July 25th,
Good to see you haven't lost your touch, Faireborn.
It's very early in the morning. The sun hasn't come up yet and in the distance wolves can be heard howling at he night sky. I awoke with a start a couple of minutes ago, my heart racing from that disquieting disorientation you get when you are awake enough to be aware of your surroundings, but not yet fully able to process where it is that you are.
Allie's warm, slumbering form is beside me, curled up comfortably on her side. She must be cold, as she is nestled up close to me, her head resting on my chest. I have to smile as I reach down to touch her gently, my thoughts turning to the events of last night as I run my hands through her soft brown hair.
I suppose I should mention that Jaye and I are lovers, although if you haven't yet inferred it from my previous entries I would be surprised. We have maintained a relationship for a good three years now, and though it has had its moments, for the most part we have remained true to each other throughout.
Sharing intimacies with this woman is an experience, and there has never been a time that I have been with her and not come away with a satisfied grin on my face. The feeling is mutual of that I am sure, even if she is loath to admit it for fear of stoking my already inflated ego. She needn't say a word, however. I can tell.
From every sound, every movement, every touch, I can tell.
I am very good at what I do. Hey…why beat around the bush? I am a great lover. Always have been. I know exactly what to do and when to do it. I can read a woman's body language and adjust my approach accordingly to fit her needs. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' type of guy. To me, a great deal of the satisfaction of sex comes from knowing you have made your partner feel the same pleasure that you have.
Just call me Don Juan Faireborn.
I needn't add that my skill is a point of pride. As the people who know me well can attest, I never boast about something I cannot backup.
Yes, I have had many lovers…and I can see where someone looking in from the outside would interpret the steady stream of women flowing in and out of my life as a sign of a shallow, selfish nature.
Maybe it is.
To be honest, a good deal of my adult life revolved around collecting beautiful women and wooing them to my bed. Does that make me a womanizer? I would be lying if I said I have never broken any hearts. I would be lying if I said I have never been in over my head and ended up hurting someone in the process of trying to extricate myself from a relationship gone sour. I would definitely be lying if I said I have never been hurt myself.
If I told you that I never led any of them to believe that the relationship was anything other than a short term fling…that I made it very clear from the get-go that they shouldn't expect any commitment from me…would that show me in a better light?
Probably not.
I could say that I was young and stupid, that this was the hot fire of youth, quickly extinguished by the experience and wisdom that come with age…with the satisfaction of finally finding the 'right' girl to settle down with and raise a family. Only I tried that once…to say that it didn't work would be the understatement of the millennium.
Not to mention I was still at it when I met Lady Jaye, and in a way some part of me continues even now…refusing to commit despite the inordinate amount of time this relationship has gone on…refusing to believe that I am finally content.
No…I am not cheating on her. I would NEVER do that.
Ever.
I have known the pain and hurt that comes when someone you love and trust has an affair…the heart-rending sadness caused by the most agonizing of betrayals. No apology can mend the wound. No excuse can possibly justify the duplicity.
Blaise Pascal once wrote that 'time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselves'. I tend to agree with this assessment. Time has dulled the pain, but more because the incident has changed me on some fundamental level than the slow and steady passing of the years.
I am no longer the same person I was before. Sadly, I truly doubt that the transformation was an improvement.
In fact, I am sure this is the most likely reason I continue to play at this game…this youthful folly…for fear that if I commit, that if I finally let myself feel, I will be hurt yet again.
I find it amazing that my relationship with her has lasted as long as it has. When I first met her I took up the challenge to get her into my bed…and a challenge it was! When I finally succeeded, I made it clear that I wanted to keep it light and she agreed. Now, all these years later, we are still together and I still say 'keep it light'…yet the idea of us ever being apart fills me with a bone chilling dread.
Truth be told, I don't know which is the more alarming, the fear that the relationship will eventually have to end…or the terror instilled by knowing I have let my guard down and made myself vulnerable to the pain I swore I would never experience again.
She just shifted in her sleep…the army issue blanket has slipped down, revealing her body to me. She was shivering so I tenderly tucked her back in, and was rewarded by a quiet, sleepy smile.
