Sex & Sox

My passions: Sex and the Boston Red Sox!

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Wearing: Pale Yellow jammie pants...

... that have a little martini glass on the left hip with an olive over it. I'm totally slumming today, as usual.

(That's for Ken, my one commenter *swoons!*)

For the last two nights, I've had dreams relating to the Red Sox. Sunday night, I dreamt that I had a son who looked like Theo Epstein... sure, I'd like to let him fuck my brains out (there isn't a woman in Red Sox Nation who would say no to him, and there's probably quite a few men as well), but I don't want a love-child. That was the best part of the dream, since the rest of it involved watching a building burning and people jumping out of the windows and lots of death and mayhem (joy). Monday night, I dreamt that I was at "Fenway", only it wasn't. While it was all green and beautiful, it was the size of a minor league ballpark, without the Green Monster. I was right behind home plate, but disturbingly close -- not even three feet behind the umpire. Manny was up to bat, but there wasn't a pitcher, nor was there anyone on the field; it was just Manny and the umpire.

The umpire took a step to Manny's side and tossed a ball up into the air -- you know, the way you do when you're practicing, tossing a ball up and quickly clenching the bat with both hands for a swing. Only, this ball moved like the ones in cartoons, where they're heart-achingly slow but twisting all over the place, and Manny didn't HIT it. He took a massive swing, knocking the umpire aside with his elbow, and missed the ball. "Fenway" groaned, and Manny started bashing his bat against home plate, screaming obscenities while the baseball continued its slow, twisting descent to the ground.

I stood up and started cheering for him: "Don't worry about it, Manny! Next pitch! You'll get it!" and then chanted, "Mannnnn-nyyyyyy!", getting the entire park to cheer him on with me.

As anticlimatic as it is, nothing happened then besides me waking up.

Waking up, however, reminded me of our exchange when we got into bed...

Last night, we were falling asleep and I snuggled up against my man, then whispered, "Sex." His fingers twitched against my skin and I continued, softly, "Tomorrow. I want to feel your mouth on me, love, I miss it." He pressed a kiss to the back of my head and murmured his agreement.

So today, before he went to work, I reminded him of it. He was standing at the door putting his jacket on, and I walked over, hugging him and brushing my lips over his. "You know, if you come home early tonight, I'll be waiting. I'll be waiting either way, but that'd give us more time..."

"Hun," he said, that big, goofy grin on his face that I love to see, but looking abashed at the same time, "I want to watch that Daily Show special, the one for the election results."

"Oh, me too," I laughed, and he grabbed my ass and pulled me up for another kiss, "But after! You're mine."

I haven't stopped thinking about it since he left. It's going to be a rough (in a delightful, slippery, aching kind of way) day, waiting for tonight.