Thursday, July 29, 2010

Songs about Jane: Speed writing till I scream

Like the desert needs the rain…Then I digress.



I woke up feeling like the lead actor on the set of a Hollywood romcom (romantic comedy). Saturday morning, and the sun was winking hello through my windows overhead. I had no plans for the day, none of the dately Lagos engagements, no weekend meetings, so I could stretch out in this lushness for as long as my body demanded. And stretching out next to me was the better part of the deal. There’s truly something about waking up next to a beautiful woman. I leaned over an idyllic elbow to appreciate the wonder of my woman’s near naked body.

She’s tall and slender like me, and she was wearing my favorite purple lace underwear. I bit my lip as I followed through her subtle curves all the way down to her butt checks strutting out proudly a little beneath. Supple, clean skin- I swear a woman with impeccable hygiene standards should be honored above most. Ask a man what he wouldn’t do for or to her. (How I’ve been celibate for four years now is still totally beyond me.) She’s got cute breasts, which in the hay days used to drive me nuts as I remember once fervently praying them just a wee bit plumier. But in my matureness, I consider them the feat of her anatomic artistry. They remind me of a double pack of exotic cupcakes with the proudest and roundest currant dropped right in the middle. Well of course you can imagine that over the years I’ve grown an affinity for cupcakes. *Bite me*

Literal paper mold remains from chocolate royal cupcakes and blue bunny ice-cream did litter the foot of the bed just beneath the flat screen where we’d pitched cozy tent for our regular Friday night movies. She stirred and observed with an open eye that I’d been indulging early morning eye candies and daydreaming thereof. “We should get you a rubber for your roaming mind”, she murmured with a smile. Gosh I love her wit! I spanked fleshy cuppycakes as I leaned over her-turgid beneath-, “Don’t tease”. and planted a small kiss-just like in the movies then got off the bed and into the notional arms of my blinking laptop.

I could have sworn I heard God’s big toe tip tapping to Louis Armstrong’s “What a wonderful Life” as I keyed in my intro:

“Songs about Jane: Speed writing till I scream…”


Another day...Hope sometimes is painful.

14 comments:

  1. Our Soul waits for the Lord
    He is our help and our shield.
    For our heart shall rejoice in Him,
    because we have trusted in His Holy name.
    *Cheerful Smirk*

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  2. Gosh T, you are truly gifted in how you can paint a picture with words. and you are my hero in your quest to a closeness to God thru celibacy. Your 4yrs against my 2 mths. Speak Yoda, I'm listening.

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  3. @musco:LOL!!!!I knew that would raise eyebrows!!!I would plead the prerogative of "Fictitious or Factual"

    @YN: Hmmm,so says the damsel who's compiled fat chapters of a budding novel!Me,what do i know about writing!*wink*

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  4. Eyebrows shld be raised!4 yrs and you write sensually like this?

    Take time o T.Notes .... there are married women on blogville!

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  5. 4yrs celibacy...thats some strength. love the way write

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  6. iLike!
    4 years? If that's you true true and not fiction, I applaud you, lol

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  7. If your writing and description of Jane is fact, then you only just met her. Otherwise, the 4 years of celibacy just ended. Yes?

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  8. Nice write up, nothing like a few minutes of literary escape. Hope on dear, it shall not be cut off.

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  9. Amen....it is well, we don't have much of a choice in the matter do we?....loved the writing as usual

    p.s. say hi to the missus for me :)

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  10. em definitely.. speed writing! interesting blog!

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  11. Celibacy is not an izzy somehting. I mean after you have tasted the forbidden fruit. It is much better not to do at all. lol

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  12. Your girl is very lucky, in that she has you all to herself. She's also very lucky that you are so devoted to her, devoted enough to write about her so lovingly. Not all of us are so lucky. Great blog. I'll sure to be back for more.

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