Today's Confession is a tad rated R, just saying.
I'll call him STARDUST .
Stardust worked for me as a designer for a few of my shows. I also got him hooked up as a fellow DJ where he spun Jazz records. He was also in the October zone (you'll have to go back to previous posts, if you haven't been keeping up to what that means. I think it was October 7). He always had an adventure planned-- and often times what we did was tresspassing. I would skip school on a beautiful autumn day to have a picnic after exploring a quarry, hike Yellowwood, climb Cedar Bluff, walk Sycamore Landtrust, traipse through the Sculpture Gardens in Solisbury. And in all of these places we had steamy sex. It was exhilarating and exciting, knowing that someone could come along any second and catch us. We didn't care.
One time he was on air and I came over to the studio wearing only a trench coat. He found a long song to play on air and, well, you know. Sex.
STARDUST showed me what sex was supposed to be like.
He was the one who left me stranded in the D.C. Museum with my baggage locked in a locker. He was manipulative and cruel to me--but the sex was well... too bad you can't get equal parts good sex and good, kind person.
Occasionally I will get a post card from STARDUST from Germany or some far away place he is visiting. Or an email will land in my inbox wishing me happy birthday signed:
OLIVE JUICE (If you mouth the words it looks like I Love You.
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