Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Powerless To Stop It

I have a confession to make. Not an easy one but one that I need to face, share and maybe try and explain. It started six years ago on a trip to Europe, a fun little flirtation at first, the heart pounding stuff of novels by the time I boarded my flight to return home. I was sure I could just leave it there. Let the memories of those warm nights, salty lips, shared plates of firm, succulent shrimp, feet stomping on a dance floor, my sweat…. thick and swollen with the sweet smell of Brandy, dripping from the tiny hairs at the base of my neck, wriggling between the blades of my shoulders. The dark rooms with those crisp, stiff hotel sheets, the evidence of the night before brought back to me as the steam and stinging darts of hot water bounced off my skin, pulling that scent…that indulgence from my flesh. My breath escaping my chest, my palms pressed against the slippery tiles, neck bent, head plunged beneath the shower head, not sure if I were trying to escape that intoxicating aroma or if I were trying to find the deep end, and jump. 

I thought I could just touch all of that with brief visits alone at night, flipping through my unprinted photo album and content to hide the pink that was crawling up my neck and the smirk that would give me away of it weren’t tucked under my outstretched fingers. Those candlelight-like flickers splashed against my screen, burning just enough to remind me what it felt like to be that…taken. Brief encounters from a distance where it was safe, where I was safe from crumbling beneath the weight of my unquenchable want and complete inability to stop myself. As I buckled myself into my seat for the ten hour flight home I imagined that each hour was a year, putting not only miles but time between us. 

The years ticked along and with each flip of the calendar those flickers, the hunting, came less frequently and while my passion never went away I was able to compartmentalize and compress it, almost as if it were another life….another person. It wasn’t until last year that I started hearing whispers. Not from some cavernous place in my mind that was trying to remind me but from others. I’d shift uncomfortably in my shoes, feel the heat once again creeping up my neck and my throat would tighten. My memories splashing down upon me…my mouth watering, aching to open up and take it all in again but knowing that should I allow myself even the tiniest bit of rope, I would be helpless to stop the woman inside me, the one who’s feet did that stomping and never forgot the painfully sexy taste of those salty lips. She, she would emerge and her tight throated urging would ooze over me like warm honey until did as she pleaded…”Just one more time”

In a moment of buzzy weakness I let that raspy voice dig into my flesh and push me right back into the “something” that started, and I tried desperately to leave behind six years ago. Here I am once again, a slave to the desire that has its teeth buried in my skin, without a plane and thousands of miles to keep us apart and no amount of hot water is going to wash the scent away this time. It’s time to own what I’ve done and to confess…I’m not willing to stop.

It was in the tiny town of Cadiz that my sultry lover first spoke to me and now that doughy and powerful voice is back in my life and, I’m afraid, I’m so deeply in love that I can’t even begin to imagine being apart.....


webb said...

I want what you are having!

Samantha Dugan said...

This began as my weekly Cheese & Wine Pairing for the store website...too much?

Those dry Sherries are not for everyone but for those of us that dig 'em, fucking sexy as hell.

Michele | Cooking At Home said...

Brava, Sam.

Ron Washam, HMW said...

Gorgeous Girl,

When you love a wine, you realllllly love a wine. And they love you back.

Must be nice to taste a Sherry and have those memories of Cadiz flood your senses. I'm the same way with Zinfandel and the glory that is Lodi. Now I'm dying for an Oreo.

Really, My Love, this is nice work.

I love you.

Samantha Dugan said...

Very kind of you to say. Thank you!

Ron My Love,
Lodi Zin and Oreo Cookies, two of my least favorite things on the planet. You on the other's about we meet in the middle over a plate of fried chicken and a glass of Champagne? I love you and am counting the days until I get to wrap my arms around you!

Winey the Elder said...

Ahem, as I was saying....

I can only guess, as I'm no authority, but I doubt that flor has ever been handled better! I know that I'm looking at the sherries on my shelf with new eyes and wistfully wishing to share them with someone who knows that sultry is a verb.

Bless you.

Thomas said...

Welcome back, Sam.

My verification: copemor

If I coped any more I'd be inhuman.

Adam (john deere kid) said...

I love your passion and the seduction you have for that which you have a real passion for!!!

Romes said...

How's about we share some of this passion next week?

Anonymous said...

As Winey said...

You make sultry a verb.

And make me want to find a sherry that makes my eyes close and my body purr.

I've liked them in the past, but haven't fallen in love... yet.

Samantha Dugan said...

Okay, well for those of you that might get the email follow! Ugh. Long 13 hour day and I didn't proof.

Felt that either I owed you one or you inspired that gnawing in my belly that chewed away at me until I freed myself in print. Either way, thank you, this was fun. If you do indeed have a shelf of Sherries it explains, without question, why you were so able to fire off that oyster bit that made all of us girlies...squirm. Understanding it is one thing, being so enamored that you have multiple bottles, that's another. I get it and thank you so much for getting me.

What's up buttercup?! So nice to hear from you and I am simply amazed that one night, over shots...a few shots, and a bottle of crappy Boo Pecoche, (and the real name of that bubbly is Veuve Clicquot) would ignite such a connection. Feel lucky to have met you and cannot wait to get back know I am so hitting you up.

It Is So On

So we have a plan for your next visit then. Many bottles of Sherry, slivers of salty cheese, silky slabs of cured pork and hours of conversation on my couch. Ready when you are and I am so ready to make you fall in love..

Val said...

I had a dream you, I, and the other Sam were opening some bottles. But then the other night I dreamed about cats chasing golf balls. Who knows what that means, but love the alliteration & the thought of Sherry, cheese, nuts, & olives. And I'll be in Spain in a couple months - maybe drinking Sherry, eating Tapas & watching Spanish gatos chasing golf balls...Have a delicious weekend! xo

Samantha Dugan said...

Dude, I am so jealous. I hope you spend a few nights dancing with Brandy scented sweat and come home madly in love...with Sherry of course, (who needs that other headache?!. Can't wait to read the posts!