One Big Wet Dream

One Big Wet Dream
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom

One Big Wet Dream

Oui ("way"), que peux-je dire de Stephanie ?

Well, perhaps, peut-être, the most memorable part of our intermittent conversation that evening was when she felt compelled to tell me, "I just want you to know, that I'm engaged." And she said it in a way that sounded more like she was protecting herself from herself, rather than me; in a manner that was more of a reminder to behave than as any sort of cross-bearing gesture against the hungry lecher.

I gave her a knowing smirk in response and professed, “Hmmm, that's interesting," insinuating, if not inciting, more of the same. I went on to explain that simply because she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman and I wanted to take more photos of her—did not mean I wanted to make mad love with her. "Well, I do," I added, "But I really would love to take pictures of you as well."

And that's the rated PG version of what I really said. After all, she's French, I'm an ugly and blunt American, and so I figured she could handle the truth. She laughed, and acknowledged that any typically "American" prudence was unnecessary, and essentially—a turn-off.

She also agreed to give my photos a look online, if only because she thought I was "crazy." I suspect that this is a promising sign.

The second most interesting point in our conversation happened earlier in the evening when she told me about how she might be directing a play soon.

She was partial to The Bard, and so I prodded her with my curiosity, butting her gently, piquing her in just the right way, so that she might get over her fear that I was just another bothersome wolf in a cheap costume.

Eventually, she divulged how her favorite Shakespeare play was, "How do you call it in English...a summer dream.." "Midsummer Night's Dream," I offered." "Yes, that's it."

She went on to explain how she essentially found it to be one big wet dream; a subtle and not-so-subtle orgy of words and inferences and people being amorous people.

At one point she suddenly broke loose of her reticent demeanor and smiled widely, stating with great fervor, "You'd be a great Faunas! Yes! You'd be perfect!"

At this point, I admitted that I wasn't familiar with this character, because I'd yet to read the play, but that I was quite eager to do so now, and so I begged her to tell me more.

"You know the one with the elfins...", which she pronounced “Elle,” as in the L-word, “fanhhh.”
"Ohhhh, fairies. Yes, you mean Pan, half-man, half-goat, the catalyst of lust and debauchery. Music man for the all forest nymphs and playful river sprites..."
"Yes, that's him!"

I suspected that apart from the mischief and make-shift pandering, the fact that I had come dressed as an “avid adventurer,” replete with a mud-crusted chin, and wind-swept hair that was adorned with the seasonal tidings of fall leaves, also inspired her élan and exuberant association.

Moreover, she also told me she was likewise dressed as an adventurer of sorts herself, a
sexual adventurer that is, a certain special lady of the night—Miss Madame X, the all-powerful and all-knowing dominatrix.

Hence, naturally, I made sure to butt her with my horns a few times, and then declared with a drunken slur, "And now for something utterly spontaneous! Because I can tell that you're the kind of person that loves surprises and whims and people who indulge them," which was my way of saying that she I thought she was somewhat of an emotionally-repressed artist.

Then I wrapped my arms around her, gave her a squeeze and a long drawn out kiss on the cheek.

She smiled, she laughed.

And I walked away.