The D Spot » The good witch

The spaces between us

Sat, 03 Jan 2009 16:46:56 +0000

Sweet like sugar and tasting
like the insides of a sour candy after I’ve
sucked all the tartness away.
Holding onto me like warmth
Like the smoke from a fire that I smell
the next morning in my hair.
I feel you breathe
I see what you see thru your eyes as they are
clouded with me.
I hear what you hear and I listen closely to
the words left unsaid, the spaces
between the words are where the real
conversation lies.
I lie with you nightly, hearing the
beat of your heart, the
rustle of your hair as it grows and the
edgy sound of silence as you dream.
We dream together and I can almost reach you
in the dreamtime, the quiet time,
in the spaces between us.

another night, another shift.

Wed, 24 Dec 2008 17:39:46 +0000

Sometimes its brutal trying to be nice.
Dealing with someone manipulative, who wants everything and then a little more. People forced to be within 4 feet of each other, yelling at each other. Making fun of one another.
Always the peacekeeper, I try to walk the fine line between supportive and firm.
Ship them out, treat and street. They leave to come back another day, with the same wants, the same needs, the same demands. “But they ALWAYS give me TWO sandwiches. But they ALWAYS give me three rolls of medical tape. But can’t you just give me a COUPLE ace bandages?” And why on earth do you need this stuff anyway? I want to scream it, but its that firm yet supportive smile, with a no and a shake of the head.
Yes, go ahead, take the leaflet from housekeeping. God knows what you need it for but go ahead and yes, two sandwiches if it makes you actually leave the room an hour after I discharged you.
And to turn around and find another person, a friend, being threatened by one of her patients. Security swarms and the police eventually show up a couple hours later. Meanwhile, the perp is gone, laughing all the way.
How do you maintain the professionalism when they just suck you dry?
There’s that phrase again…’compassion fatigue’.
Yet I go back, we go back, time and time again. Sure it pays the bills. But it’s more than that.
Maybe next time we are faced with the wants, the needs, the demands…maybe that will be the time we actually fix something for a change.

The last time ever I saw your face

Fri, 31 Oct 2008 12:54:08 +0000

I still vividly remember the last time I saw him.
We were standing down by the river, at the little dock where we’d spent most of the summer. It was late August and the sun was still high, but there was a chill in the air where it brushed my neck. Or maybe it was just the words he spoke that gave me goosebumps.
“You know I have to leave soon, right?” He said, looking into my eyes.
I felt his hands, large and warm on my shoulders. His breath smelled of clove cigarettes and the stolen beer we’d shared.
“Yeah,” I said, willing the tears to stay back. I didn’t want to ruin what felt like an important moment.
He sighed, and looked off behind my right shoulder. I looked at my feet, red toenail polish chipped and worn.
“It was a good summer,” he said, almost absently.
This time, it was I who sighed. He drew me against him and I lay my cheek on his chest. His heart beat steady and I timed my breathing to his. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the scent of him. Warm and salty. My arms wrapped around his waist.
I didn’t ever want the moment to end, but at some point, he pulled away. I looked up into his eyes.
I wanted to say something profound. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me…his friendship, his support. I wanted him to know how important he was to me, and how my feelings had evolved and changed over the last few weeks.
Oh how I wanted to kiss him.
But instead, I just smiled at him. “Any more beer left?” I asked, reaching compulsively for the safety of ‘just friends.’ I wanted to shout from the dock and out across the water how much I felt for him, how deeply I needed him….but yet, I didn’t want to risk losing him. His friendship was what he offered and I accepted. To ask for more would have been greedy.
We sat on the dock and watched the sun set, sharing a beer and talking of the inconsequentials.
Before long the mosquitoes came out and the frogs began their nightly chanting. “I should get going,” he said, standing up and offering me his hand. “Nice day today. I’m glad we came out here.”
I tried so hard not to read into his words. It had been a nice day. I wouldn’t let myself ruin it by getting serious and emotional. Later, I would cry myself to sleep with longing for him. Now, however, I would be the friend-buddy-pal that had become my role in this lopsided relationship.
He walked me to my car. We held hands as we navigated the trail back up from the dock. Did he feel the shock and thrill that I did when our hands met? He walked a little ahead of me and I studied his shoulders as he moved, the muscles just beneath the skin of his back. I wanted to touch them, to rub my palms across the flat of his back and rake my nails down his spine. I wondered what his skin tasted like.
Instead, I got my carkeys out of my front pocket and hit the automatic unlock button on the remote. “Here we are,” I said. “Got any plans for tomorrow?” I asked, praying I sounded casual. Maybe I’d tell him tomorrow.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”
I shrugged. “Ok then, maybe I’ll talk to you then.”
I got in my car and started it up. “Drive careful,” he said.
“I always do,” I replied.
I saw him from my rearview window. He had turned and was looking back over across the river. Eventually he got smaller in the distance until I couldn’t distinguish him anymore.
I drove home slowly, the windows down to let in the damp August air.
Tomorrow, I promised myself. I would tell him tomorrow once and for all how I felt about him.

