Byron-y in the Age of Modernity

Soundtrack: Nick Cave's From Her to Eternity

She sits on a stool. Her legs apart, I stand between them. It's the same place I left with a girl I ***** the night before. Her hands pull me closer between her legs. We strain against convention and socially acceptable physical contact/proximity.... the desire clear to those seated nearby. Some bored (married) couples nod our way. One guy yawns. The other tells some bullshit story about work.

"You feel like home up against me close...."

She says that she's an angel. I mention coincidence and whisper in her ear that I am also.....with a smirk. She says she's already seen my horns. Her fingers tug at the pockets of my designer jeans. I give her some of both: a soft touch and firm grip.

"As your lips form the words that you won't say..."

I comment on the fabric of her dress. She mentions that it forced her to wear underwear, something she normally eschews. Since I'm not in college or high school, I take this in stride with a half smile. I let it hang in the air, I don't keep harping on it, save to mention later and re-escalate. My hands rest on her ass, my fingers feel the fabric of her thong through her dress. It whispers a wordless hymn, a lascivious susurration pulsating from within.

"But for now let's kiss hard, Fuck the games...."

We both know where this will go. She hopes against the signs. She hopes against her penchant for bad boys, players, and rakes. I don't deny her concerns. I do not assuage them. I take them in stride and continue.

"You taste like tear stains and coulda' beens..."

I sit and sip coffee as my thoughts rove over the latent lust in memory....my pressed dress shirt and slacks lie in wait at home. Mayhap a tie will add to the look, mayhap not. It matters not. The dark passenger rocks to and fro eagerly. I have rested. I have hit the gym. I've eaten well.
The only option...answer the call of the wild. I'm caught between fighting off the dark passenger for long weeks then it coming out in a terrible bender of debasement and mania....or taking it for walks a few nights a week in hopes of sating it in methadone-like fashion.

In few hours time....the sun will set. The light will fade, and the dark passenger's playground will spring to life...the rides and amusements will light up and beckon forth those seeking cheap thrills and expensive mistakes.
Good luck and happy hunting my faithful readership. Your humble narrator goes forth as always...hoist the black flag.
-With Greatest Affection

......"Harry was right. I thought I could change what I am, keep my family safe. But it doesn't matter what I do, what I choose. I'm what's wrong -- This is fate."