Montana Jones

Waking up tired

The morning was filled with a soft haze as I pulled myself from bed to bath to kitchen to desk. Sleep was slow to rub from my eyes, my brain had a cloud in it. The empty beer bottle count told me it was not a hangover. Just tired. Up way too late last night doing, uh, oh yeah, doing her. A memory cracks open in the haze of images I never saw and sounds I never heard. I smile to myself and look to the recent documents on my computer. There it is; a text file. I scan through it, a transcript. A lengthy transcript of last nights IM conversation. It all comes back to me. The reckless flirting, suggestive banter. Scroll down farther, there it is, the erotic descriptions and the fuck me's. I stop reading, the incident painted a picture in my mind that is much nicer than the plain text. In my mind I revisit the sounds of breath and moan and the visions of skin that never actually happened. It was all fantasy. Somehow richer, deeper, more erotic than a real encounter could be. I can picture her naked as though she were actually in this room last night. An odd and powerful construct of imagination. I have never actually seen her naked and yet the memory is there now. Vivid and beautiful. The only thing missing would be the smell of her on my pillow.

Posted by: Montana Jones / 6:43 AM