Category Archives: meme

Oscar was on his back, Polly semi-covered him. Her long hair tumbled over his chest, and her softness went through him. He wanted her so much, he felt like he had already had her. Faster than lightning, he was over her, her arms up over her head and her eyes shining up at him in the dim light like twin moons. Oscar felt the position was almost like the iconic one from the movie Blow-Up, with the Sixties iconic model Veruschka. Except he was not holding a camera. His hands moved along her modest breasts, they were small but enough to fill his palms. He rubbed them, the feeling of her hard nipples exquisite to him.
He wanted her, and with her eyes closed under his touch, it was clear that Polly wanted him too.
They had slept together the night before, and did not make love. But he damn sure knew that when he kissed her, she knew he meant it. He pulled her close and deeply in a kiss, until they pulled away from each other breathless and panting. Her lips were swollen after, and he could not resist licking them and touching them with his fingers while he was beside her. They slept fully clothed because they were both heavy with desire, and afraid to move. Each other’s movement was too arousing. But he watched her when he woke up, their bodies crossed with each other.
He remembered Eliza for a brief moment, and he fell beside Polly. Fell beside Polly, to savor her softness and newness. If they made love he thought, circling her tight nipple with his finger aimlessly, it would become an office affair.
People knew, people would know that they were together because he would not be able to hide it. He would need to touch her every time he saw her. He would need to mark her, and let all the other men there know that she was his. Men at the job used to tease him, how did he manage to get only Polly’s ire? They informed him what they would like to do to Polly…he knew from the moment he saw her how beautiful she was, but she resisted him. He realized now that he had harbored a crush on her all this time, but suppressed it because she did not seem interested in him.
But now beside her, or on top of her like a scene from Blow-Up, just being in the same room with her… Breathing her air, experiencing the world beside her…Oscar was beyond drunk with desire, he turned and kissed her neck. He knew she liked that, and he loved the way that she offered her neck to him. Like he was a vampire but instead of drawing blood, he gnawed on her desire, until he needed the quench of his desire and kissed her mouth. He loved the taste and feel of her. The moistness of her lips on his lips, on his fingers.
The entire office would know if they did, the moment they were together.
He closed his eyes tighter, and just savored this kiss.
This kiss.

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blow-up via wikipedia commons

“Did you see him?”
“Yes,” Eliza answered Rafe. It was weird for him to ask her if she had seen Oscar yet, but that was the reason why she was able to go to Shanghai in the first place.
She was sitting in the airport, her legs and ankles crossed like a picture she saw of Anne Sexton. Jet lag was not usually something that affected her in a really bad way, she knew the exhaustion that she felt was from her time in Shanghai.
“But you are in Paris now?”
“Yes.”
Yes, she thought to herself.
Eliza was happy that she had gone to Paris after Shanghai for work. It gave her time to decompress. Time to not think about Shanghai, sitting in the bar that looked like fire with Oscar first time that she realized that she loved him. Bars were so essential in the development of her relationship with Oscar. They had met at a bar, and she last saw him at a bar.
She could not think about the last time right now, and there was no work to throw herself into yet.
“And you will call me when you are all settled in?”
“Yes.”
“Liza, are you okay?”
His affectionate short name for her over the phone, she knew it was going to be hard to hide her feelings from him. Rafe knew her over the phone, in the dark.
But she was going to pretend.
“Yes baby, why I called you. Your voice makes me feel loved.”
“I love you.”
“I love you,” she rushed, her eyes blurred with tears.
She scrolled on her phone after she got off with Rafe, wiped a tear on it as she tried to call the car service she used there. The number should have been in her contacts, but she had never put it there and always had to look it up. While she was looking it up, she saw something about a motor taxi and clicked on it. It was cheaper than her car service, would probably get her to Paris faster and she just wanted to do something that would take her out of herself.
When her taxi arrived, the guy got off of his motorcycle, took off his helmet and smiled. Eliza inadvertently licked her lips. He handed her a helmet, and she told him in a rush where she wanted to go.
He smiled at her they way that most Parisians did when she spoke in French.
“You are American!” he said in heavily accented French.
“Oui!”
“I speak some English. I will help you get to your hotel, and you will help me practice English?”
“Sure,” Eliza smiled as he bent over to pick up her luggage, and put it in the compartment on the motorcycle that could hold it.
They got on the bike.
“Are you ready?” he asked her as he put on his helmet.
“Yes, as I will ever be!”
He smiled, and they were on their way. Eliza closed her eyes at first, and then the the rush came over her from France flying by her, and at this point the closeness of her driver. His hair was curly and shaggy where the helmet was not covering it, and his scent was of a cologne that she did not recognize the notes of. The scent however was a sweet harmony for her senses. They did not talk a lot, but there was a smattering of English and French coming from both of them. Coming into to Paris like this was magnificent.
When she got to her hotel, they took off their helmets outside.
“You are here.”
“Oui,”
“You did not get to help me speak a lot of English.”
“No, I did not,” she smiled.
“Here is my card, in case you have time while you are here…or of course when you are going back to New York you said?”
She nodded, she felt so nervous because he was so good looking that she could not speak a word. English or French.
“Well, you have it.”
Eliza closed her fist about it.
“I do. Merci beaucoup.”
He smiled as he got on his motorcycle, and put on his helmet. His smile filled her in a way she had needed to be filled when she left Shanghai, and which she had sought when she called Rafe.

