What am I gonna do with you?

Her eyes were steel blue and locked onto mine like wrists cuffed to a bedpost; like cool black leather, tanned dark from sweat and spit, scarred and scuffed from a life of hard living, but lined with the softest sweetest fur this side of Texas. We kissed lightly on the lips, briefly, and as we each pulled back she gave me one last firm look and asked, more to herself than to me, “What am I gonna do with you?” A sweet Texas drawl that slowed down time lassoed the “with” and it fell to its knees like a helpless calf. “Mmm mm” she mumbled as she turned and slipped down from the cab of my truck.

It was only a few hours back that we first laid eyes on one another. We had been exchanging email for a few weeks but I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that there was a certain quality of persistence in her, a determination to grasp life by the horns, that pulled me in her direction.

**********

I was careful when I posted that ad. I wanted someone who matched my intensity, my longing, my desire. I wanted energy that would accompany mine like the eager lead in a waltz. I wanted it all; the sweetness, the hardness, the grip and the caress. And I wanted someone who knew what I was looking for, what I needed.

I want to be your girl.
The one who brings you breakfast in bed on Sunday morning, just the way you like it.
The one who falls asleep with her head on your chest and her arms around you.
The one who grabs your arm when the movie turns scary.
The one who purrs and arches her back when you scratch that one spot.
The one who buys you the right kind of underwear for Christmas.
The one who gives herself to you with absolute trust and abandon.
The one who's softness yields willingly to your hardness.
The one who feels honored and moved when you cry in her presence.
The one whose wrists go limp in your firm grip.
The one who adores your quirks and accepts you as you are.
The one who's heart flutters with pride and joy when you say "that's my girl."

“What is your name? What do you drive? Where do you live?” I looked at
the return address and noted the name. Tex. For a moment I wondered if
Tex was a man or a woman and then I hit delete. A few days later another
message appeared, “What does it take for you to respond?” I felt the 
back off stir in me and replied “Someone who is willing to share something
of themselves before asking me my name and where I live.” 

“Ah, I got your attention. SWEET!” came the reply, and the blinking red
light of warning in my brain changed to green. Go. We chatted back and
forth for a few weeks until a date was set. We would meet at Margaritas
and then go for a stroll in the park.

**********

When Tex walked in the first thing I noticed was that she had on more make up than I, and damn if it didn’t looked better than mine! I felt my mind strain as it tried to comprehend a butch in Ralph Loren and Lancome. But there was something about her confident swagger and the way she smiled at the waitress that reassured me she was indeed the one who had demanded my attention.

We ordered. We chatted. We looked at one another, sizing each other up. The dance of getting acquainted was smooth and easy. Comfortable. Familiar. That is until she interrupted my friendly “date chatter” with “Your eyes are so beautiful.” The “so” sounded like a cowboy calling his dog to his side. As she pinned me down with those piercing blue eyes I could feel my pulse beating and the perspiration gather on my upper lip.

As our lunch went on my heart rate returned to normal, but I remained alert and ready to bolt. It wasn’t that I was scared, or even uncomfortable, but the tension of pursuit vibrated in my body like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm. We ate our lunch and then walked in the park. The familiarity of the bronze Botero sculptures grounded me in place and body. Tex had never seen a Botero, which I found refreshing and appealing; I imagined she could look upon the rotund figures with eyes unjaded by theory and critique, with a freshness and openness that I found lacking in most. We got some waters and sat for a bit in the sun, Tex conversing with strangers and me drinking in her easy way of making them smile like a sip of sweet tea from the south.

She walked me back to my truck and, not knowing how I was going to say good bye just yet I offered to give her a lift back to her car - despite the fact it was just a few blocks away. She gracefully accepted and was gentlemanly enough not to embarrass me for asking.

It was then, as I idled next to the curb in front of her car, that I leaned in and kissed her. A soft, hesitant, I’m not sure if this is a good idea kind of kiss. A polite, I’m a good girl, I’m a sub kind of kiss. A quick, impulsive, I want more of you kind of kiss. Our lips parted and that is when she said it. “What am I gonna do with you?”

I watched her as she slipped down and stepped away from the truck, closing the door behind her. She disappeared but my eyes remained fixed to the spot as my mind wondered what would she do with me.