the party (part 6) (the mushy bits)

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 21:01:33 +0000

“Let it go,” he whispered against my mouth.
“I can’t,” I said, pulling back. “What if its an emergency?”
I rolled over and reached the phone on the bedside table. “Hello?” I said, figuring I sounded pretty out of breath.
He rolled in close behind me, leaving a trail of tickly kisses across my ear and down my neck. I stifled a giggle. “Hello?” I said again. I was distracted by the feel of his lips as they worked their way down my spine in soft, butterfly kisses, but I heard enough to find that it was the front desk, concerned because I hadn’t answered the door when my bottle of wine was delivered. I hadn’t even heard the knock I thought to myself, swatting him away as his kisses ran lower and lower.
I quickly told the conceirge that I had changed my mind and no need for room service tonight.
I hung up the phone and rolled back over.
We were facing each other now, close enough to breathe each others’ breath.
He reached out and twirled some of my hair around his fingers. “I almost can’t believe this is happening,” he said. “After all this time.”
“20 years is a long time,” I agreed, touching his face, running my fingers along the side of his nose, the slope of his jaw. “I am so glad that we found each other.” I frowned. “I do feel bad about Julie though. I feel like I ruined things.”
He sighed and rolled over on his back, pulling me along with him so I was laying with my head on his chest. I felt my heart attune with the beat of his. “Julie and I were having problems way before you came into the picture,” he said. “You just helped me clarify it.”
“But its not fair that she gets hurt.”
He laughed sardonically. “I don’t think you should worry about that. Julie always has someone to take care of her. Remember my cousin Jim, from the party tonight?” I nodded and he continued. “Who do you think was keeping Julie company when we were in the bathroom together?”
My eyes widened. “Really?” I said.
“Really. I’ve known about them for a few months now, but I think it’s gone on longer than that.”
“Why didn’t you end things earlier then?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. When you and i were getting reacquainted these last few months, I was just so excited to be talking with you, I didn’t want anything to bring me down, least of all a scene with Julie. She’s the one who actually ended things with me a couple weeks ago.”
“Did she find my emails?” I said, tracing circles in his chest hair.
“I don’t know. She may have. She never told me if she did.”
He sighed and I didn’t speak. What was there for me to say?
We lay there for a little while, and I may have even started to drowse. Time seemed to stand still when we were together like this, snug in our coccoon of sheets and blankets.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I became aware of was the feel of his hands, up and down my back. Somehow I’d turned onto my stomach and I woke to the thrill of goosebumps as he ran his fingertips up and down my back and sides. I inhaled shakily and heard him laugh. “The princess awakes,” he said, continuing the mesmerizing flutter of fingertips on my back. I began to feel the melting feeling again.
“That feels so good,” I told him. “Don’t stop.”
He leaned over on top of me, so his mouth was close to my ear. “Don’t worry,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. “I’ve only just begun.”