Adrien’s card would have burned a hole in Eliza’s purse, she had not forgotten him for her whole trip. She did not want to call him, but she knew that she had to.
When he arrived, he looked even sexier than when she had first met him. His hair was a bit wilder, and he had stubble on his face.
“What time is your flight?”
“Cinq.”
“You have time to kill?”
“I thought I would help you practice English.”
Adrien smiled.
She led him through the curtains that divided the lobby, and down the stairs to the door marked “Privé,” which he pressed her up against. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face against the stubble on his face, loving the burn, needing it to make her feel alive and know she was doing this.
The roughness of his stubble and his coarse hands under her dress,made her growl low in her chest. She did not know how to say condom in French, so she frisked him. Her hand grabbing at his ass, trying to feel for any signs that he might have one. He dangled the condom with a laugh above her face like mistletoe, and she laughed deeper than she usually did.
And what followed was more excitement than when the ball dropped in Times Square for New Year’s.

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times square via wikipedia commons

Polly was somewhere between wake and sleep, thinking to herself that Oscar did not really know her.
She did not tell him about the time that she was dressed as Little Bo Peep, she had kept it a seductive secret, and he had went along with it. But now she remembered that time, and driving with the guy that was with her.
Driving down a road that barely had any lights. All he could do was drive down the yellow line as the headlights shined on it. She was in the backseat of the car, quiet and dazed. There was a drop of blood on her white Little Bo Peep costume. Her finger kept caressing the tiny wound on the inside of her arm as she looked out of the window at the woods. She careseed where she had been opened, her flesh a tiny slice because Colin wanted to taste her. Taste her blood. The first time he told her, she thought he was joking. But when she had a paper cut, and he sucked her cut so slowly and sensually she knew otherwise.
She thought that Goth had to have a certain kind of look. But Colin did not have that. He was gentle and tender with her, but it was not her lifestyle.
But she let him cut her, and suck from her. She felt giddy that night driving with him, and it was a cute thing to do when she was young. They were young and in love and it was wonderful while it lasted.
She met him years later, an eclectic art buyer as a potential client…it was different that time when they were both adults, but she was too driven to really be committed to him, Colin accepted that of her.
He still liked to taste her, he was the only man she had ever been with who enjoyed making love when she had her period. No one else had ever liked that. But he did. His blood lust at that time was more incidental.
He was the one who loved de Lempickas, and he was still a client. But now he lived in Paris.
She was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, and saw Colin. His intense face studying hers. When he touched her, so softly she was not even sure that he was touching her, her face got very damp. It was snowing and it felt like Christmas, but her face was more moist than the falling snow would have made it. She thought she was bleeding, but he was bleeding instead when he held his hand before her and she shook in the dream then opened her eyes.
Awake again, she touched her face, and all she felt was the soft drool that was on the side of her mouth and she could smell Oscar’s warm scent. She looked at him, and he stared at her. She smiled, as he touched her face the same way that Colin had touched her face in the dream. Shivering in a way that she played off more as desire, she remembered how every time she dreamt about Colin he would return in her life. Especially if she felt him the way that she felt him in her between and actual dream state.
But she was with Oscar now, Oscar who made her feel light, and who probably would never go to that blood place with her. That vampiric desire that she felt with Colin, a dark desire that she loved incredibly but that she could never live with forever.
Blood was not forever.
Polly caressed Oscar and his warmth was so alive, so lovely. She pressed her body to him, and he held her close.
“You are pure as the driven snow,” he said to her.
Kissing him, his taste was lovely. Light. She flicked her tongue as if trying to catch snow as a child, returning his kiss.
Not quite, she thought, not quite so pure as that. But she loved that he saw her that way…now…

