Category Archives: meme

Justify My Love

Mathilde watched him look right through her, and she was shaken a bit because she never imagined that he would react to her like that. She never imagined that he would be so blase about seeing her, they had been together for a little while…it had not seemed insignificant to her.

Then she remembered that she was incognito, and looked nothing like she had looked when he knew her. Her grip on the stem of her wine glass loosened a bit with that thought, and she looked at the bartender with a small smile. He had been looking at her since she had arrived breathlessly at his bar, looking like she had been attacked.

No one would have guessed that quite the reverse had happened, and that she had been ignored by the man who had been the love of her life she guessed they would call it. No one had made Mathilde feel like he had. Her entire body was on fire from the memory of him, and from anticipation.

When she turned on the stool, there he was.

His forehead crinkled with thought, as he looked down at his phone. His suit looked expensive and tailored, and he looked nothing less than the man that she had always wanted to straddle his thighs facing him and …

His forehead smoothed as he noticed her looking at him. A smile lifted his lips, and he gestured to her empty glass.

“What were you drinking?” he asked.

That was the hook—his approach. His confidence, his invitation that no one could resist.

Mathilde stared at him until her eyes watered.

“The house red,” she replied, licking her bottom lip and she bit it to not smile when his eyes followed her tongue.

She had a hook too.

He lifted his chin at the bartender and her glass was refilled. The bartender had a dark look on his face as he realized their flirtation was over.

“I saw you outside, and I am not the kind of man who stops every pretty lady I see but I almost stopped for you. And no here you are…”


Did he not see anything in her eyes, was there nothing about her gestures that reminded him of her before? Something like deja vu?

“So now what?” she asked like the line in “Justify My Love” by Madonna, and took a sip of her wine without ever taking her piercing gaze off of him even for a second.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

justify my love still via imdb

Surrounded

Eliza wrapped her arms about Cleo as soon as she sat down at the table, and then looked away from her. She could tell even from her periphery view of Cleo, that she knew her goose was cooked. There was nothing for her to say, but she knew that Cleo knew…

All Eliza could see when she had her arms about the other woman was the way that Cleo had hugged Cadmus. The way her arms dangled about his upper body and the way that she pressed her body to his with instinct, not intention. Her emotions for him were so clear, and Eliza was confused because she had thought that Cleo was completely in love with Oscar.

Oscar was sitting next to Cleo, and looked happy. But his eyes were on her as well, and Eliza hid her emotions for him as well as she possibly could. There was so much history between her and Oscar at this point, that they spoke volumes without a word or even a look.

Maybe that was the same thing that was between Cleo and Cadmus, because as she settled next to Oscar Cleo looked at ease and infatuated. Her body again moving instinctually.

Relationships were so complicated, what had she witnessed between Cleo and Cadmus? Now even though Cleo looked at her wearily, Eliza made as if she was oblivious to anything.

Eliza nearly choked on her wine, as Cleo’s phone was dressed with Cadmus’ name, and Cleo grabbed her phone to speak into it.

In French.

Oscar looked unconcerned, Eliza smiled at him.

Cleo looked between them even as she continued her conversation in rapid French.

“Ciao, ciao,” she said and leaned back into Oscar. “It was Cadmus.”

“I figured,” Oscar smiled, and took her hand to kiss it.

Cleo’s weary eyes remained on her, and Eliza was happy to be swept up in the embrace of her husband. His hug felt like a security blanket surrounding her with his arrival.

Hugs all around again, and Eliza mused at the dramatic turn her life had suddenly taken.

 

More Wicked Wednesday here:

 

 

Hallucination

With the current state of things and the regular trajectory of Mathilde, it would be easy for me to marry both for this week’s Masturbation Monday. But I am not going to do that.

There was once a comment about Anais Nin that she was living through WWII, and there was no mention of it in her journal. She was being criticized for not speaking of the war in her journals.

 

es·cap·ism

/əˈskāpˌizəm/

noun

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.

 

Maybe Anais’ diary was a refuge from what she was living day to day—it is not fair to judge her for that. I certainly do not, and I have always understood escapism—now more than ever. So this week, I will escape into my own fiction and for those of you who can appreciate that or desire it this is especially for you…

 

Mathilde got off on her stop.

