The Contingency Plan

the butterfly catcher
 
josh emailed me today.
 
every time he does it makes my jaw clench, a rush of blood floods through my arms and chest, my nipples harden and i feel like smoking, like locking my doors, making my hair wild and dancing naked in the dark.
 
he can make me do wrong.
 
and i want to forget.
 
when we first met i underestimated the small feelings i kept finding under my fingernails, in my hair, my bellybutton and the small of my back. he was unexpected. he has horrendous dress sense. and despite my occassional efforts to stay clean, he claimed my flutters, half beats and sighs.

oh yes, pr and journalism do have a bitter sweet relationship.
 
ours lasted intensely for six months. i was the one whose attitude infuriated and intrigued him, who tied him up, had sex in the park, talked dirty while she was around and liked to be bitten. i didn't want him full time. dessert is always sweeter and this increased his appetite. 
 
but i discovered he'd seeped in. i fell in love but never asked him to leave her. i knew he wouldn't. i'd already left lucas before i started to graze.  i had silently lost, knew i would from the start and felt out of breath.

even after i washed myself free he'd still write. he wanted to keep in touch and occasionally indulge fantasies. i nonchalantly didn't let him. i know he still would now, even though it ended such a long time ago.

so today i told him about wolfie, about utter happiness with lucas and he said he still misses me.

and wants to meet up next week.