Wednesday, 28 March 2007

Burden in his hand.

 Words you say never seem
    To live up to the ones inside your head
    The lives we make never seem
    To ever get us anywhere but dead

I'll defer to the biggest Soundgarden fan in this house for today's musical inspiration, his delight at a lapdance with The Day I tried to Live as accompaniment faring nicely for me last night because, okay, I was doable. When am I not doable?

Shortest lap dance in the history of the universe. I climbed onto his legs in his chair to face him while he was on the phone, and he wrapped up his call at once and pulled me down right into his lap and that was that. No wind up, no grind out, just straight-up sex in his lap.

He's a very strong man.

Who knows what he wants. And waiting was not something he wanted to do last night. And so he didn't.

And the next office chair I buy will not be on wheels.

The visual on being that out of control and the chair tipping over but tipping forward meant I bore the full brunt of Jacob's weight as he fought to cradle me with one hand and break our fall with the other, failing at both when he landed on top of me and he knocked the wind right out of me, along with a few assorted internal organs, and I think he might have displaced my whole uterus but I was laughing and crying and Chris Cornell was howling and it really wasn't a very pretty sight at all.

Kind of a mood-killer when you have to take stock of what hurts before you get up. The look on his face was half-hilarity and half-concern because he's still fourteen inches taller than I am as much as we try to ignore that fact. I managed to stand up and breathe at the same time.

First thing out of his mouth?

We should stick to the bed for that kind of thing.

While I was saying,

We need a chair without wheels.

We looked at each other and nodded at the same time.

And then finished the night in the middle of our bed, where no one can get hurt.

I want to write very much anyway. But I didn't. Oh, I did. Nevermind, another story for some other day.

I still think an x-ray or two might be a good idea. I have aches in strange places this morning.

The thought of attempting to explain to my doctor exactly how much torque Jacob is capable of putting into sex just does nothing for me today. I'm just going to breathe through it and take some more ibuprophen.