The party (part 5) the steamy bits

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 20:41:22 +0000

He smiled at me and pushed the robe off my shoulders. It fell into the tub and splashed the backs of my calves with small warm droplets. I continued to look into his eyes as he rubbed his hands up and down my sides. “You have to believe me,” he said softly. “I love you so much. I thought you knew that.”
It was true that the emails between us–which had started as friendly notes between old friends–had gotten progressively more intimate. And come on, who was I kidding? I’d flown 500 miles to see him.
I opened my mouth to say something or another, and before I could speak he was pressing his lips to mine. I felt a surge, a jolt of electricity as our lips met, and then the warm slide into desire began. I staggered in his arms and he held me tighter.
Wordlessly, he helped me step into the tub and I stood in the calf-deep water. He found the washcloth on the side of the sink and poured my rose-scented bath gel onto it. Breathing deeply, he began to massage me with the warm soapy cloth. I closed my eyes, giving into the experience. He rubbed my neck in small circular strokes, and drew a long path up and down my back. It was almost hypnotic. I sighed when he stroked the backs of my thighs. Next he rinsed me with handsful of water, pouring it gently over my shoulders so it ran down my back, my breasts, my legs.
With a sly smile, he handed me a towel and I wrapped up in it and stepped out the tub. He led me by the hand to the bed. Turning back the covers, he motioned for me to get in.
As I slid under the covers, he began to quickly undress. I was still damp and getting chilly with the air conditioning on. That soon changed however, as he slid in next to me. His skin was hot and I could feel myself begin to melt all over again. He lay on his side and looked at me.
“I am so glad that we are here right now,” he said softly, grasping my hand.
I smiled. “Me too,” I whispered. My body was practically vibrating with desire. He leaned over and began to gently kiss my mouth, his lips warm and soft. I sighed into his mouth.
I felt a sudden bolt of electricity shoot thru the both of us and at the same time he pulled me toward him, his mouth now more demanding, his kisses more urgent. I met them with my own demands.
I pressed myself to him, skin to skin. He kissed my neck, my shoulders.
The room was spinning and I felt myself begin to let go, to loose myself in the sweet sensation of him.
That was when the phone rang.

The party (part three)

