Waiting

... By Hathor

Where the hell is she?

She told me to come to Boston, and I did. She said to wait here, and here I am. She told me to wear this hat, and here it is. I've been staring at this door for the better part of an hour. I don't do waiting that well. I'm pretty impatient.

She is a Goddess among women. Tall, lithe, beautiful outside as well as in, a raper wit and a heart as big as the Texas sky. She's great with kids, animals, grownups, vending machines, parking meters; pretty much everything. I've only met her recently, but she's won my heart. We're supposed to be meeting to, shall I say, further our acquaintance? Who knows where it will lead? I have my hopes, but DAMN IT, she has to show up first.

I don't have anything planned, mind you, but if the mood takes us, I've got some definite ideas. First, a little stroll through the Public Gardens. They're beautiful this time of year. Then, drinks at the Ritz -- I love that hotel. A show at the Wang maybe, depending on what's playing. Late supper, and perhaps a nightcap. In my room. If she ever fucking shows up.

Calm down, man. OK. So, if she gets her beautiful ass here, and we get to do all these wonderfully romantic things, fine. If she gets here, and all she wants to do is romp, fine. She just has to get here!

God, I'm getting twitchy waiting. I've got all these thoughts running through my head, and all of them are making my pants tight. I can just imagine holding her in my arms, feeling her heat seep through to me. Her scent is peaches and cream, with a hint of vanilla. I don't know where she gets it, but it gets me hot just thinking about it. God, her taste is like nothing else. Pure heaven. I could kiss her forever. And her skin? Shit, it's so soft that cashmere feels rough after she's been on me.

She loves to wear these little flirty dresses that just drive me wild. I mean, one good breeze, and DAMN. Let's just say more people would appreciate that perfect ass. She wears these outrageous shoes -- she doesn't like to have to look up at anyone, ya know? I'm 6'2", she's 5'9"; you do the math. They make her legs seem to go on forever. God, I really need some relief here. I'm so hard I can barely think.

Where is she?!

Good God, I want her. I want to smell her, to taste her, to feel her wrap her legs around me. I want to hear her screaming my name as she shatters beneath me. I want to soap her up and rinse her off and do it all again. And again.

Is that? It is! Thank Christ she's here.

"Hey, baby, what took so long?"

"Have you been thinking about me, Rich?"

"Hell yeah, I can't even get up from the table!"

"That's why I suggested you wear your hat. I've been outside for an hour, hoping that was enough time. Hold it in front of you, and let's go and get you out of those tight, uncomfortable jeans."

I couldn't believe it. She did this to me on purpose?

Paybacks are a bitch.

Oh yeah.