Literally.

The rocking of the metro, and the thoughts in her head made her feel such a heaviness between her legs that the quick movement to exit the train made her feel the release that was needed there.

She was ashamed, as she placed her hand over her mouth.

She had been thinking of him.

The man who had made her into what she was, who had made her never want to be vulnerable. Heavy eyes along with the heaviness between her legs, and she remembered how she had ached for him.

How she wanted anything that he would do to her.

Anything.

When he was rough, when he was super tender with her she wanted it all. She wanted it when he did not want it sometimes, and she couldn’t help herself. Surrounding him like a venomous snake so that he had to surrender to her, Mathilde would wrap her arms and legs about him and kiss his neck. 

He would fuck her hard then, and that was what she wanted. But she did not realize that it was a give her what the fuck she wants fuck so she will leave you alone. It was years before she realized it was not that she was too much for him, but that he did not love her the way she loved him. A man who loved her would not have had the same experience with her, and maybe she wouldn’t have felt so desperate with another man.

Deep inside she probably knew that she was fighting a losing game like the Amy Winehouse song with him. But the way he made her feel had been sublime, and she had craved it.

She still craved it sometimes.

When she walked down the street, she thought she was hallucinating. Here in Paris?

Him…

More Masturbation Monday here:

 

Perseverance

Eliza tightened the scarf about her head, and looked over at Cleo and Cadmus. There was a smug smile on her face, because she saw them and she knew that they did not see her. It felt like a soap opera but it was her real life, and she was fine with that.

There had been a long time of the playing field being uneven, but finally now Eliza knew something that she could use for her leverage. Cleo always had a look on her face like she knew something about her, she had been in the hallway after she and Oscar had made love at Bibi’s birthday party but she did not know anything. Eliza’s life would not be a soap opera—that was not what she wanted her life to be. 

It felt like voyeurism to look at the two of them together. 

When the private investigator showed her the pictures of lovemaking between Cleo and Cadmus it felt very illicit. Seeing the uninhibited expression of pleasure on Cleo’s face—the deep-seated need that she had for Cadmus smeared all over her with the man let Eliza know that she was deeply in love with him.

What was she doing with Oscar then? Did Cleo love him at all, or was he a rebound? 

Eliza could not imagine being with any man she was not deeply in love with. It was with deep perseverance that she maintained her relationships. Her marriage had not been an easy road, but she loved Rafe and Bibi and her family structure.

Oscar included.

What was Cleo doing? Her hand rested between Cadmus’ thighs, and it was clear that she was either going to give him a hand job or something even more daring in the intimate cafe. She probably thought no one was paying attention.

Eliza was.

Tightening her scarf some more, Eliza got up from her chair as Cleo started to unzip Cadmus’ pants and Eliza saw a flesh-colored flash that she looked quickly away from. 

She had gotten what she wanted and was ready for Cleo to make the next move.    

More Wicked Wednesday here:

 

 

Submerged

Mathilde sat on the metro—she could still feel him between her legs. She could still feel him moving there, the heat of him outside and inside her and she pressed her thighs together from the memory.

Biting her lip and clutching her bag, Mathilde realized that she had come all the way to Paris to be alone for the first time in her life and she did not really want to be alone. She wanted to be close to someone, she just wanted it to work this time.

Every time she wanted it to work, but somehow it never worked the way that she wanted it to. Not that she had not been with people and loved them, but it was never quite what she wanted…

Phenomenal twosomes, threesomes and foursomes had filled her—literally—but it was never quite what she wanted. On the metro now, she realized that maybe she was not built for real intimacy. What she had just experienced in the bedrooms of two men she barely knew, let her know that she was always ready for her body to be submerged in whatever—but real love and intimacy were something she could only scratch at the surface of.

Her body still ruminated with the pleasure she had submerged herself in—a man who seemed to know her intuitively. There was something base and animal about the way that he knew her, while he was inside of her it felt like he was entering more of her than just her body. It felt like he was penetrating deeper, to something that she was not able to stop him from searching for within herself.

