there's only so much you can hide on a busy street in brooklyn. you'd think that being inside a car with the windows fogged up from the rain and body heat would help, but despite my best efforts, i felt like i was back in my stripper days, pressed up against the inside of the windshield glass. on view, on display.
i thought i'd let go of shame. i don't struggle as much these days with what you demand of me. i belong to you, and i'm yours to toy with and do with what you will, so it's irrelevant, shame. it doesn't change the demand. it doesn't change that what i agree to, what i like or don't like or want or don't want - doesn't matter.
you told me that, when you stripped my private pleasures away.
you told me that, when i asked you to stop.
you told me that, as i laid my head down on the dashboard while you fucked me in the car, trying to hide my face from the passers-by on a busy street in brooklyn.
3 comments:
i LOVE the visual you paint with your words...can actually see the people on the street...some interested, some smirking, some shocked...HOT!
A very powerful post, and wonderfully written, showing great depth of emotion and sadness. Thanks for that.
@mj's: thank you very much. yeah, it was one of those moments that started as one thing and ended up as something much deeper than i expected.
@swordfish: thank you - yes, that nails what it was about i think, ultimately.
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