So instead of getting into how awesome and incredible last night was, 'cause lemme tell ya, it was both awesome and incredible (incredibly fucking awesome), allow me to tell you what a whore I am for ... tapas.

I had the most amazing food last night. Sun-dried tomato coulee and this sinful-to-die-for green olive tampenade with garlic brushed crostini, and fresh, creamy Havarti, grape leaves stuffed with feta and black olive salad, cajun hummus (I'm not big on the chick-pea, but this was unreal!), oven-roasted shitake with gorgonzola and chile oil, artichoke dip! etc. etc. It was so good I think I may have found tapas-Nirvana.

Tonight I made baby red potatoes with chives and fresh dill. It's okay, don't hate. I made enough for everyone, so you can all come over and enjoy it too. Man, I could never give up meat, I enjoy steak way too much, but there are plenty of days I'm happy not eating it.

In case you missed it, last night? Was incredible. -grin- I'll miss you both.

Dear Livejournal,

Sex. No, seriously. Sex. Sexsexsexsexsex. Motherfuckin' sex. Lots of it. I've had sex in some pretty amazing places. With guys. With girls. Sex on the floor, sex on the beach, sex up against the wall. Sex high, sex down low, fucking my brains out when yes and no might have been two very similar things. Naked, hot and sweaty, screwing one another until names have been forgotten sex.

And if I had a brother, a cute, older, or hey, maybe barely even legal brother, with fine abs and an ass that wouldn't stop, hell, I might have even banged him, too. I'm not ashamed.

Sex. Consensual and implied. Sex in person or not. Over the phone sex, over the internet sex, in both the front and backseats of cars sex! Sex with people of power or in positions of authority. Sex when we probably should have known better. Sex in bathrooms, in busy clubs, on couches covered in baddirtywrong fluids, the less said the better!

So yeah, Livejournal. Sex! Inappropriate, nasty, sometimes immoral, with more than one partner, someone's tongue in my ass, my finger in theirs, with my stockings STILL ON SEX. Because being inappropriate is my god-damned RIGHT sex. Because knowing the difference between reality and fantasy makes the rest of us smarter than you SEX. Because I’d probably fuck you with a dildo for being such stupid cocksucking dickheads about this SEX. Because now you’ve gone and offended me sex.

So yeah. Sex, Livejournal. SEX.

I’m almost too drunk to know what’s really going on... almost. His hand’s around my waist and he’s laughing in my ear, but all I can hear is my balanced heartbeat. A liquefied rhythm that’s been with me throughout the ages...

There’s nothing quiet... nothing clandestine between us. It’s closer and closer to the groups, neither of us capable of melting into the shallow. And I realize I’m over my head, my cocky smile barely the safer save, his hands possessively drawing me away; dragging me towards the obvious void; the blue-black tranquility in “back.” He sings:

“Got a head full of one way rides...
that you won’t believe.
A giant leap from your heart to my arms
Before it’s time to leave”

The cold air makes its ways across my skin, slightly in advance of his play, blazing a scorching trail through my bloodstream with the alcohol adrenaline as he sings:

“Got a ticket on a Sunday drive
In the afternoon
There's nothing quite like your Indian smile
To relay my blues”

His kiss is slow, and I swear to fucking god I can feel his pulse against my lips. I open my mouth, twist my tongue around his, and it’s hot and fast and makes me think of anise and guarantees.

The world spins quick when I close my eyes....

Best to never shut them.

Oh inertia, carry me along.

I did things last night that left bruises on the insides of my thighs and left me sore in places I can't even name. You've really gotta love that!