She felt like he awakened something in her that she had not known was there. And now hands on her thighs, she tried to settle herself from the pleasure and the torture of it that she could still feel throughout her body and soul.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

Spellbound II

Cleo hated herself for what she had done, but she could not help but embrace herself beside Cadmus.

In his bed.

It felt like a place that she belonged, and that she had forsaken. He was asleep—he had rolled off her and curled into fetal position still clutching her. He played with her breasts, and explored the contours of her curves.

He always made her feel like a woman.

At the cafe, when she went to meet him she had not imagined that she was going to sleep with him. But after a few glasses of wine, and looking in his eyes it was like she was spellbound. She felt dazed and overwhelmed like a woman on the cover of an old Spicy Mystery.

Her body however was not confused, and she wanted Cadmus even as she knew it was wrong. That he could not give her what she wanted now because he was fast asleep. Her eyes closed, but fluttered violently because she wanted him inside of her. When he was inside of her she was not lost. She held him close, probably bruising his butt from the desperate way she clutched it and mewled underneath him not being satisfied no matter how much he gave her.

She wanted more.

That was why they were not together anymore, because it did not seem that he had more to give her than this. Lovemaking, followed by wakeful sleep as he clutched her breasts like a security blanket he did not want to let go.

Cleo knew she would have bruises from him later, and she was not sad about it. She wanted the residue of their love—it was all she had ever wanted.

Cadmus squeezed her breasts more, and she wondered what he was dreaming.

If she was in them.

Panic clawed at her as she became desperate for him again, but now he squeezed her breasts and he was awake—

She wanted what he wanted.

 

More Wicked Wednesday here:

Disappear

She still did not know his name but the way that he looked at her that made Mathilde pause. He studied her face in a way that she was not sure that anyone had studied it. He looked at her like he did not know what she was. Like he could see her and everything that she tried to hide.

He was a bit too knowing, and she really wanted to leave him at that point but he held her and was holding her body close to his as he looked in her eyes. Mathilde wanted to scream, but she could not scream because what was that going to prove? He was not doing anything to her–just looking at her but that was too much.

She did not want to be seen.

When she was younger, she had a boyfriend who she used to attach herself to. There was no other way to describe how she was with him. She held his arm and pressed close to him all the time. He was her first, and she was very vulnerable with him.

It was too much for him, she scared him off and she never wanted to need anyone like that again. She never wanted to disappear into anyone like that again, the way she had with him. She remembered feeling him tense when she was holding him, and it was because he was sick of her.

Before Graham, she had changed so much, she never gave much of herself to anyone.

Certainly not her clients. 

It was easy for her to be with someone and then to roll over and leave. She wanted that now as the nameless man had let go of her, but continued to look into her eyes.

“What?” she smirked finally, she was going to regain control of this situation.

“What?” he copied her, and smirked back.

She just wanted him inside of her, like he had been and then she realized that she was still vulnerable all of the time. She wanted someone inside of her so she would not feel alone. But she knew that when she was with someone, that she was at risk for hiding in that person. 

Mathilde did not want to be seen.

In the mirror, she saw she hid behind long dark hair, and that Paris had darkened around her.

He wrapped pulled her close to him, and she closed her eyes.

She wanted to disappear even if it was into him.

For now.

More Masturbation Monday here:

Spellbound

Journey’s song “Don’t Stop Believin’” played in the background, as Cleo texted Cadmus. He was like Pandora–once she opened the box, she could not get rid of him.

She kind of did not want to, or maybe it was that she was not able to be rid of him now. It was like the Shawn Colvin song “New Thing Now” — “It feels so good to doubt you I can almost live without but not quite…not quite.” she hummed as she continued to text him.

His life was always in disarray — that was how she got involved with him. They were friends first, and even if she could not live with him she still cared about him. She was happy that she was able to still care about him, but at times it was limiting. Yet it was still amazing to be so close to him, that their friendship superseded their partnership.

She loved him, she would always love him.

I just want you to be happy, she texted as she walked into the restaurant that she was going to.

Cadmus sat at the window texting, and stopped when he saw her with a smile on his face. The bubbles on her phone that indicated he was answering here stopped too. He stood up and held her close, and she melted into him. Cleo took in his scent, was almost spellbound because she knew his scent like it was her own. She knew their combined scent from when they made love, and she felt her legs weaken underneath her.

