On my second round, I had a toe-curling moment by myself…in a plaza. I assumed the shadows were on my side until my post-orgasm gaze darted to a lanky man in uniform from afar. I was in denial. I still went on then slowly covered my exposed breasts and sat up. Turns out I have my communication theory books as company! I reached for them and started to read. But my mind’s elsewhere.
The approaching footsteps belonged to two men in uniform. The smaller guy, the one who did NOT witness my tiny performance, initiated the confrontation. He asked what I was doing in a very gentle voice. I was shocked to realize they were Filipinos. The backdrop seemed very European and they looked Chinese. I feigned innocence, pressing them to name my violation. I can’t recall their exact responses but their choice of Tagalog words were very uncommon. In short, they were too nice to appear menacing and too forgiving to arrest me. Were they entertained? I wouldn’t know.
Obviously, this dream demonstrates how sex-starved I am. I’m not denying that. I must also admit I’ve had recent heartbreaks (yep, plural!) to add to his mounting frustration. Am I trying to move on? Honestly, no.
That afternoon, I found myself reading “The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty” in spite of the brownout. I’m in heat, in more ways than one.