Delta
of Venus
Not wanting to complain, but
I slept like crap last night. As a woman of a certain age, I find myself
heating up to the point where I am kicking the blankets off as if I am
preparing for a fight—and perhaps it is a fight—for an occasional good night’s
sleep. Keep reading, it gets better—I stop whining.
Photo by Hariadhi
Thus, the early morning dawn
had me sleeping like a dog after a rough go. Yet I felt something float through
my subconscious—or was that something brushing against my forehead? I tried to
ignore it but the sensation persisted. Was it a moth, a mosquito or the cat’s
whiskers? Often Mr. Spock, my 16 pound Russian Blue will land on the bed with a
thunk in the dark, as he prowls around looking for the very best early morn
sleep spot. He has a tendency to crowd me, pressing his head into mine before
settling his massive gray frame against me.
But my sensory
perception was that this was no cat whisker tickle. The smell was warm and
fresh and had a hint of natural shave cream. Unless Mr. Spock had taken up new
habits in the bathroom?
Sensory perceptions are of
great interest to me, hence why I wrote a book about food, erotica and the
sensations one can experience with the simplest of tools, Just Keep Your
Panties On: A Playful Book about Food and Erotica for the Bedside Table (available for
acquisition). In my case, love, lust, juicy
passion, the outdoors and food co-mingle to bring me to heights of ecstasy. I
look for these opportunities every day and sometimes in the strangest of
places. But that’s another blog when you know me a bit better. Wait for it. But
you can go to my Facebook page and LOVE it.
As for the mere hint of a
touch? It was my beloved, placing ever-so-light butterfly kisses across my face
before he departed for his morning beach salutations and workout. He knows I am
likely awake and that I am refusing to be awake by covering my face with a
sheet to ward off the insistent light of the Eastern sky. He also
knows that I cannot resist the softness of these sweet nothings as he places
them ever-so-gently on my skin. It is a familiar scene for him as I pretend to
be asleep for as long as I can to prolong the pleasure of this most reverent of
acts.
Feather kisses. Try them tomorrow.
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