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 20:15:44 +0000

His hands were hot on my hips and I instinctively leaned back into him. His breath came closer to my neck…
My lips parted, a sigh escaped me. The flutter of his breathing caressed my neck…
and suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door. “Hey! Hurry it up in there!” a man’s voice shouted.
We jumped apart as if we’d been shocked, looking guiltily into each others’ eyes.
“I should go,” he said. “I…well, I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
He left the bathroom quickly, closing the door behind him. I heard the man on the other side of the door groan in frustration as I turned the lock.
I leaned on the sink and looked at my face. I was flushed across my cheeks and down my neck. My low-neck T-shirt showed pinkened skin across the tops of my breasts. I sprinkled some cool water on my face and chest, trying to catch my breath.
This was a mistake, I decided. It was time to go. I should have never came.
Resignedly, I opened the bathroom door and the sound of the party and the music hit me like a wall. I felt a throb beginning in my left temple.
I began to weave my way through small groups of two and three people, realizing that more people must have come in while I was in the bathroom.
I was almost to the door when I heard Julie’s voice. “Can I have everyones attention? Hello! Can anyone hear me?”
I didn’t want to turn around but I was compelled. Julie had dragged a coffee table into the center of the dance area and was standing on it, clapping her hands for quiet. Soon all eyes were focused on her.
“I want to thank you all for coming,” she began, smiling with her collagen-enhanced lips. “This party wouldn’t have been possible without each and every one of you. But most of all,” she said, turning doe eyes on him. “It wouldn’t have been possible without the love of my life.” People began to clap and Julie reached her hand out to him. “Happy birthday honey.” She said, taking his hand “I love you so much.” Julie threw her arms around him and that was about as much as I could handle.
I turned to the door and walked out.
I’d had to park in the street several houses down. The house was well lit but the street wasn’t, and I walked slowly, trying not to loose my footing in the uneven grade.
I could just make out the shape of my truck when I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned expectantly, thinking this was sounding more and more like some cheesy teen romance novel.
It was him, of course.
“Weren’t you going to say goodby?” He said, panting a little as he caught up.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. I didn’t want him to hear a wobble.
“Why not?” He asked, taking me by the upper arms and turning me to face him.
The moon was full, and I could just see the sparkle in his eyes.
Damn, I thought.
“You have Julie in there, pledging her love and throwing this whole party for you. You don’t need me in there to screw it up.” I tried to sound calm and reasonable but I thought I probably sounded whiney. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Besides, she made it perfectly clear how you feel.”
He looked at me. “What are you talking about?”
“I used to mean something to you.”
He looked at me silently, and I felt he was sizing me up. “Do you really believe that?” He asked me quietly. I didn’t answer and he continued, his hands gripping my arms harder. “What else could I tell her? She knew that we had a thing once.”
“A thing?” I interrupted, starting to lose my temper. “Is that all it was? A thing?”
“Oh come on,” he said. “You know it was more than that. You and I …we have that connection. I don’t know how to describe it.”
I nodded. “But what about now?” I asked softly. “All those emails and late-night phone calls…what am I supposed to believe when I came here to see you and instead watched your pet barbie-doll fawn all over you?” I turned to continue walking to my truck. “This was a mistake. It was all one big mistake.”
The tears were falling now and I hoped he didn’t hear it in my voice.
“Please,” he said. “Can I explain?”
I didn’t answer, just kept walking to my truck. When I got in, I saw him from my rearview mirror, still standing in the middle of the road, looking at me helplessly. I gunned the engine and popped the clutch. Tomorrow I would take the first flight out.

The party (part two)

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 18:52:37 +0000

I sighed and looked around. I made up my mind to have fun; after all, I’d travelled long enough to get here.
I walked around the edges of the room, avoiding the center area where it looked like it had been set up for dancing. There was one of those do-it-yourself parquet dance floors, and a CD player in the corner was playing the type of music I’d begun to associate with Julie–Bubble-gum pop interrupted by slow rock ballads. Another slow ballad started, a raspy voiced singer going on about his lost love.
I watched as Julie pulled him out to the dance floor. He looked reluctant, but resigned.
She pressed herself against him and they began to rock side to side. A few other couples joined them and I stepped back against the wall to let them pass.
I sighed, half watching the dancing and half staring into space.
Although I found the musical choice laughable, there was something to be said about being held in someone’s arms and moving slow. I sighed. I was becoming more and more sure that this was a mistake.
I made my way to the bathroom, with the intent of fixing my lipgloss and getting a break from the mock-80′s display on the dance floor. Stepping over a couple having what appeared to be a very intense conversation while sitting on the floor, I almost tripped and fell onto another partygoer.
“Whoa!” he said, catching me as I more or less fell into his arms.
“Thanks, ” I said, standing up straight.
“I haven’t met you before,” the man said with a smile. He held out his hand. “I’m Jim. Cousin to the birthday boy.”
I took his hand with a smile. I could see the resemblance now, between them. They each had the same seawater eyes and something about the shape of their noses. “Nice to meet you! I’m–” I was interrupted suddenly by the feel of a warm hand on my back, between my shoulderblades.
“I see you’ve met Jim.”
“Yeah, you could say we bumped into each other.” Jim snickered.
I smiled. “Where’s Julie?”
He shrugged. “The Macarena came on. I have my dignity.” Sure enough, I could see Julie and a few of her Barbie-clone friends shaking their money makers on the little dance floor.
“I’m getting another beer,” Jim said. “You guys want anything?”
I shook my head.
“Nah, we’re fine.”
Jim left and we were alone again. “I was just going to comb my hair,” I said, pointing towards the bathroom door. “I tripped and Jim caught me.”
He smiled. “C’mon.”
His hand was warm on mine and I enjoyed the shocky tingle that ran up my arm when our skin touched. He led us into the bathroom and closed the door. The music was instantly muted.
“Peace at last,” He said with a smile.
I stood there awkwardly. I wanted to touch his hands, his arms..but I didn’t know if I should, especially after watching him and Julie on the dance floor. Finally, I just opened my purse and took out my lipgloss. I faced the mirror and began to apply it.
He was standing just behind me, watching me as I applied the slick gloss to my lips. I caught his eye and he smiled. Still holding eye contact in the mirror, he reached around me and took the makeup from my hand, setting it on the edge of the sink.
I found it hard to breathe.
His left hand was on my left hip and his right hand brushed the hair off my neck. “Mmm” He said, leaning in. “You smell delicious.”
I felt him brush my hair with his face, and felt him move his head down lower. My eyes were closing with anticipation and I saw just before they closed all the way that he was leaning in to my neck. My skin cried out for the touch of his lips. I inhaled sharply, my whole body tense with desire to feel him. HIs hands were hot on my hips and I instinctively leaned back into him. His breath came closer to my neck…

