Tag Archives: Caribbean

The haunted elevator

13 Dec

So once again I’m out of work.  Let’s not go into the details because they are ridiculous.  The only reason I mention it is because, now that I’m at home during the day, I’ve been kinda restless, stuff happens in my head, and I need to write  it as a form of exorcism:

Dear Pilot Guy,

Today I was doing some housecleaning.  The thought of you crossed my mind two or three times.  It wasn’t until I got to my balcony that I was really hit by a memory of you.  I found a cigarette butt.  Your cigarette butt.  I was transported to those oh-so-happy days when I had you here.  I saw you sitting out there, cigarette in hand, watching the news.  You looked up from your iPad when I came to the door.  You smiled, that crooked smile that I’m sure no one craves more than me.

I guess that memory, along with the others, will start to fade soon.  I don’t want them to, though.  I want to keep the memory of you looking at me when I woke up next to you on my bed.  Your arm reaching out to me and pulling me closer so we could spoon for a little while.  If I have to be honest, I want most of all to keep the memory of your body pressed against mine, of us having sex, of you moaning in pleasure, of our bodies spent after so much desire.

Then I think of you.  I wonder if you review your memories of me.  I’m sure you do.  There’s a particular one that I really hope torments you daily.  There’s a certain elevator where we shared our first crazy, passionate kiss.  It’s there, at the airport where you land every day.  The one you take off from every day too.  I imagine you, in your pilot’s uniform, the mandatory sunglasses, coming out of your gate.  I imagine that you walk around the airport thinking of whatever thing it is you think.

Absentmindedly, you walk up to the elevator, push the button and wait.  The doors open.  You look in.  Start to walk towards it, but a flash stops you dead in your tracks.  You see us inside.  Me against the wall.  You pushing me in.  Kissing with desperation.  You see me pushing you  away to the opposite wall.  Here your imagination takes over.  I walk towards you on the other side of the elevator.  I kiss you again.  You try to put your hands around me to pull me in, but I take hold of your hands and push them away.  I start playing with your belt, and you get alarmed.  After all, this is just a two story building.  Someone is bound to come in the elevator any moment now.

I don’t care.  That actually makes it more exciting.  You smile, loving how I can be such a naughty girl wrapped in these very respectable looking skin tight white jeans and flirty navy blue shirt.  My hand starts making its way down your pants and you just let go.  I own you now.

People push past you.  They wake you up from your reverie, looking at you as if they thought you were scared of going in the elevator.  You shake the image from your head.  Once again, you decide not to go in.  Maybe some day the memory will fade, the fantasies will subside, and you will ride the elevator again.

You turn around and decide to get a coffee and wait your time out until your next flight.  You walk into the coffee shop.  Can’t help but look at the table where we sat and shared a chocolate chip cookie.  You see me licking the melted chocolate off your fingers.  You reach in for my mouth and lick the chocolate from my lips.  We kiss as passionately as our first kiss back in the elevator.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jdjtqu3XK4U
An airport for everybody, a “funhouse” for you.

Will not go down without a fight!

29 Nov

I can recognize the absurdity of this, but bear with me.

I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, because that is what people say when they are thinking about doing something for way too long without actually doing it.  I’ve been thinking about creating a separate blog to share with you guys the erotic story I started writing with Pilot Guy.  My purpose?  I want to make sense of what happened.  I want the world to read the story and to comment about it.  I want you guys to put in your own two cents.  I want to expose the connection that we made, and if in the process he finds out about it, I hope that he will see it too.

I still want this guy, hence the absurdity of it all.  What happened with Pilot Guy is still doing things to my heart, and it’s only fair that  he hears about it.  In my fantasy, he finds out about the blog, and decides to talk to me.  The result of that, I don’t want to imagine.  I am aware of my use of the word “fantasy.”  I know this is a long shot, but I won’t let it go just yet, cause this is a story worth continuing.

All I need from you guys is that you visit my new blog, read it, and comment.  Share the story with others and help me get as many people reading as possible.  However, the contents of that blog are pretty graphic and sexually explicit.  If you have any qualms about reading an intimate erotic exchange, do not visit the new blog. (I’m talking to you, my only friend who knows my identity and follows this blog.)

So, without further ado, I present to you:  Mercedes and Jack


Because being with him was like nothing I ever felt before.

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