Detective Curt in the House

Detective Curt just left my house…my bed…my lips…  Great…great…great…

m

Filed under: Detective Curt , dating, divorce, love, sex

Kind of Sad Again Today

Detective Curt cancelled our date late last night.  Duty called.  He telephoned me to apologize and I was in bed when I answered the phone.  I hadn’t heard his voice in so long, and it was so nice and masculine and gentle and he called me sweetheart, which always makes me melt.  (He knows what he is doing.)

Goc already had plans tonight, so I went to the movies alone.    With no man medication to distract me, I thought some about Donny.   I felt kind of sad all day. 

I’m almost finished with my play.  I’m glad I’m writing again.  I need it.

Mora

Filed under: Detective Curt, man medication , dating, divorce, loneliness, love, sex

Still Detective Curt, After All This Time

Detective Curt and I have a date tomorrow night.  That’s right, good ole Detective Curt.  Picture the Marlboro man, but with a gun and a badge. 

I know the sex will be great; it always was.  But for some reason, I keep imagining the moment when I’ll open my door and see him standing there on my porch.   I’ll smile.  He’ll come in.  I’ll close the door and turn around.  He’ll push me up against the closed door and kiss me.  We  will be ravenous. 

I’m feeling ravanously horny lately.  It’s been more than two weeks since Donny and I broke up, and slightly longer since I’ve had sex.  I’m not used to that anymore.  And, if I’m feeling this way now, no wonder I was out-of-my-mind randy when I was married and not having sex for stretches of six months or more.  No wonder. 

I’m also just looking forward to seeing Curt again.  I’ve missed him.  We are new old friends. 

Will he be the way I remember him?  Will I be the way he remembers me?  I know I’ve changed inside.  Will he notice that I’m a different person?  I don’t know.  Again, though, I come back to the concept that it doesn’t matter if he notices.  I’ve changed, and this is what I am committed to:

• I will be honest.
• I will be relaxed.
• I will enjoy myself. 

I’ve come a long way, baby, and I can’t wait to enjoy the view. 

♥Mora

Filed under: Detective Curt , dating, divorce, love, sex

A Guardianship of the Heart

Things are becoming  more intense with Goc (Games of Chance).  We e-mail back and forth all day while we’re working.  He says sweet things to me that make my heart flutter,  like “I have to tell you, it makes me happy to see an e-mail from you. Happens every time.”  

Today, I sent him a joke which he read out of context and misunderstood to mean I wasn’t serious about him.  He wrote me that his  “heart jumped in [his] throat a bit.”  He addresses me as “Hey, Gorgeous,” and we talk on the phone almost every night, usually for over an hour.

At the same time, I’m on a dating website.  There are some serious contenders there, including a boyfriend/girlfriend couple who are looking for a submissive third.  I am not even kidding.  I’m seriously considering them.  They seem nice.  (Am I crazy?)

Here’s another layer in my wild love parfait: I e-mailed Detective Curt tonight.  He’s been hot and heavy after me lately, sending me porn and writing me delicious, sexy e-mails.  As you know, I never quite got him out of my system.  And now, I’m free to cut myself a piece of peanut butter pie.  Yum. 

Still, though, I’m feeling myself bonding to Goc.  Do I really like him so much, or is this another case of drug seeking by a serious addict of man medication?  I really couldn’t tell you.  In fact, looking back on last few years, I would be hard pressed to tell you which men I really loved and which I was using to self medicate. 

I just don’t trust myself anymore when it comes to men, which is why today I’ve found myself wishing that I could engage some kind of Guardian for my heart.  Someone to say “no, no, little girl,” or “yes, this one is all right,” or, “Stop fantasizing!  He’s not interested!”  (Yes, there’s one of those, too.)   

If I could, I really would give my heart over to Mr. Freeze or Constance or Therapeutic Ramblings  for three to six months to manage.  I just don’t trust myself with it.   And everyone knows the one thing you need to make love work is  trust.

♥ Mora

Filed under: Detective Curt, Games of Chance, man medication , dating, divorce, love, sex

The Pie Thief

Once upon a time, there was a girl:

The girl was hungry all of the time.  She was starving. 

One day, her stomach churning and growling, she walked past a large, neglected-looking house.  She saw a cherry pie cooling on the kitchen window sill:

Her throat in her heart, the girl stole the pie.  It wasn’t wrong, she reasoned, because she was starving. 

“The family in that house can make another pie any time they want,” the girl told herself.  “I need it to live.”

After that, whenever she was hungry, the girl would find a neglected-looking house with a pie in the window and take it.  Living on pies wasn’t nutritious for the girl.  She often felt tired and run-down, but the pies sustained her. 

Time passed.  Through struggle and good fortune, the girl aquired a house of her own.  She had access to a supermarket and money to buy food.  She even baked a pie for herself, now and again.  It was a lot of work.  

Then one day, walking home from work, the girl passed by that old first house, and there was  a cherry pie cooling in the window. 

 

She felt hungry.  She knew she could go home and bake herself a pie.  She realized, however, that she had acquired a taste for stolen pies and for pies stolen from that window sill of that house, in particular.  They were so hot and steamy and so sweet and juicy, and she loved the adrenaline rush she experienced as she crept up to that handsome window on all fours, red checked kitchen curtains billowing in the breeze.  She longed for the satisfaction she knew she would feel when that crust and those cherries were hers. 

But was it wrong? 

If stealing pies hadn’t been wrong when the girl was homeless and kitchenless and hungry, how could exactly the same behavior be wrong now?  Is it the action that is inherently wrong (in which case stealing a pie would be wrong even if you were starving to death), or is it the circumstances that determine whether what you do is immoral? 

But if that is so, how can a behavior that never hurt anyone in the past suddenly hurt someone now? 

“Those people never missed their pies before.  Why would they suddenly miss them now, just because I have a kitchen and and oven and an Albertson’s card? ” the girl rationalized. 

I think that maybe the girl has a good point. 

♥

“Detective Curt,” I wrote in an e-mail to my favorite married sex-mate on Sunday morning, “I think your penis must have ESP.” 

He had e-mailed me maybe a dozen times over the past six months.  The last time, I told him that I was in a relationship (with Donny) and wanted to be a good girl.

Donny and I broke up on Thursday, and Detective Curt e-mailed me on Sunday.  It’s like his penis knew I was panicking that there was no pie. 

♥

When I was married and starving, and Detective Curt was a delicious slice of pie, I saw nothing immoral in sleeping with him.  But now that I’m single, would seeing Detective Curt again be wrong? I’m on the fence, or, let us say, the window sill.  Should I eat the pie, or not?  I’m jonsing for a slice of peanut butter pie.

Mora   

Filed under: Detective Curt, pie , cheating, divorce, love, married man, sex