Captain-Rilee

When am I going to find the guy? You know? The one we always talk about, think about, dream about. I mean, not in the: "What the hell-I'm entitled-bring him to me NOW!" I'm just wondering…intrigued really. I mean, am I really ready? Is anyone ever really ready? I know the shit that's gone down on my end. What about his end? It just kind of got me thinking tonight. How the hell does anyone really do it in the first place? Spend the rest of their life with someone, just that one! Well, not that I'm saying that there should be more than one. I'm all for monogamy, but forever with all the same craziness? Good and bad? Your demons,

It was dark but she wasn't frightened. It roused her skin in anticipation. Her thoughts flew through scenarios of every kind, some more appropriate others less so. Her resistance was gone. Her fingers found the tie of her dressing gown and it slipped from the curve of her shoulders. The moon dove in through the open window and danced over her skin. She spared no thoughts to the warmth of Day. Instead she embraced the cool caress of the Night against her skin. Listening intently to the whispers it sang into her ear. She closed her eyes and welcomed her furtive fantasies. Ignoring all else, she lost herself to the exquisite sensations.

One. I should probably stop and poke around, get some ideas. It's an important investment after all. Nah. I'll stop by later I have things to do. Two. You don't have to go in. Looking at the display is perfectly acceptable. But what if there's something perfect inside? I'd never know and I might end up with the wrong thing! After my third pass by the window display I finally threw up my hands and simply walked through the door of the shop. It's just a store. I don't have to buy anything. It's only jewelry. I'm no coward. But the second the cool air-conditioning hit my skin and the polished, smiling salesman glanced my way, my courage q

I don't like confrontation. Wait scratch that, I don't just NOT like confrontation. I loathe it with the utmost passion of my being. Yet here I stand at his front door ready to knock, fling myself into his arms and ride off into the sunset. If only I could knock. I raise my hand, once...twice...but each time my hand falters, shaking slightly, and I pull it away and take a deep breath, trying to steady my resolve. Thank God no one is walking past; I've already been here for 10 minutes. And no I'm not joking. What the hell am I doing? I walked all the way over here and this is all I have to say for myself? My annoyance (trust me when I

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend.” he asked, grinning ear to ear. Cocky. Now that I look back on it. Definitely cocky, he already knew my answer. Why wouldn’t he? I grinned and turned to face him, someone was actually taking notice of me. “You know, I’d like that very much.” That night we went out. I picked him up. He had no car or even a driver’s license. Technically I shouldn’t have even been driving him-my six months weren’t up yet. I did anyway. Our banter changed. Actually it didn’t just change, it was nonexistent. We didn’t really talk at all. Just kind o

“If you were smart you would stay away from me…” She slammed her tray down on the table almost losing it completely. She rounded on him, her eyes narrow and defiant. “So I’m either stupid or friendless?” she retorted, “That doesn’t seem quiet fair .” He grinned at her. “All’s fair in lo-” he stuttered to a halt, his easy smile gone as quickly as it had come. She stopped dead. A wicked smile slowly, so slowly, overtook her face. His face was stony and unreadable. He had said too much. He turned to go but stopped at her words. “Say it.” she challenged. “Out loud.&

*Ring-Ring* “Hello?” “Where’s mom?” “I’m fine thanks for asking.” “Can I talk to mom?” “Why?” “Because I need to talk to her.” “She’s not home, she’s running errands.” “Why are you wasting my time asking superfluous questions when mom isn’t even home!?” “Why are YOU wasting YOUR time asking me why I’m asking you superfluous questions about why you need to talk to mom?” “…bite me.” *click* *snickers*

I am plagued by the vague urge to pounce him and ravish him until he sees stars...but that certainly doesn't mean we can't be friends.

His fingers trailed along her arm, those soft barely there touches that teased her into insanity and back again. They stood leaning against the railing, her hair traipsing across her face to cloud her eyes. She pushed away from the railing and crossed her arms. “Stop.” His head snapped upright. The liquid dominance in her voice was vulgar and knocked his ears painfully. But instead of beating him into submission, it only provoked him further. “Excuse me?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice soft, but the sharp insulted sting was there. “Please don’t touch me like that.” He eyed her incredulously.