6.19.2003

 

A sudden gasp escaped from my lips. The blue thong again.

Oh yeah, I had seen it plenty of times since then, since that first night its nonchalant appearance had shoved me into silence. But after that night, every time we met I always needed a moment to get past my staring at her. I would say we had become friends since then, I might even find the audacity to state we had become a lot more than friends after a couple of beers, but to tell the truth, I worshiped and loved it too much that beautiful twinkling blue lady to ever feel comfortable making such a statement.

But those many times on cold snowy nights lying around playing Scrabble and those occasional moments when she accepted my admiration, indulged my longing glances, even gazed back at me to express the strange feeling my devotion provoked in her, opened her mouth to wonder how this had happened or just to ask me to shut the window for fear of catching a chill; I could forget those instances as the slightest missive, not for any lack of enjoyment but purely for the fact that I cannot imagine how I happened upon the luck that leads to such everyday occurrences as this. Not with one like her.

Every time I spied her peeking over the ridge of a waist, I fell back to that first long night when she first showed up on my door in the most indeterminate of moods, when she sat next to me on the couch for hours, saying little, waiting for the right time to whisper in my ear, I will own you Pip. From this day forth my image will haunt your vision, will burn itself onto your consciousness so that even when you close your eyes, your vision will never go totally empty.

And of course she proved herself correct, staying with me and burrowing into my gut such that every subsequent visit turned into a breathlessness followed immediately by a wind knocked out of my lungs sensation, that rush of blood and the attack of knowledge that at some point that night would end. But never with that kind of Sattis House malice did she meet me; she never, as she said, sought to destroy me, but only to captivate me and keep me.

How she had succeeded.

I longed for her laced ridges on days she came by not, and although at first I figured another such pair would strike my fancy, in time I stopped thinking about other colors and styles entirely; another pair of panties would simply lay lifeless on the floor. She did not do such a thing, nor had she ever. Even on the first night of confusion and surprised, she had danced through my consciousness long after the morning bells had tolled.

And there she peered, once more, the latest in an uncountable number of evenings that always ended up as the first time. She winked and turned away from me, toward the dim recesses of my bedroom, beckoned me forth, and smiled as she read lips mouthing you or nothing; I will never want nor find another.