To a blind solicitation from a woman who thought she would impress me with her overt sexuality, she even gave herself a mighty presumptuous pen name. Don't worry, she's not here, and I'm not betraying her, I won't print her letter, but she pissed me off.
-
I would very much like to see what this new Zelda Fitzgerald that you claim to be looks like. Being the more traditionally visual of the genders and in the interest of an egalitarian exchange it seems only fair, non? You write decently eough, I wonder what it is that you do... I don't necessarily want to know just yet, I am happy for now, contented rather, in the slight mystery that spans the gap between your reality and my imagination.
I do know full well and quite intimately the relationship you're seeking. In fact, I've sought it out myself and had it a few times, well, until someone breaks the agreement and falls prey to jealousy or the natural possessive tendencies of the more sexually naive American culture. I say someone to be kind, but as a matter of fact it has yet to be me.
Sounds to me that you want a boy-toy with a forked tongue, a wicked mind, and a genuine heart. A man who can wrap you as tightly and with as much affect with his words, his mind, his very manner, as will come from his hands his arms his V shaped surfers back, his lengthy stretched and sun-darkened frame. And my god my dear you should have such a thing, such a man, such a beast to take to your fiery hearth and laugh with you at your breakfast table. To fully appreciate, nay love as only one who fears the loss of so sweet a candy, the taste of your flesh. A one who will drink at your stream, the nectar of a brilliant and accomplished demi-goddess. A boy, who will fill you up, and offer no mercy to your needful body, but thrust himself against and inside you in an abandon of all things civilized, all things decent, a man who for the time it takes to unfurl your sails entirely will rage at your body, your vessel your beautiful V, and when those sails do set and
you cry out the name of whatever god you see fit to believe in that day, that boy, that massive tireless trunk of a boy will explode with eyes painfully closed and the primal scream of a one who is marching to the gates of Troy to reclaim his beautiful Helen or receive his beautiful death.
You should have that boy, and when you find him, tell me how he was, because I ain't him.
Oh, You're a good one alright kid, but you're no Zelda-
don't write me again-
-A
-
I would very much like to see what this new Zelda Fitzgerald that you claim to be looks like. Being the more traditionally visual of the genders and in the interest of an egalitarian exchange it seems only fair, non? You write decently eough, I wonder what it is that you do... I don't necessarily want to know just yet, I am happy for now, contented rather, in the slight mystery that spans the gap between your reality and my imagination.
I do know full well and quite intimately the relationship you're seeking. In fact, I've sought it out myself and had it a few times, well, until someone breaks the agreement and falls prey to jealousy or the natural possessive tendencies of the more sexually naive American culture. I say someone to be kind, but as a matter of fact it has yet to be me.
Sounds to me that you want a boy-toy with a forked tongue, a wicked mind, and a genuine heart. A man who can wrap you as tightly and with as much affect with his words, his mind, his very manner, as will come from his hands his arms his V shaped surfers back, his lengthy stretched and sun-darkened frame. And my god my dear you should have such a thing, such a man, such a beast to take to your fiery hearth and laugh with you at your breakfast table. To fully appreciate, nay love as only one who fears the loss of so sweet a candy, the taste of your flesh. A one who will drink at your stream, the nectar of a brilliant and accomplished demi-goddess. A boy, who will fill you up, and offer no mercy to your needful body, but thrust himself against and inside you in an abandon of all things civilized, all things decent, a man who for the time it takes to unfurl your sails entirely will rage at your body, your vessel your beautiful V, and when those sails do set and
you cry out the name of whatever god you see fit to believe in that day, that boy, that massive tireless trunk of a boy will explode with eyes painfully closed and the primal scream of a one who is marching to the gates of Troy to reclaim his beautiful Helen or receive his beautiful death.
You should have that boy, and when you find him, tell me how he was, because I ain't him.
Oh, You're a good one alright kid, but you're no Zelda-
don't write me again-
-A
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
word.
I got all of it from what you wrote. I could feel the implication in your words. In my head it all took place in the 20's because as she said, she the new Zelda.