Sunday, October 3, 2010

Stage Three

The pleasant stage has passed. I'm now in the throes of Stage Three.


It's all consuming. There is not one thought in my head that isn't screaming sex. My body vibrates against the air, aching to be touched. I try to muddle through my ordinary day but every moment is a struggle to keep myself under control, to not let on how my body is poised, waiting for a touch to burst into flame.

I know that it must be written on my face. I've never been good at hiding my feelings. I know that every nasty thought, every twisted fantasy in my mind is telegraphed to everyone I pass by, but no one seems to notice. I feel powerful, and I feel shame. I am unsure of myself, unable to convince myself that I will not act inappropriately, that I will not molest someone passing by.

I'm home now, waiting. Waiting for the dark. Waiting for the children to be put to bed. Waiting for dark. Waiting for silence. Waiting for the time that I can let go; when I can unleash the full fury of wantonness that is so desperate to be released. Waiting to implode.

Soon, if only I can wait.

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