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highway via duck duck go images

Eliza was on her stomach on Oscar’s bed. She could smell him on the sheets, in the room.
That he was there, that he had been in the hotel room. Mindlessly she kissed the mattress, ran her fingers over the sheet like it was the path of Oscar’s chest hair. Balling the sheet in her first, she remembered herself.
It was wrong for her to be upset that he was with someone else, that she expected Shanghai to be their place because it had been so magical for them when they were there before. Even with Fiona in the middle of her crisis…
Fiona had not been surprised that she was going to Shanghai, nor was Rafe. Oscar was the reason that she had agreed to open their relationship in the first place, because she could not put away what she felt for him. Other things had happened since then. Marcus…she was not sure about that, but it was something she was not thinking about when she opened her relationship up. She was thinking about Oscar, why she had come to Shanghai now.
It had never occurred to her that Oscar would be with someone else. He was with someone else and she was lying on his bed in his hotel room alone, waiting for him.
On her back, her fingers ran absently over her own chest. Her fingers caressing her breasts, their softness soothing to her while she waited.
There was nothing else she could do.
The beep of him coming into the room, made her slip her hand out of her blouse where she had been fully caressing her own breast imagining it was Oscar doing it.
He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at her.
“I feel awkward, like I should say sorry. But there is nothing for me to be sorry about,” he sais
Eliza let her feet touch the ground.
“I am sorry, I can leave Oscar–”
Oscar put his hands on her shoulders when she stood up in front of him.
“Don’t guilt trip me Eliza.”
Eliza wanted to glare at him with hatred, but being close to him…it was all she had been fueled with coming to Shanghai. Why the long flight was manageable. Thinking about him looking at her, touching her.
She stared at him.
“I missed you.”
He pushed a strand of hair out of her face.
“You did not tell me you were coming.”
“If I had, would it have made a difference? Would I have found you alone?”
“Are you alone in New York? Were you ever alone any of the time that we were together? I have to be celibate while you are open?”
Eliza picked up her purse, and buttoned her blouse. She knew he was right, but she did want him to only be with her. It was awful, but that was what she wanted. Not another woman making Shanghai not their place anymore.
“I said I can go,” she snapped.
Oscar smirked.
“Go.”
Eliza walked past him, saw that she had misbuttoned her blouse and stopped to fix it.
“You’re going to let me go?”
“You said you wanted to go twice. You came here Eliza, you know your own agenda.”
“I do.”
She walked to the door, before her hand was on the knob, she turned to him.
“I know I am wrong, but it is how I feel. Can you imagine how I feel?”
She stared at him.
“And what about me? I was with someone new and you came to Shanghai. Our place. How do you think I feel?
“Look, here is my card. Call me. I know now is not the time, but I am here. I am here…”
Eliza stared at the Shanghai skyline, that was almost as familiar to her as the New York one. Familiar skylines and unfamiliar emotional territory.

