Page 33 of For a Goode Time Call…
But the old desires, so long buried, are coming back with a vengeance. Surfacing and doing so violently, demanding release…and with a drive due to the years of neglect.
“Fuck,” I snarled.
I flopped down onto my couch and snagged a drawing pad and a pencil. Started sketching.
I got about ten minutes in and it became obvious that sketching wouldn’t serve as a distraction either.
I was drawing Cassie.
But my imagination was having a fucking field day. My sketch, which at this point was little more than an outline, was obviously her. Facing me, nude, head turned aside, chin dropped, one hand up in the back of her hair, the other draped casually over the apex of her thighs.
God, I’m drawing her naked, now?
Something wrong with me, for sure.
I wasn’t any kind of a regular exercise kind of guy, but I decided to try to work off the pent-up junk in my skull—I got down and did pushups until my arms and chest and shoulders burned. Squats until my thighs burned and turned to jelly. I faced away from my couch, stuck my feet onto the coffee table while propping my hands behind me on the edge of the couch, and lowered my weight slowly, pressed back up, again and again until I couldn’t anymore.
Yet still, sweating and shaky and sore, the moment I sat and closed my eyes, I saw Cassie. Bare. Standing in the pose I’d drawn her in. Staring at me, into my eyes, her gaze sensual, chest heaving. Sweaty, from dancing maybe.
God, god, god.
Never going to happen.
But the way she looked at me at the laundromat…makes me wonder.
Gives me a hint of hope.
And that shit is dangerous.
I tried to banish the thoughts of Cassie from my head, but I couldn’t.
See her bending over at the laundromat, midriff shirt gaping, letting her bare breasts sway as she moved. Her taut round butt spread apart.
Gahhhh.
I felt a temptation to do something I hadn’t done in a long time.
No.
I fought myself.
No.
Don’t do it. Don’t think of her that way.
She’s a friend. Just a friend.
I imagined that look in her eye.
She’d never look at me that way. Would never think of me that way.
I tried to meditate, to think of anything, of nothing. To breathe. To imagine myself in the woods, birds singing, wind blowing through tall pines. Standing at a waterfall, the crash and roar deafening, shaking the earth. Standing in the pool at the base of the waterfall.
Cassie would be there.
Standing near the fall—not under it, you’d get flattened. Just near it. Letting the spray wet her naked body. Her perfect cream skin would glisten. One thigh drawn up against her core, arm across her breasts, glancing at me with a laugh.
Ducking her head near the spray so her platinum hair goes wet and flat against her back. She’d drop her arm as I approach. Smile at me, laugh, eyes wild and bright. Reach for me.
