Cat Scratch Fever (work in progress)
01/11/2006 06:48 a.m.
My favorite critic, colleague, and co-conspirator has gone to bed, so I'm journaling this, letting it hang in the ethernet at least overnight (damn all points East that observe DST).

Sigh.
This may be my new method to overcome a creative block.

UNTITLED (or 'Cat Scratch Fever')
The way she cat crawls up the bed to my lips is unfamiliar. She looks the same, smells the same. But the devil’s in her eyes, like a listless lawyer nefariously concocting a dubious motion.
She’s up to something; I’m excited, but maybe a little concerned. Her touch gentle though firm. I would give my kitty cat anything, yet trust is a commodity best rationed her in small bowls. She just laps it up and stares you down for more. Knowing, of course, you will oblige.
I think this aggressive play has something to do with my behavior at her Christmas office party tonight. Her ass in that gossamer material was too much to resist. I pressed the cup of my hand to her cheek. I ran my index finger against her silk skirt, following the vee of her thong panties down. Looking at her tricep, I think I gave her a chill. The clench in her jaw confirms I succeeded. Let her try to concentrate on what her boss is saying now! Fuck him, I know he wants her. But I’ve been warned to bite my lip at these functions, so I don’t make a scene.
Danger has its place in our love life. But this look she javelins me! A glare naked and raw, feral in form. My instincts say flight but my libido says just surrender. Relax and enjoy. You are the luckiest man with a cock. If you need reminding, you really don’t deserve her.
That’s the typical dialogue that occurs in my head at times like this. She’s wild, unpredictable, and sometimes inflicts pain. But trust me, friend, it’s all worth it in the end. All worth it indeed.
Consider this for a moment: Dana catscratches me, paws me a lot during such sensual playtimes as this. But, like I said, this feral approach is a first. Never will it be said we are not inventive in the bedroom. A prototype or toy or position thought only possible during a space shuttle flight is always around the corner. Much experimentation goes on here, we could easily fill a book.
Note the willful manner with which she’s now nibbling my earlobe, breathing warmly on my neck. Is this an attempt to distract, then drop down to pierce my carotid artery? We play rough, often we contort the grammar of lust. We cajole its words to make a sentence of our own leaving sensual syntax in a turbulent sea amiss with the clothes on the floor.
What to call this form of my lover’s aggression is yet up for consideration. For now, I relax, close my eyes to the width of a lash, and let my cat woman have her way…
I am currently Bleh
I am listening to Coast to Coast AM