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The conference was extended at the last minute. I was almost on the plane when I heard. Luckily, the hotel still had my room available. To celebrate, a group of us planned an evening at a five-star restaurant. A gorgeous blonde that I eyed during the conference invited me. She was dressed in a black evening dress. I knew that I had put on something better than jeans and my latest Hawaiian shirt.
The noisy sex monkeys lurk in all of us. They chatter, hoot, and grunt when we least expect it. But when they do, it is the herald song of great sex. The irony of the noisy sex monkeys is that they are never heard by the coital couple during their activities. It is only after the last gasp has subsided and the heart returns to regular rhythms that the faint echoes of the noisy sex monkeys are even recalled. Then it sinks in. “Oh my God! Was that us? I wonder if the neighbors heard?” The answer is that the neighbors listened intently to every high decibel note sung by the noisy sex monkeys, and coincidentally they sound just like you and yours.
This hasn’t happened since Blaze. Then again, I haven’t been to a strip bar since living in SoCal. Blaze was leggy redhead that new how to whip her body around and use her lanky legs to tie me up. We had conversations while she lapped danced for me. To spend a little extra time at our table, she would suck on the ice of her drink. My friend and I would visit the club about once every other month. I became very acquainted with Blaze. I even was goofy enough for her to produce a couple poems and paintings. Gadd, I am an idiot. And now there is Sky.
I don’t usually remember my dreams. They just seem to spin through my head, sort out the day’s data, and evaporate like morning dew. If I want to recall my cartoons of slumber, I have to wake immediately after the dream and transcribe the hole thing. Like hell, if I am going to ruin a perfectly good nights slumber to write down something that bores most people.
A week from tonight Dita will be performing at the Showbox. Better yet, it will be a guys night out. Personally, I would go even without the pleasure of anyone’s company. The fantasy would be me and Dita and an empty theater, but hey reality beckons. I will be one of several hundred people in an auditorium. I’ll just have to get decent photos of the whole event. More about this event next Saturday.