Darkness on the Edge of Town

"I'm going to take this off," I whisper to her. She pauses in silence, then agrees in quiet surrender, "ok." If my mind were to wander, I would think of all the reasons this is not right: Her friend I was with too recently, the people at work and the potential damage to us both, the age difference alone is startling!

But she is here because she wants to be. And because I want her to be. I kiss her and hope she can feel all I am thinking about her. She is beautiful, she is kind, she is warm, she is thrilling, she is soft. And she is now nude. She kisses back as if it were an echo. Then laughs softly. She is nude, but she is not naked. No one wants to be naked.

A friend recently called me out on this. I often explain my ideas, thoughts, experiences and encouragements and think I am revealing a great deal about myself. Hell, I even blog! But I am never naked. With anyone.

As I type, she is in my bed. Asleep and warm. I can't sleep. I'm in the dark. On a couch in front of a screen wondering how such an enjoyable, intimate exercise isn't able to touch everywhere. Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe it takes time. Maybe we have to both want more. Maybe I am what I am. Maybe time will tell. Maybe this time will tell.

All I know is, right now, I feel far more naked than I did tonight.