Our Not So Dirty Little Secrets

In a world without consequences…

(And what are consequences? The reactions of others, our own hang-ups, our own inhibitions, the law? That’s up to you.)

**

Just once, or maybe twice, she puts her life into a little box and locks it carefully and places it on a shelf for the evening. She puts on high heels and knows how to walk in them. She wears stockings with a thin, delicate line traced up the back of her calf and up the back of her thigh and up past the hem of her short—but not too short—skirt.

The music is loud.  The lights are dim.

And maybe she just dances. Or maybe, in dark, soft corners, she finds an embrace. Soft lips. Warm hands.

**

(Those inhibitions tug the words off the page. Don’t say that out loud!)

I don’t judge people with alternative sexual lifestyles because part of me knows the only difference between me and them are my own inhibitions and perceived consequences. It’s not for me, I think, but oh how wonderful it seems for you. That sense of surety, the freedom, the confidence.

Hey you, yes. You, with the open marriage. You, the swinger. You, the exotic dancer. You, the dating woman. You, the married woman with a scorching sex life and a trunk full of dildos. From my point of view, you walk naked on Technicolor grass that’s oh so greener than mine.

I remind myself every lifestyle has its complications.  How many of us truly live each and every moment—in bed and out—without regret and doubt?

I ignore regret and doubt and realism and embrace the sharp, over-saturated colors of fantasy.

Maybe a world without consequences is the world we visit when our minds wander at the gasping brink of release. Maybe a world without consequences is the daydream that flutters through our synapses as we careen down the Interstate on our way to work.

My fantasies? Oh, they’re complicated. Ever-changing, evolving. My sexual fantasies are an organic extension of the stories I told myself at night for years and years and years growing up. They’re intimate, and my own—but know that you’re not the only one who goes dreamwalking to places far from your own bed and far from the arms you know.

You’re not unfaithful or strange or really even all that kinky. You’re creative and alive. Your mind and imagination and arousal are wholly unique and absolutely electric.

Where do you go, in a world without consequences?