The party (part one)

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 17:28:45 +0000

I walked into the party with not a little trepidation. I knew only the one person–the guest of honor, of all people–and I was nervous that I wasn’t dressed right. I’d gone with jeans and a nice top, low heels so that in case there was any dancing, I wouldn’t fall and make a fool of myself.
Of course, I thought, what does it matter if they are all strangers?
And of course the reply is that the only one who is not a stranger–that is the one who’s opinion matters to me.
Anyway, after I got in I began to relax. The house was small, and there couldn’t have been more than two dozen people there. I grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the tub next to the door and found a quiet corner in which to scan the room.
“Hey, you made it!”
I looked up from my drink, which I was trying to pop open with my less-than-able short fingernails. There he was, next to me.
I smiled, and surruptuously inhaled the scent of him. He doesn’t wear cologne or anything of the sort; I just know his scent well.
“Yeah, here I am!” I said, probably too brightly. Inside my mind I rolled my eyes. Idiot, I thought. Say something more intelligent! “So,” I said outloud. “Nice party!”
“Yeah,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead with a napkin and leaning against the wall beside me. My left elbow almost touched his right elbow and I could feel little bits of heat coming off his skin. “There are some people here I haven’t seen in forever. Over there is a guy I went to high school with,” he said, pointing to a tall man in a bright hawaiian print shirt. “And the girl he’s with is one of my ex girlfriends.” He sounded bemused.
“Huh,” I said. “Small world.”
We were silent for a few minutes. I sipped my drink in teeny sips, afraid that he’d be able to hear me swallow. My throat had gone dry the minute I saw him.
Suddenly he turned to me, leaning his right elbow against the wall, and resting his head in his right hand. “I am really glad to see you,” he said. I hoped I wasn’t imagining the emphasis he placed on the word ‘really’.
I opened my mouth to answer him, and to tell him how glad I was that I was able to make it, when he turned suddenly to his left. A young bouncy blonde had taken hold of his left hand. “Hey! Aren’t you going to introduce me?” She said in an impossibly high voice.
He may have winced, but since I know that I definitely winced, I am not sure. “Ah, sure,” he said. “This is Julie,” he said turning to me. Before he could give her my name, Julie extended her teeny little hand. I couldn’t resist noting the pepto-pink fingernails. Little Barbie daggers I thought, resisting a smile. Her hand was unsurprisingly cold and limpid in mine. Anemic too, I thought. It figures. She was exactly how I’d imagined, and I couldn’t decide if that thought made me feel better or worse.
“Isn’t this such a great party?” She babbled. “I am so glad you could come. He’s told me all about you, and how important you used to be.”
I raised my eyebrow. Used to be? I wondered. He definitely winced that time.
Julie continued on, not even realizing her impolite faux-pas. “It wasn’t easy pulling this all together…finding all the people, hacking into his email to get their addresses!” She giggled.
I stole another glance at him. Hacking into his email??
He shook his head briefly and I released the breath I’d been holding. She hadn’t hacked all of them then.
Julie prattled on but I lost the thread of her words. I watched instead the way those pink nails (claws? talons? I thought uncharitably) latched onto his arm. Possessive to say the least.
“C’mon honey,” she said to him, pulling him away from me. “I don’t need to bore her with all my talk. There is someone over here who wants to wish you a happy birthday!” He looked at me apologetically and let himself be led away.
I sighed.
This was going to be a long night.

