I promise you
I will treat you well
My sweet angel
So help me, Jesus
I'll admit, watching Jacob walk around the house with Possum Kingdom stuck in his head, singing such sinister lyrics kind of has me liking today. I'll blame Guitar Hero. Or maybe I'll thank it. He is so sexy.
This morning I was woken up at two a.m. and he said listen. It was raining. He went and opened the window all the way up and we sat wrapped in a sheet together in the dark moonless night and listened to the drops fall through the tree branches and watched the curtains billow up like smoke coiling from a just blown out candle. It was magical. I couldn't fall asleep once the rain ebbed a little and I didn't have to, instead choosing to succumb to Jake's strong arms and insistent mouth, as he pushed me back down and pulled my hips up effortlessly into his lap and eventually I drowned out the rain with the sound of our ragged breathing filling my ears. It's very hard to catch your breath when you're upside-down.
In any event, we are doing nothing today. Nothing including pouring out the rest of Thursday nights' Stoli. Rather wasteful if you ask me but no one did so there you go.
I promised him a long walk this afternoon and he has promised a roaring fire and some cake tonight. And in between there will be some kite-flying and grocery shopping and not listening to people who tell me I am corrupting him after all. Jealousy does funny things to my friends. They turn into jerks.
And I haven't corrupted him. No sir, not me. Fragile Miss Bridget wouldn't hurt a fly. So says the gentle giant, who might, but not on purpose.
