Experience,  Poetry

Sex in the Alcove

Heels clicking erratically
on the cold, uneven sidewalk,

you guided me
-our arms linked-
towards the next bar.

Passing the recessed entryway
to the Department of
Health and Human Services,

I suggested, jokingly,
that we fuck
beneath the flickering naked bulb
in the alcove.

I giggled, girlishly–
a tease.
But, you pushed me
the glowing grotto.

I wriggled out of your grasp,
and we moved on.

Every time I pass that
enclosed entrance,
I am reminded
of the possibility.

The Wicked Wednesday prompt this week was “?+?=?”.  My interpretation is “Alcohol + Desire = Stupid Sexual Suggestions”.  Seriously, I’ve said it before, I live in one of those communities and have one of those jobs where every public thing I do is under scrutiny.  I can only imagine the scandal that would blossom if I were to be arrested for public indecency.  And even though I really am too chicken to have sex in a public place, the allure of the possibility of being caught exists in the back of my psyche.

This is also a continuation of the TMI Tuesday Bonus Question:  “Tell us about a time you were tempted.  Did you give in or resist?”  As you can see, I resisted.  But, I smile every time I pass that alcove, even though it looks suspiciously like has often been used as a prime choice for drunken urination.  Ew.  Noticing that not only usually wipes the dirty little smile off my face, but it also makes me glad that I didn’t ever press my naked ass up against that cold, metal door.  Some things are better left to the imagination.


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