How not to grow up

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 19:21:30 +0000

My nephew got married a few weeks ago and today he sent me the digital copies of his wedding pictures.
I am amazed at both how old he and his bride are (how are they 26 and 29 already??) and yet dually amazed by how young they are (They are only 27 and 29!!).
I was 24 when R and I got married and back then I thought I was grown up. I suppose my nephew and his bride think that they are grown up as well.
As did my mother and her friends, who were all married at 18 or so.
Now of course, 15+ years into marriage, I have learned a thing or two. One very important thing:
You don’t really ever have to grow up.
Sure, you play dress up in the clothes, and you playact when out and about with others who think they are grown up too. (Or, even worse, the ones who really did grow up. That’s a sad sight.)
You can hold your job, pay your bills, have your own children. (Responsible and grown up do not mean the same thing),
But inside, where it counts, you are only as old as you allow your yourself to be.
Go to work on time, and bring home your paycheck.
But remember to have fun with it.
Look at your partner and remember that you are not looking just at today, but at all the days you’ve known each other. You can see the past, when the crow’s feet werent so pronounced, and you can see the future, as you hold hands watching the sun set.
Remember to laugh. Smile lines are not wrinkles.
And when you find joy (and you must remember to look for it in the small places!) share that joy with others.
Tell someone you love them, with the openness of a child.
Hug someone with the unselfconsciousness of youth.
Hold hands, like your mother always told you to do.
Love someone with your heart wide open.
Do these things, kids, and you won’t ever have to grow up.

emotional infidelity

Wed, 03 Sep 2008 13:58:11 +0000

I was watching a show that discussed emotional infidelity—having an ‘affair of the heart’ without necessarily moving to the physical level. The consensus was that an emotional affair is worse than a physical affair. (assuming one can split the two, of course).
They said 97% percent of the women surveyed felt that an emotional affair would likely lead to a physical affair.
Warning signs that you are entering dangerous waters include increasing your communication with this person, thinking about this person a lot, and fantasizing about that person. The experts on the panel also said that often, a person enters an emotional affair when the sex life at home has fizzled out a bit.
*
Ok
*
So, I start to thinking (always dangerous)…
What if a person is having all the physical encounters they want and need at home, but is searching for intimacy/friendship? What if the primary relationship does not lend itself to sharing secrets, joys, pains, etc?
How is it bitching to your best girlfriend different from bitching to your best guy friend?
I am one that is against ‘male bashing’ and ‘husband bashing’. I think its mean and cruel.
But I imagine that sometimes, a person has an issue they would want to talk about, or is not receiving the emotional support they need at home.
I suppose there is always therapy. But a therapist costs money, and a therapists goal is going to be to teach you to rely on yourself.
What if you just want a sympathetic ear? Is that emotional infidelity?
And what if you do fantasize about another person? Does that make you a cheater? Does it matter if its Brad Pitt vs. the sexy guy who delivers your mail? Does it matter if its a stranger or a person you’ve known your whole life?