I met a man and within hours we were friends

I recently met a man and within hours we were friends. 

Now many of you who know me will say, "HUH?!!"

I know, "FRIENDS" is such a highly volatile and misunderstood word. He and I exchanged Tweets and emails, I still am yet to hear his voice...even on the phone, but, yes, he is my friend.

Now depending on who you are, you might have had the opportunity to have worked with me, or spent some time with me, or even have been loved (a time or two) by...me, but you are all aware that I only give you so much. I am very passionate and I love and care, and I am a great resource to those I come to care for, but all this is solely MY terms. I am well aware of (what people often call) my shortcomings, which, as I see them, are a part of me and I never apologize for who and what I am. Now, each of you will have a memory of me, and each of you will have an image of me that I am sure is true to some extent, but very few people have a FULL understanding of who I am.

My sister Camille is probably the only person who I KNOW for a fact has periodically seen behind the protective shell I have worn for the entirety of my life.

I say all of that to simply share with you that "I met a man and within hours were friends."

I read one of his blogs in which he introduced a song to his readers. Now admittedly, I have never heard the song, nor had I even heard of the artist, but I went to youtube and listened to it.

I cried for about 8 minutes.

Then I wrote this note. Didn't edit, didn't check the spelling or the grammar...so please forgive me.

"I met a man and within hours we were friends."

I too was 'cursed' with a gypsy soul and was born for leaving. 

He doesn't know me, but he saw me. Although I smiled beautifully and my eyes sparkled, he saw me. I am truly thankful for that.

Welcome cowboy and I am amazed at your insight and careful scrutiny of me, even from so far away. You see me, and normally that would scare me, but I'm intrigued and still smiling. How do you manage so much success in such a short time, where so many have tried for years and failed miserably?

I leave this with all of you...

"Love me while you have me. Drink of me when I open to quench your thirst. Learn the lessons I teach. You really never know when the gypsy will find the need to roam again. It's in me, like fire through my veins and I must go, when it is time to go."

World of Fools

I am very observant, and since being on Twitter I have carefully watched the things that people say. There are a lot of unlearned fools out there and it makes me very very sad....

Confession of a SideChick: How it began...

Confession of a SideChick: How it began...: "As she walked into the Seven-Eleven Jess felt empowered. She knew Ty was watching her walk away. She swished and swayed just like she always..."

How it began...

As she walked into the Seven-Eleven Jess felt empowered. She knew Ty was watching her walk away. She swished and swayed just like she always did, and looked back at him and smiled. When she turned around she had walked directly into the police officer that was leaving the store.

“Oh I’m sorry…” she smiled.

“I’m not.” He grinned at her. Low cropped dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes, and gorgeous teeth. He was dressed in full uniform and carried a coffee cup.

Jess immediately felt the warmth between her legs as she rushed into the store and did not look back. She steadied herself. She could not remember the last time she had met a man who got her so flustered. He had only spoken two words and their eyes met for only seconds, but Jess felt the weakness in her stomach. As she poured her coffee she tried not to think about him; Mister NYPD, just delicious. They had definitely shared a moment, and Jess not very often did Jess get those moments; moments when she just lost control without any prompting. She wanted him and she didn’t even know him. It was quite unnerving.

She stood in line sipping her coffee. It wasn’t the best, but it was getting her out of the haze that seemed to cover her head. She still thought of him. She remembered the tattoo on his hand, KC, and wondered what it meant. Were cops even allowed to have tattoos? Maybe it was his initials, Kevin Clarke, or maybe his wife’s name, Kim Clarke. She laughed. He must have a wife and I bet she’s gorgeous, probably a tall blonde with fake tits. Shit, maybe he’s gay. Oh hell no, in that second that their eyes met, he had fucked her…definitely not gay. She reached into her purse as she was next in line. Damn five dollar bill was just there.

“Two-fifty-seven,” the old man behind the counter looked impatient.

“Ok, lemme give you a card…” Jess mumbled.

“I got it…” Mister NYPD was standing so close she could taste him.

“No. It’s ok…”

He quickly handed the man a five and didn’t even take his change. He stared at her. “I’m here to protect and serve.” His eyes again…those damn eyes. Jess looked away quickly.

What the fuck is this? He’s just a man Jess. She trembled a little. Compose yourself. The voices were alarmed.

“I actually just came back for some sugar.” His voice was sweet, but masculine and distinctly ‘New York’.

“Sugar…?” now Jess faced him.

He pointed to the counter with the condiments and held two packets of sugar in his hand. 

She laughed. 

She looked him over properly. Nice.

“Thanks for the coffee, but I really am just tired and couldn’t find my money.”

“I see a lady in trouble, and it is my duty to assist. What is your name lady?” …those fucking eyes again.

“Aren’t you on duty? Are you allowed to randomly pick up chicks at Seven-Eleven while you’re supposed to be working? Huh? Mister NYPD?”