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shanghai via fortykay.com

Oscar liked Polly asleep in his arms. She was soft and smelled sweet of perfume: the one she wore and her natural scent. Her soft snoring let him know she was tired, so he lie there staring at her. Sometimes he almost dozed with the sweetness of her, her scent and her breath on his face and arms.
And then he would wake up. This time, his own drool like hers had been on him when she fell asleep that first time in the car, on the mattress.
And then he woke up, as if from a nightmare.
He got out of the bed softly so he did not wake up Polly. He reached for his jacket, and fished for his phone which was turned off.
On, it alerted him to a text from Eliza.

Where are you? I am in Shanghai…

Oscar felt heart palpitations. He had not even put on his shoes, as he walked into the hallway. He did not want to make the call in the room with Polly. He could still feel her breath on him.
Was it his guardian angel that got him out of the bed, and into the hallway where he saw Eliza?
“Eliza…”
She wrapped her arms about him quickly. He stared at her half from disbelief, half from the bit of happiness that would always be there when he saw her.
“Oscar,” she squeezed him again. “I wanted to surprise you, and I told them I was your wife and left a hefty tip…I was in the room. But you were not there…”
He looked in her eyes, and he knew that she knew even without saying anything. That she knew that there was something that she knew, that she did not want to know.
“I was out with a colleague.”
“A woman.”
Eliza answered her own question and looked at him.
He nodded.
“You were with this woman…”
Oscar nodded. He felt guilty at first, but then he realized that her was no need. He was not married or engaged to her. She was engaged to someone, before he ever fell in love with her.
The entire time he was with Polly this time in Shanghai, he realized that was what he was infatuated with as much as Polly. That there was nothing that he had to think about besides her. He liked that.
There were no dead skeletons that he had to think about, that he knew about at least.
“Eliza, I love you, but I walked out of the room and she was sleeping and I want to be there when she wakes up. This is the key to my room, the extra. Wait there.”
Eliza took the key and nodded. He was not sure if she was dazed by the shock, or if she was okay but she walked to his room which was further down the hall.
He looked after her, and went back into Polly’s room, got in the bed and lie there again.
Polly still slept and he stared at her now with less joy, and a bit more fear.
He wanted her, he wanted her so much. Her breath warm on his, her eyes when she woke up focused on him. Lulled by her softness, he fell asleep.
In his dreams, Eliza chased him.

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skeleton with a rose photo by f dot leonora

Polly swore she saw light when she looked at Oscar in the alley that they stumbled into after karaoke. His light lit the way to their driver, and her head secure on his shoulder as they drove back to their hotel.
It was late and dark, they went to her hotel room and she spun around the room in her qipao as if she had on a flared skirt. Oscar put his hand on her hip, and they danced around the room. When she looked at the moon, she thought to herself what if he wanted to? She had not been expecting anything to happen between them, so she did not have protection. She knew that there was something between them, but now what? Nothing has been said, and she honestly was old-fashioned. But what would he expect? She bought him to her room so late.
He paused to stare at the moon beside her.
Sex was never something she rushed into. Her mother named her after her friend, a flower child who she had pictures of with huge flowers and butterflies painted all over her.
Polly never could imagine that her mother had been friends with that Polly. That her mother had been so free. Because when she was growing up, AIDS new and fresh. People feared getting it, by looking at someone. She remembered sex ed classes, where they said you could not tell if someone had it by looking at them. No matter how healthy they looked.
Oscar looked beautiful to her now. More so than he ever had in the entire time that she knew him. He raised her face to his, the light of the moon eclipsed by his.
“Tell me,”
She blinked repeatedly from the moonlight and the intensity of his gaze.
“Oscar,” she started, and then she was quiet.
“What?” his voice was soft as he caressed her cheek.
“I just don’t want to move so fast? I asked you up here, and I just don’t want to…rush anything…”
Oscar looked at her. She tried not to cry because she was not sure what he was going to say, as he turned to face the moon.
“I did not come up here with expectations. We were both drinking, and I just wanted to make sure you got back here safe…” He caressed her chin and looked at her, his face close enough to kiss. “And for this.”
He kissed her, and the light that she saw when she closed her eyes was a combination of him and the moon.
She wrapped her arms about him and he pulled her closer, ran his fingers along her neck and further down like she was the treasured instrument of a musician. She wondered if he had ever played anything…
He stopped kissing her, and then he laughed.
“What?” she said looking and him and laughing a little, even though she did not know why.
He leaned on the window sill.
“Because I remember not even being able to be in the same room with you.”
“”Oscar–”
“No,” He said putting his finger on her mouth. “I just feel good that we got past all the barriers, because you are so beautiful inside and out.”
He kissed her again, and Polly felt like she had been painted with flowers and butterflies…

