101 Get-a-'bout alley...

Dissertation lugs, drags and rolls

...a miscellaneous array into my apt with every visit., Food, DVDs, Booze, Oil, Shampoo, and so forth. More to that, there is a pattern to her visits:
A call when at the building entrance,
3-4 bags or packs of effects (I carry, puzzled),
a kiss,
a scramble into nakedness,
a moan,
a compliment,
a tissue,
a vodka drink,
a rant (roommates, work, politics)
sleep,
waking up with nausea,
a slow morning into recovery,
a shower,
and a pack up off all the items she spread around the night before.

Last visit she brought lumber, short studs with a board, screws and brackets, “you got a drill, right? I need a shelf, the animals are nesting in my books.” I played the lazy bastard card, but she left it anyway. After 4 days pass I get the itch for her, but not wanting to call (dissertation due, she’s studying) I put the energy in. Once the brackets are in place, I sense a wobble in the legs. No biggie, just a small shelf. But then I decide that when some guy goes to break this down for firewood in 25 years or so, he’s gonna’ feel me. I sink screws in every angle, the legs are as stiff as a flagpole on Christmas day. I imagine him, cold in the city dump, kicking it, “ …#!%#@!ing legs are screwed in six times, what OCD mother-*#4%er put this thing together….”
Well, her plan worked.

doorway in blue

Packing was easy, the duffels were never completely emptied. Did I tell you that I haven’t unloaded my shaving kit in three years? The only item change that has taken place in its pockets is the addition of nail clippers. TSA has allowed the abused grooming device back into their list as acceptables without castration of the attached nail file.

Dissertation came over to get in a goodbye before my decampment. She was winding down after running her cycling class. When I opened the door to the building to let her in a Studio Security Guard was calling out something to her about parking. Not making it out I asked her what it was about. She waved it off as nothing. But she knows I remained suspicious as I’ve witnessed her Punk Grrl temperament lash out at uniforms in the past. She has been informed it’s welcome behavior everywhere except in vicinity of my apartment or car.

I attempted to make her a screwdriver, I offered her some cheese, I tried to give her the book she had been asking for…..all was met with pawing and purring. Cute, yes, but not in my kitchenette, no room for play. I turned my focus and rearranged the steps. I grabbed her with an “alright…” and pushed her onto the bed. She curled and then kicked at me, which both of us found funny as her foot struck me and sent her sliding across the comforter. Dissertation must weigh about 90 pounds.
Knowing where all of it was leading I stretched her like a board across the bed and peeled her shirt over her head. Then managed to get my hand round one of her wrists. She clamped her legs together in a teasing attempt to hold on to her jeans. With a couple of harder tugs they were off. She had been economical that day and skipped underwear. Keeping her flat I put my weight against her and began to tune her up, not necessary, but still enjoyable. Then, holding her wrists above her head, her face to the mattress, I stretched her out, moved her legs together with mine, and moved into her. Her breathing clenched, she let out some baby grunts and then inhaled pulling soft hair into her mouth. I stroked it away. I’m a sucker for a bob, and that short two-color cut of hers is adorable. Her locks feel like my own at age 7, when I’d be fresh outta’the tub with the Johnson & Johnson Baby Shampoo treatment my grandmother would give me.

Dissertation broke the hot water and we moved into other regions of the bed. We decided to grab a bite at Swingers on Beverly. When I handed her her jeans they were patched in the crotch with what was released before I got ‘em off. Thankful that bald guys like me always keep hairdryers around for occasions like these, she stood porky-pigging it in my bathroom, smiling, moving the dryer over denim.