“My name is Jorge…” he grinned, “…and yes I am Latino.”

“Well you don’t look it, Jorge, and I know that you can get in trouble for this.”

He laughed, “I’m the boss and I can pretty much do what I want, so will you tell me your name? Give me your number? You do know you owe me a cup of coffee?” 

Jess could not ignore the goose bumps on her arms or the tightening of her stomach. She felt the warmth between her legs again. She could smell him; Jorge the cop, yummy.

“Ok, why don’t you give me your number instead? I will call you. I promise.” She took out her phone.

He was laughing again, “Where are you from? You sound like you’re from Europe somewhere.”

“I will tell you all of that when I call you later.”

He said his number and she just dialed it right away.

He reached for his phone, “Jessica Scott?” He grinned.

“Oh wow, your caller ID does that?” She blushed. 

“C’mon pretty lady, I’m the law.” He looked at his phone again, “Jessica Scott.” 

They both laughed as she turned and exited the store. She grinned as she knew he was watching her walk away.

“What took so long Jess? I was about to come in.” Ty was already out of his truck.

“You see all the cops don’t you? They needed their donuts.” She laughed.

As Ty drove her home in silence, Jess sipped her coffee while she texted Jorge over and over again. He was funny and sweet and she couldn’t help but be intrigued by him. Was this the start of something new? She tried to remember when was the last time that she had been this excited about a man. Jess had grown so tired of men in general. 

She could not get the image of his eyes out of her mind and how he seemed to stare right through her. She noticed his other tattoos that were on his arms. She wanted to be in those arms. She could still smell him. Text messages went back and forth; Jorge to Jess and Jess back to Jorge. She felt a little juvenile, but couldn’t stop.

The following evening at six o clock, Jess sat in the little Irish bar and waited for Jorge. She couldn’t wait to see him again. Hundreds of messages exchanged between them in just one day, and as Jess sat re-reading them, she giggled to herself, sipped her vodka martini, and quite enjoyed the feeling of the butterflies dancing in her belly. She still didn’t know very much about him, just that he was a huge flirt and that he made her want to do nasty things with him. He was originally from New York and stereotypically native, but painfully attractive, confident, and aware. He was in his early thirties and had been on the force for more than a decade, so he really was a career cop; the boss, as he had said. He was unlike anyone Jess had ever dated, and she tried to figure what it was about him that made her uneasy; even a little scared. Like a moth to a flame...

“Hola pretty lady,” her thoughts were broken by Jorge kissing her on the cheek. She hadn’t even seen him come in. He wore a t-shirt and shorts; like he was going to the park. Jess would have never dated a man who turned up for their first date in shorts, but for some reason that didn’t even matter now. He ordered a beer; Heineken, and they laughed and talked like old friends. Jorge made it easy for Jess to relax and let her guard down. She clung to his every word like it was the air she needed to live. She let herself go and enjoyed the attention and relished in the unmistakable sexual chemistry between them. 

“So Jorge, why are you single.” She couldn’t help herself.

He took a gulp of his beer.

“Well actually, I’m not,” he paused, “I am married, been with her for eleven years, married for six.” He looked at her expectantly. 

Those fucking eyes!

She smiled, “Well, technically, so am I, but I have only been married a year.”

He looked surprised, but they both laughed. 

As the evening passed, the energy flowed easily and freely.

He would stare and she stared back.

She loved it. She knew she wanted to fuck him. The voices, surprisingly, danced happily in her head. He’s great Jess. Just do it. He’s definitely the one to bring you out of this funk. Take a bite out of this Big Apple Jess. You need it.

“Why do you stare at me so much Jorge?”

“I can’t help it. Perdona mi Chula.”

She snickered, “Huh? You know I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Forgive me for staring, but you are so beautiful, and the more I see you, the more…” he stopped abruptly.

“The more what…?”

Silence… He took another gulp of his beer.  

She waited.

“Jorge…”

“I can’t say it Chula.”

“Just say it.”

“I can’t. I mean I can, but I really shouldn’t…” he looked a little nervous.

Jess reached out and stroked his arm; the same arm she wanted wrapped around her body.

“Just say it…”

He exhaled, “I was just thinking of all the things I’d like to do to you.” His eyes sparkled.

“Like what?”

Again he paused.

“I can’t…”

“Oh God,” she laughed loudly, “…what things would you like to do to me?”

He looked away, and she pushed a little further, “Ok, since you can’t tell me what you want to do to me, how about you just show me?”

He looked confused, “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to the ladies room. Figure it out.” 

He watched her walk away.

She looked in the mirror in the bathroom. Jess, just go ahead and fuck him. You need it. You probably won’t ever even see him again. He’s married. The sex might not even be good. Go ahead. You are only going to be here in New York for another week, so if it’s good then you can do it again, if it’s bad, then you won’t have to waste any more time hanging out with him.  

When she got back to Jorge, he had paid the bill and looked at her hungrily. He had ‘figured it out!’