Thank you for coming,” he said, letting her go and she swayed.

She had no control over this situation, she would come whenever he asked her to come because she wanted to be there for him.

She would always be there for him.

“Of course,” she said, as he pulled her chair out for her to sit and she saw that he had already ordered the wine she loved because he knew her every move.

She saw Oscar’s name on her  phone screen, and let it go black as she smiled at Cadmus.

More Wicked Wednesday here.

Sunlight

It was as cliché as she could have imagined, lying in bed with the Parisian sunlight falling on her. On him too, this time she would not ask what his name was because she really did not want to know.

He was a bad sleeper so he was not holding her, and the sheets covered his body in a disarray. He did look sexy, and she had had a good time with him,

But Mathilde was ready to go.

Running down the stairs, ascertaining that she had her phone, purse and looked nothing like she had had a long night she left. 

A cafe a few blocks away looked like a good option for coffee, and she sat down with her cup and the extra chocolates she had not asked for. But the man who had placed them on her saucer just under the dolie smiled at her with each one, like it was an invitation.

Breakfast—those tiny chocolates and coffee were breakfast before she decided what she and Paris were going to do together.

“You could have at least gone to a cafe across town so you would have no chance of seeing me,” Mathilde cringed when she heard the statement from the man she had just left. The timbre of his voice rolled under her skin.

She looked up at him and smiled. He pulled a chair next to her.

“Why do I get the feeling that you are a grand escape artist?” he mused aloud.

“Like Houdini.”

“You tried to leave before anything even happened between us.”

“But you made me stay for a bit.”

Mathilde felt her traitorous body respond to his proximity. Daytime brought about his fresh cologne, and another crisp suit. The man behind the counter looked at her like she really was a traitor, as she placed a square of chocolate on her mouth.

“I did.”

“Don’t you have a conference to go to?”

“It is Saturday, so no. Nice to be on vacation and lose track of time like that!” he laughed.

Mathilde nodded as her mouth was flooded with decadent chocolate.

His kiss tasted like chocolate. Back in his bed, Mathilde looked up at him as he moved on top of her. He was not inside of her, but pinned her down with his naked body and she liked the feeling of it. She was wet from when she sat at the cafe with him, and the hunger between her legs meant she had had to touch herself quickly when she went to the bathroom to curb some of the ache.

She wanted him inside of her now, but he was intent on being slow and lazy about it. And being that she did not have anything to do that day, it was kind of nice to be lost.

For a little while.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

 

 

 

 

 

Cut the Cord

Cleo looked over at Oscar as he slept beside her, her discarded fishnets under her on the bed. She was restless. Her eyes were damp, as well as her temples. The state between sleep and wake was the most truthful in her experience. The dream that she just had about Cadmus had not changed her experience at all. 

She had been running from him in the dream—after they had made love. Cleo had made love to him from top to bottom with her mouth—his lips, his nipples, lower and lower until she reached his toes and then she ran away from him after she sucked his pinkie toe. Ashamed and sated, she hated herself for the feeling even still, woken up.

Cadmus had not been good for her. She broke up with him because they did nothing but fortify behaviors in each other that she did not want to enhance.

But she still missed him and loved him. It was obvious from her dream. If he called her in the middle of the night to talk to her, she would be there for him until she was watery-eyed and went to work a sleep-deprived mess. He needed to go over everything in his life with her, and she was too involved with him not to listen because she still cared about his every movement.

A notification flashed on her phone, she saw just the C and grabbed it because she wanted to know what he needed. 

What he wanted.

You up?

Her eyes moved over Oscar, as she touch typed in reply to his text. 

Yes—you okay?

I just wanted to run something past you…

She texted him about his newest quandary until she was exhausted and he finally texted he was falling asleep while texting her.

She lie on her side again looking at Oscar, and wondered if she really had anything to wonder about with him and Eliza, or was it because she knew that even while she was happy to be with Oscar she still had such strong residual for Cadmus? She and Cadmus were just friends now, but still, she had him in her life—needed him in her life.

She couldn’t cut the cord.

 

More Wicked Wednesday here, more Tell Me About here and more Sex Bloggers for Mental Health here: