They made me cut it. They were right. It broke the flow, it didn’t fit–it’s out of character, Annie would never, ever… But here. Enjoy. It’s not so bad, on it’s own.
And if it were possible? If we hadn’t made our choices, closed other doors? What would you do?
—I would seduce you during a walk in the woods. But I would let you think you were seducing me.
Oh, I like how that starts. Spin the story.
—Stories are dangerous.
I don’t care. I’m willing to sin, and sin big, in a story.
…
—We would meet for coffee… No, not like that. I’ve got a workshop downtown I’m doing, and you would text me from your office. You would say, I need to get out of here. Come play hooky with me.
I like that. Big sins start with little sins. Skipping work.
—You have meetings, deadlines. I have that workshop. We slough them off—I grab purse, jacket, make some sort of excuse. Meet you in the parkade.
What are you wearing? An expensive business suit that will soon be covered with green stains?
—Sure… thoroughly inappropriate for a walk in the woods. White, to boot. But you say, when you see me, “Let’s go to Griffith Woods.”
Love GW. When we get to the parking lot, is there a blanket in my trunk?
—No.
A gentleman would bring a blanket.
—You are no gentleman. Also, you have premeditated nothing. This is just a walk. Like that walk in the Devonian Gardens we’re planning.
A walk. In the woods.
—Yes.
I think, in the back of my mind, I have an ulterior motive.
—Perhaps. And in the back of mine, I have secret hopes, fantasies.
Not so secret, anymore. So, we walk? No blanket?
—We walk. Talk about all the usual things. I walk a little ahead of you when the paths narrow. I know I’m posing. Arching. Tensing.
I love it. I take out my phone—every once in a while, I take a picture. Not of the scenery.
—Every once in a while, I trip—accidentally-on-purpose—and clutch at you.
So innocent. Yet so obvious. I’m getting excited. You need to speed up the seduction.
—All I’m doing is creating the opportunity for you to seduce me. But all right. “Let’s rest here.”
Too close to the main path. I take your hand and lead you deeper into the woods.
—My heart pounds.
Mine too. Am I actually going to do this?
—You are. There’s a blown over tree sheltered by Saskatoon bushes. I sit on the stump, look up at you.
I can see it… As I’m not a gentleman, the first thought in my head is to shove my cock into your mouth.
—Christ…
But instead, I stoop down, kneel on the moss beside you.
—You look at me, and all I want is for you to kiss me. The tension…
The tension… There is no air between us, just lust.
—I lean in… I want to kiss you.
I know. I evade your lips and drop between your legs.
—I hear rustling! Someone’s coming!
I don’t care. I haven’t even started…
—Oh!
The reason they made me cut it… is that it’s a near-500 words set-up for this bit (which I’m keeping):
The thing about fantasy—about words on the screen—is that every risk is imaginary. There is only excitement. The other hikers don’t walk in on you, don’t see a white flaccid ass shaking as it thrusts. They come upon the scene at the perfect moment—when she’s come, and he’s come, and her shirt is pulled down and his pants are done up, and maybe they’re disheveled and maybe it looks suspicious—maybe—but that’s hot, and it’s all OK. Everything is OK.
There is no penalty.
There is always a happy ending.
…which, as it turns out, works just fine without the 500-word set-up.
You: You’re not talking about Tell Me here, are you?
Me: No. The new one. Its original teaser is at More! Is There More?
mjc
m jane colette 