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Stumbling
Wednesday, January 02, 2008

"So, Deanna . . , what's in the package?" my father queried.  He always queries.  "It feels almost as if there's nothing in there."

"Ummmmmmmm," I fail even before I start.  I look around wildly.  "Well, it is really light."

He starts to laugh at my stuttering, at my loss of words or even reasonable excuses.  But what he's thinking of is actually more convincing than the truth.

Because how can I tell him that inside that light package lies an exquisite and gorgeous mask that I will use to seduce a lover?

That I will meet this man at the door, breathless with lust and resplendent with glittering anonymity, draw him into the candlelit apartment, into my arms, my embrace, my mouth, my depths?

No, Father, I cannot say this and for now I can share a laugh with you at the shame I don't possess.


Posted at 11:11 pm by Deanna.

Christy
January 7, 2008   11:54 PM PST
 
if he only knew hehe
Parisian15
January 3, 2008   05:03 PM PST
 
Cute :)


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