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veruschka with butterfly via listal.com

Severine had travelled so many parts of the world, places that many people might never see in their lifetime. But as a flight attendant they were places that she would not just see once, but maybe even revisit many times over. Though at the end of the day, her world was Paris and New York. New York not so much because she had lived there, but the fact that Rafe was there.
Every time she was in New York she saw Rafe.
But it was Paris where she lived and where she was now, that she wished was not just hers but theirs.
The first thing that she loved about Paris over New York was that even when she was in a crowded part of the city, there was an isolated corner that you could end up on and have piece of mind…if that was what you wanted. While Rafe was not in Paris with her, he followed her down every street that she walked.
“Tell me what you see,” he questioned her now on the phone.
Rafe had been in Paris with her before, so when she told him stories about it she knew he could kind of imagine what she was telling him.
“Where are you Severine?”
Severine looked around sobered by Rafe’s voice. First she was just texting him, and now she was was talking to him on the phone. Recently he had been more accessible to her than ever, but at the same time he felt further away because she would always need more of him than he would or could give her. In ways she understood that, but it other ways she wanted more. Like for him to come to Paris for example. Ever since she was last in New York, she dreamt about him with Calaveras makeup because it was damn sexy to her to have been making love to him while he was so scary.
Maybe he was that scary to her even when he was not in makeup, and maybe that was what she liked about him.
But she could not over think it when she was with him, even if with him was only an international
phone call on a dark street.
“I am just outside of my apartment, it is a quiet, dark street.”
“What are you wearing?”
Severine smiled.
“Do you want me to be naked? Leaning from a balcony? I could tell you an erotic story if you want me too…”
“Don’t patronize me Severine, I want to know what you are wearing because I am going to tell you what to do.”
“A house dress, a simple one. Probably vintage. And perfume, the one that you told me that you like so much. I put a lot on even before I knew I was going to be talking to you. I put it behind my ears, around all of my curves.”
“Did you perfume every crevice of you?”
“Every secret crevice, so that only someone like you would be able to come close and catch all of my scent.”
Severine remembered earlier today, walking into the tiniest bookstore with wall to floor books. She could not see anything but piles of books, and then she saw the man who owned the store. She thought to herself it would be so easy to have Rafe slip into that store, and make love in erotica section.
“Is there anybody with you?” he asked her.
“Just you.”
She heard his soft laughter evaporate almost as soon as she heard it.
“Then I want you to act as you would if it was just me with you. What you do if it was just us?”
Severine took a deep breath.
“Where are your hands Sev?”
“On the phone obviously,” she said continuing her flirtation.
She wanted to make him say exactly what she wanted him to say, she wanted him to say exactly what he wanted her to do and she wanted him to use the filthiest language he could to instruct her.
“I told you not to play me, pull up your house dress and touch yourself with your other hand like I would touch you if I was there.”
“It is drizzling here.”
“Haven’t we fucked in the rain?”
“No,” Severine said clutching her crotch through her dress like she was a young boy wearing his jeans low over his his hips.
There was a pause and she was not sure if he was embarrassed that they had never fucked in the rain and he was confusing her with someone else, or if he was thinking that they should have because they had been in the rain together?
Then his words came as slowly, but pointedly as it they were drizzling about her.
“Then we will sext in the rain. Now pull up your dress and use your phone and video it for me.”
Severine looked around, the dampness around her was like a mist with the sound of Rafe’s voice was steadier. Her house dress moved up almost of its own volition, as she turned her phone on herself. On that dark Parisian street, she was on display like bread in a Parisian boulangerie. Her bright smile was shadowed in the dark, as she gave Rafe the show he asked her to produce.

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paris at night by f dot leonora