Lady Jaye…Alison…is a beautiful woman. She has a dancer's physique, long and slim yet muscular and well defined. Hers is a natural beauty, a quiet beauty…striking in its simplicity and charm…so different from the tall, heavily made up blonds that usually grace my arm.
Her skin is soft and smooth, no doubt a result of the care she takes with it. If you have ever been in her bathroom you would know what I mean. The woman must have stock in Crabtree and Evelyn! I remember the first time I stayed over…there was no room for my shaving cream and toothbrush between all those bottles.
Kiele's, Aveda, Body Shop, Clinique, SPA line…
Why one needs eight different Shampoos is certainly one of the great, unsolved mysteries that have confounded the male mind for time immemorial.
It is one of the few truly 'feminine' pursuits that she allows herself, pampering herself with hot bubble baths and scented creams. Not that any of it is ever overwhelming…she is a master of what she calls 'tasteful simplicity'…and admittedly I kind of like it. She always feels and smells wonderful.
Unconsciously, my hand goes to her left shoulder to trace the scar left by a bullet fired from a Crimson Guard's machine gun. She hates the thing…and of course I didn't help matters when I said it gave her character, that it was a battle scar and she should wear it with pride.
I think I also asked her in a suggestive tone if she would like to see my scars later that evening. That was the second time I had ever talked to her. Both times I was rewarded with a verbal slap in the face.
Did I say it was incredible that we have lasted so long? What I should have said was that it was a miracle we actually ended up together in the first place!
In any case, the reason she dislikes it so is that it is a permanent and stark reminder of her own morality, of a brush with the 'Dark Angel' who hovers around our small group…waiting for that one misstep, that one miscalculation…that one mistake…which will allow him to grab your hand and lead you from this world into the next.
Which is the precise reason why I told her that 'love has no place in the military' when we decided to take our relationship to a more intimate level. We cannot afford to get too close. We have to live for the day, and not plan for the future…
For we are soldiers, and as such we have but 'three firm friends, more sure than day and night, — ourselves, our Maker, and the angel Death.'
Why is it then that lately I am beginning to question that conviction?
Good to see you haven't lost your touch, Faireborn.
It's very early in the morning. The sun hasn't come up yet and in the distance wolves can be heard howling at he night sky. I awoke with a start a couple of minutes ago, my heart racing from that disquieting disorientation you get when you are awake enough to be aware of your surroundings, but not yet fully able to process where it is that you are.
Allie's warm, slumbering form is beside me, curled up comfortably on her side. She must be cold, as she is nestled up close to me, her head resting on my chest. I have to smile as I reach down to touch her gently, my thoughts turning to the events of last night as I run my hands through her soft brown hair.
I suppose I should mention that Jaye and I are lovers, although if you haven't yet inferred it from my previous entries I would be surprised. We have maintained a relationship for a good three years now, and though it has had its moments, for the most part we have remained true to each other throughout.
Sharing intimacies with this woman is an experience, and there has never been a time that I have been with her and not come away with a satisfied grin on my face. The feeling is mutual of that I am sure, even if she is loath to admit it for fear of stoking my already inflated ego. She needn't say a word, however. I can tell.
From every sound, every movement, every touch, I can tell.
I am very good at what I do. Hey…why beat around the bush? I am a great lover. Always have been. I know exactly what to do and when to do it. I can read a woman's body language and adjust my approach accordingly to fit her needs. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' type of guy. To me, a great deal of the satisfaction of sex comes from knowing you have made your partner feel the same pleasure that you have.
Just call me Don Juan Faireborn.
I needn't add that my skill is a point of pride. As the people who know me well can attest, I never boast about something I cannot backup.
Yes, I have had many lovers…and I can see where someone looking in from the outside would interpret the steady stream of women flowing in and out of my life as a sign of a shallow, selfish nature.
Maybe it is.
To be honest, a good deal of my adult life revolved around collecting beautiful women and wooing them to my bed. Does that make me a womanizer? I would be lying if I said I have never broken any hearts. I would be lying if I said I have never been in over my head and ended up hurting someone in the process of trying to extricate myself from a relationship gone sour. I would definitely be lying if I said I have never been hurt myself.
