Singing In The Rain

December 6, 2010

All good things must come to an end; and like all big storms, this one started with just one raindrop.

In a moment of weakness I texted The Britt; was his interest in me purely physical or did he wanted more? He’d been sending rather mixed messages for 3 weeks now; never one to play games, I needed to know where we stood. In his ever-evasive English way, rather than answer me, he called and we chatted about everything other than sex. I guess that means he wants more…?

Arriving in Miami was a breath of fresh air. Although I was there for work, it was still a relief from the stress of the past few months of New York grinding. Very unexpectedly The Ex emailed me advising he would be in New York ‘very, very soon’. Lovely, of course I had just left.

Fortunately or unfortunately (no one really knows) I would be returning to the city the same day The Ex was to arrive. Through our classic witty banter I learn he is no longer with his girlfriend… and through chatting with my ever-gossiping Mum, discover he has informed his mother that he is coming to New York is to visit me. Okay…?

Miami had me running from party-to-art show and back again. We’d had no communication but was not lost on me that The Artist must be there somewhere, which is exactly when I received his text. Later that night we crossed paths at The Interview Mag party at The Delano. He looked unbelievably hot and I was dying to get my hands on him. After indulging in a performance by my hero and ground breaking performance artist, Marina Abramovic, where she swam naked in their famous pool I was flying high on the energy from the room.

Apparently he felt the same because at 2AM with ditched our friends for wild sex in his penthouse apartment along the Miami Beach waterfront. The Artist was just as rough as I remembered and even more hungry. His hands and teeth left more than his usual mark, making for slightly awkward poolside tanning the following day. My nipples were seriously bruised and I wasn’t exactly sure how I would explain that to The Britt, should he ever call me again.

Just when I thought that nothing else could possibly arise, I received an email that was long overdue. The Photographer; the first man I’d been with after The Ex and my first ‘friend’ in New York. We’d been through so much, yet nothing at all over the past 2 ½ years. To be honest, I never thought things would have carried on this far.

It was strange to find myself happy reading his thoughtfully crafted note. He may have been more surprised by my response than I was. “I am so proud of you,” pushing the buttons on my blackberry I told him I would always be there for him as his friend.

Since the moment we met I knew he was lost; finally he'd caught up to speed and wanted to do something about it. I only want the best for him, so of course, even though salty tears rolled down my cheeks, I was happy for him. My tears were selfish; I knew we would never really be friends and it broke a tiny piece of my heart to lose him.

Back to The Delano for my last Miami dinner, The Britt called my mobile. Caught off guard and completely surprised, I answered. I think this really could be something after all.

They say there is a calm before the storm; perhaps I was just too busy with the pace of the city to have noticed it. 

Mark My Word

November 16, 2010

You know it's good when he leaves a mark.

I could tell from the first time we’d fucked that he loved sex; though it appeared he’d never been with a woman who was open to exploring it. All that was about to change. 

The Brit and I had been between the sheets for hours, yet somehow I was craving more. We lay naked, our breath heavy and slow. I reached across his chest and dragged my nails over his skin. He was taken with me in every way, but most especially how I pushed him to explore sex. The Brit would spank me and I could see his excitement rise. He’d grab my neck and squeeze tightly; he later confessed he’d never that done before and how much he liked it.

I was half way out the door when I felt his hands on my waist. The Brit lifted me onto his kitchen table, pulled my lace La Perla thong to the side and devoured me, again. He ripped off the lace using his teeth and slid himself inside me, taking me harder than ever before. It felt amazing and even though I was going to be so late for drinks, I wanted him to keep going.

Pulling me off the table, he bent me over the grey leather couch. My ass in the air, he continued to work me until I let go.

I woke up the next morning with giant blue and purple marks across my lower back… If we were going to keep fucking in the kitchen, he was going to have to invest in a new table.

Take Things As They Come

Nan Goldin

November 8, 2010

When a man calls your phone at 1:30AM, after more than a year sans communication, you know he is only interested in one thing. And seeing as we'd never had sex, I found myself taken aback when he began whispering dirty sentiments through the phone.

The following morning, in what was starting to feel like clockwork, the phone flashed his name across the screen. The Brit was not giving up easily. The words rolled off his tongue sending shivers throughout my body, making me ache to be touched, kissed and pulled apart.

"Rather than tell me what you want to do to me, why don't I hop into a taxi and you can just do it?" As fun as it was to hear about how hot I made him, I didn't want to talk; I wanted action.

The door to his Tribeca penthouse loft swung open; his lips immediately pressed against mine. His hands skimmed the sides of my waist and hips. Grabbing tightly, he threw me up against the wall and kissed my neck and shoulders.

The Brit grabbed my ass and lifted me up so my legs wrapped around his waist then carried me to bed. After what felt like 12 hours of anticipation, he made me come once; then again, and again once more.

Not exactly what I had anticipated doing all Saturday afternoon; but hey, sometimes you just have to roll with it.