So the O&C anthology is up for presale on amazon, and I couldn't be more thrilled. "Cherries" was one of my favorite stories to write, and to be included in the anthology is a great privilege; nice way to begin 2009, non?
The Husband has no idea about this one. And I've decided to keep it that way. No need in letting it on, and potentially embarassing his family and friends, or him, either. A pity, though. As the chef in the family, you'd think that the prospect of making a dessert that could make a woman come would be intriguing, at the very least.
Everyone focuses on food this time of year: from Thanksgiving until New Year's is a culinary orgy, with everyone putting every type of savory and sweet in their mouths, lamenting about "oh, I shouldn't" and "This is sooo bad", and licking their fingers and lips, asking for the recipie, making those little moans of bliss after the first -- or last bites. And then on January 1, we're all remorseful, vowing constancy and celibacy and moderation, and hating ourselves for every morsel.
Hell, it sounds like me after I gave HJ a blowjob so spectacular that it made me dizzy. I knew I shouldn't have eaten him: he was younger, I wasn't all that experienced, he wanted a relationship I couldn't have with him....but oh, he was beautiful, and sweet, and I gave in. To this day, I get hungry just thinking of how I asked permission before I knelt between his thighs, his cock in my mouth, the sensation of his skin sliding between my lips, hearing his breath catch, not knowing if the soft moans were his or mine, his scent, his taste as he came and I drank him down until i was full. I'd never known it could be like that, that giving pleasure to a man that way could feel so decadent and lovely.
But the next day, I was ashamed and horrified. I tasted him in my mouth, like icing on the tongue long after the party. I wouldn't take his calls. We never spoke again. I vowed to be a good girl, and behave, and not be so damned slutty.
And so here I am, a good girl -- a lady, even -- who writes dirty books and keeps it quiet. And wishes she'd known she hadn't even been bad. So this year, I resolve just that. To not be good or bad, to just be. What is good? 1200 calories a day? Making the bed every morning? Saying please and thank you? What is bad? Sucking cock and liking it? Pecan pie? Doing week 1 of Couch to 5k for 3 weeks?
Looking back with pleasure is far preferable to sighing with regret.
happy new year,