In Taffy's Closet
June 7th 2006 13:08
Secrecy can be a fun thing. It’s like, say, letting your partner blindfold you. Familiar sensations can seem new and exciting, there’s an element of surprise, and hey, vulnerability and all the danger it entails adds a bit of spice to lots of people’s sex lives. But then, there are moments when you just want to look into your lover’s eyes in the clear light of day and not feel like you’re stuck creeping the shadows.
Being Taffy’s secret lover was fun for a little while. It’s like a naughty sleepover, when you stay up til midnight and steal condensed milk out of the fridge and it all tastes so much better because it’s late and forbidden and everything is scary and hilarious all at once. Like watching Taffy squirm and trying to keep quiet, which she’s so bad at by the way.
It’s less fun in the morning, when you’re feeling kind of groggy from lack of sleep, and a bit queasy from the condensed milk or chocolate butter or sugar lube or whatever else you’ve been imbibing the night before. We couldn't even sit side-by-side on the couch and watch a movie comfortably, maybe with our hands brushing against each other discreetly behind a cushion, without Taffy jumping a mile and looking amazingly suspicious every time someone walked past the doorway. And then suddenly I was joining in the paranoia, and when her father glanced in and I met his eyes it was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. Even though he was a lovely person and seemed to like me better than most of the other boys she used to date- probably because he thinks there’s less chance of me dragging her into an alleyway and raping her, and even though we weren’t doing anything wrong at that particular moment. It just didn't feel right.
Secrecy is fun when it’s a surprise birthday present or something. Being someone’s guilty little secret isn’t so much. But I guess if you love someone you live with it. And after all, she told everyone at work. It’s always the people closest to us who seem to be the last to know.
Being Taffy’s secret lover was fun for a little while. It’s like a naughty sleepover, when you stay up til midnight and steal condensed milk out of the fridge and it all tastes so much better because it’s late and forbidden and everything is scary and hilarious all at once. Like watching Taffy squirm and trying to keep quiet, which she’s so bad at by the way.
It’s less fun in the morning, when you’re feeling kind of groggy from lack of sleep, and a bit queasy from the condensed milk or chocolate butter or sugar lube or whatever else you’ve been imbibing the night before. We couldn't even sit side-by-side on the couch and watch a movie comfortably, maybe with our hands brushing against each other discreetly behind a cushion, without Taffy jumping a mile and looking amazingly suspicious every time someone walked past the doorway. And then suddenly I was joining in the paranoia, and when her father glanced in and I met his eyes it was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. Even though he was a lovely person and seemed to like me better than most of the other boys she used to date- probably because he thinks there’s less chance of me dragging her into an alleyway and raping her, and even though we weren’t doing anything wrong at that particular moment. It just didn't feel right.
Secrecy is fun when it’s a surprise birthday present or something. Being someone’s guilty little secret isn’t so much. But I guess if you love someone you live with it. And after all, she told everyone at work. It’s always the people closest to us who seem to be the last to know.
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