If I told you that I never led any of them to believe that the relationship was anything other than a short term fling…that I made it very clear from the get-go that they shouldn't expect any commitment from me…would that show me in a better light?
Probably not.
I could say that I was young and stupid, that this was the hot fire of youth, quickly extinguished by the experience and wisdom that come with age…with the satisfaction of finally finding the 'right' girl to settle down with and raise a family. Only I tried that once…to say that it didn't work would be the understatement of the millennium.
Not to mention I was still at it when I met Lady Jaye, and in a way some part of me continues even now…refusing to commit despite the inordinate amount of time this relationship has gone on…refusing to believe that I am finally content.
No…I am not cheating on her. I would NEVER do that.
Ever.
I have known the pain and hurt that comes when someone you love and trust has an affair…the heart-rending sadness caused by the most agonizing of betrayals. No apology can mend the wound. No excuse can possibly justify the duplicity.
Blaise Pascal once wrote that 'time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselves'. I tend to agree with this assessment. Time has dulled the pain, but more because the incident has changed me on some fundamental level than the slow and steady passing of the years.
I am no longer the same person I was before. Sadly, I truly doubt that the transformation was an improvement.
In fact, I am sure this is the most likely reason I continue to play at this game…this youthful folly…for fear that if I commit, that if I finally let myself feel, I will be hurt yet again.
I find it amazing that my relationship with her has lasted as long as it has. When I first met her I took up the challenge to get her into my bed…and a challenge it was! When I finally succeeded, I made it clear that I wanted to keep it light and she agreed. Now, all these years later, we are still together and I still say 'keep it light'…yet the idea of us ever being apart fills me with a bone chilling dread.
Truth be told, I don't know which is the more alarming, the fear that the relationship will eventually have to end…or the terror instilled by knowing I have let my guard down and made myself vulnerable to the pain I swore I would never experience again.
She just shifted in her sleep…the army issue blanket has slipped down, revealing her body to me. She was shivering so I tenderly tucked her back in, and was rewarded by a quiet, sleepy smile.
Lady Jaye…Alison…is a beautiful woman. She has a dancer's physique, long and slim yet muscular and well defined. Hers is a natural beauty, a quiet beauty…striking in its simplicity and charm…so different from the tall, heavily made up blonds that usually grace my arm.
Her skin is soft and smooth, no doubt a result of the care she takes with it. If you have ever been in her bathroom you would know what I mean. The woman must have stock in Crabtree and Evelyn! I remember the first time I stayed over…there was no room for my shaving cream and toothbrush between all those bottles.
Kiele's, Aveda, Body Shop, Clinique, SPA line…
Why one needs eight different Shampoos is certainly one of the great, unsolved mysteries that have confounded the male mind for time immemorial.
It is one of the few truly 'feminine' pursuits that she allows herself, pampering herself with hot bubble baths and scented creams. Not that any of it is ever overwhelming…she is a master of what she calls 'tasteful simplicity'…and admittedly I kind of like it. She always feels and smells wonderful.
Unconsciously, my hand goes to her left shoulder to trace the scar left by a bullet fired from a Crimson Guard's machine gun. She hates the thing…and of course I didn't help matters when I said it gave her character, that it was a battle scar and she should wear it with pride.
I think I also asked her in a suggestive tone if she would like to see my scars later that evening. That was the second time I had ever talked to her. Both times I was rewarded with a verbal slap in the face.
Did I say it was incredible that we have lasted so long? What I should have said was that it was a miracle we actually ended up together in the first place!
In any case, the reason she dislikes it so is that it is a permanent and stark reminder of her own morality, of a brush with the 'Dark Angel' who hovers around our small group…waiting for that one misstep, that one miscalculation…that one mistake…which will allow him to grab your hand and lead you from this world into the next.
Which is the precise reason why I told her that 'love has no place in the military' when we decided to take our relationship to a more intimate level. We cannot afford to get too close. We have to live for the day, and not plan for the future…
For we are soldiers, and as such we have but 'three firm friends, more sure than day and night, — ourselves, our Maker, and the angel Death.'
Why is it then that lately I am beginning to question that conviction?