I love love love this time of
year. The air is so cool you can practically drink it. The bright
sunshine contrasted against the deep blue sky highlights the beauty of the
changing colours. The nights draw in, and the smell of autumn dominates, covering
the London smog. The misty fog rolls across the fields as we yawn our way into
the city.
The current trend for luxe,
baroque and Trans-Siberian fashion fill my head with Anna Karenina-esque
fantasies of pre-Bolshevik Russia and gentlemen. Nights spent dancing and
quaffing champanskiy, wandering along Nevsky Prospekt with my current squeeze.
Granted shagging in the doorway of the Winter Palace isn't exactly historically
accurate, not to mention somewhat difficult in those meringue dresses but hey
it's my fantasy. And my boobs would look epic in one of those corsets.
Back to contemporary
London. The bright lights of the city shine. We are bathed in their glow,
basking in the exciting night-life Hollywood feel. It's getting cooler,
so we wrap up snug and warm with the breeze on our faces. We feel the
excitement of the seasons changing, from the heady summer hedonism to the
tingle of autumn and the promise it holds. Birthdays, Halloween, guy Fawkes
night, festive festivities and the exploding butterflies as your summer suitor
becomes more than that. You go on dates, the spark ignited by him taking your
hand and you feel a pull down there. Or you go online dating and find
that actually, there could be something in this. The new York, sex and the
city-savvy men ARE out there, waiting to sweep you off their feet with their
dazzling dancing, intimate intellectual interests, and ability to blow your
mind in every sense. It whispers promise as his cool whisper curls around your
eardrum, setting off a sensuous shiver down your spine as somehow his words
translate to a siren call to your clit. You pulse at the thought of him, and
your emotions pulse too.
There is something oh so
exciting about this time of year. The days get shorter but the nights, oooooh
those nights get longer. Which is great – except when I want to hibernate…I
like my sleep. I don't like it interrupted. Once the party is over, and the
wild child has stumbled back under her stale-smoke smelling rock ready to snore
herself into oblivious stupor, I like my space. My privacy and my bed to
myself. So how do you turn a sweaty sleep under a super-high tog duvet
into a seduction scene worthy of Sharon Stone?
Alas (used purely for
literary purposes and without a hint of regret) I had no summer suitor. Thus, I
have no potential honey to spoon and shag by the fire, radiating smug warmth
and inner contentment. Suits me - more money for my Christmas present to
myself. But I do want some pleasure - as a lapsed hedonist, I need it. So
I'm enlisting the help of old faithful - Santa. Last year I thanked
His Royal Awesomeness for my peace. This year I am asking him for one night of
pure pleasure. I don't want a boyf, nor a relationship with emotional
investment, but I want this.
The adult and humanitarian in
me recognises one fundamental fact. Its Not fair to hook up with and get
close to someone, just to stop it before it goes too far and it actually looks
like a relationship emerging from the haze of new year. January to may is a
very long time and, if the last 10 years have taught me anything, it's that
this is when I'm most likely to need a man. But also most likely to get
bored with my current squeeze and start planning summer adventures and
minxiness. I've been 'informed' that I have been damaged by my precious
relationship. I have also been 'informed' that I am a modern feminist taking a
stand and bucking the trend of settling (THAT was a fun debate held over my
head). Perhaps I am both. Perhaps I am neither. But I honestly
think I'm just not designed to be in a partnership. Or the guys I date don't
really understand the concept of partnership. Anywho....
Dear Santa, I am writing
early because mummy taught me to plan ahead and be organised. Plus my wish is a
little more complicated than a barbie or a house,a brother and a dad.
This year I would like a night of perfect sex, with a stunningly
sculptured selfless and skilled lover, who will take me to kingdom come -
repeatedly. I want it on the perfect night, when I'm not so cold as to be
hibernating, nor too warm to feel uncomfortable. I want the stamina and
the sex drive to satiate me, until I can take no more.
And in return, I promise to
be a good girl and not get so drunk at the office Christmas do that I wake up
next to the tubby twat from finance, with broken memories of playing strip
poker and dancing on the bar/table/CEO's lap.
And I'll leave you an extra
mince pie and carrot for Rudolph too.
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