Le chateau de vent

  Amy and I first met when she worked as a waitress in a coffee bar. The first time I walked in, she almost killed me. I was shaking the rain off my coat, as I became aware of someone staring at me intently. When I lifted my head, her eyes locked on mine and her lips relaxed into the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. For a minute I was weightless: the floor caved in under my feet and my mind somersaulted into space. Then she electrified my body. Pangs of lust surged through my nipples, straight down to my crotch. For 3 long seconds my heart stopped. I wasn’t the only one enchanted by her. A string of male admirers visited the café. She always played along, but she never dated them. “Too busy to invest time in relationships,” she claimed. The more I saw her, the more I lusted after her, until I became possessed with a physical desire so strong and so specific that I could no longer ignore it. I became convinced that I needed to get her into my bed. We became friends. She took

  You leave me with a feeling of concern and worry. Heavy and unsettling. Your pain and sadness are spreading slowly through my body.  We talked on the phone while you were waiting at the airport, but my overzealous ego hijacked the conversation. Ever so rationally cleaning up all loose ends. Mopping up doubts and fear. No room for hard feelings and contradictions. I cannot allow us to be tender lovers. I don't understand why I hurt you and tell you these things that only cause pain. Why I let you leave. Maybe it's because I can't really feel anything when I talk to you. My body is one big mess of scalding fear, so I summon ratio to scorch and seal it up before anything inappropriate spills out. There are contradictions. I know. Lifelong marriage, impossible if it's not broken up at a certain point to make room for transformation. Fear (beyond measure) to imagine how it would be to jump and embrace the new.  Shame and the prospect of intense mourning and grief. Two

Big companies always provide the lamest excuses for not paying their bills on time. 4 o’clock already. It’s my day off and I‘ve spent it almost entirely at the business, cursing in front of the computer. I have been checking payments and sending reminders, not my favorite pastime by far. But I can’t really complain. Things are going well for my catering company. I have specialized in exclusive finger food for parties and receptions and cater mainly to large companies. Exotic hors d’oeuvres and inventive tapas are my forte. I roam the empty kitchen. Usually the place is buzzing with activity. Steam hisses in the woks and everywhere is the rhythmic sound of my chefs chopping herbs and vegetables. But today it is awfully quiet and clean. My mood darkens. Spare time has become rare and I still don’t know how to deal with the emptiness and silence of being single. It’s been 2 years since I broke up with Sarah and I have been working my ass off ever since. I’ll cook, I decide. Some exper

And then I understood: the reason for this intermittent feeling of horniness is that I'm becoming me. I'm finding myself | sexy, I'm feeling my bodyparts.

I've been weak. I mean, I've been getting that feeling of weakness, mushy mangled up helplessness mixed with a little bit of happiness, hotness, craving for sex and skin contact. I don't know if you have the faintest clue as to what I'm talking about, but I think it's what K.D. Lang calls "Constant Craving" in that song. I get it when I watch lesbian movies with hot sex scenes. As if there's a game of mine sweeper going on in my body. Engulfed by romance. Don't get me wrong: I don't even like Kd Lang, neither do I like to feel mangled. But I've been watching Desert Hearts, that old pre-dyke-revolution movie with big American convertibles and lots of sand. And God, that sex scene hits right home. There's more to it than the sex scene. It's an excellent movie, a good story set in a seductive environment (heat, crooners, casino's, horses and chicks with boots). The movie is based on a book by Jane Rule and the storyline is rather s