Tuesday, October 28, 2003
The time has come...
I approach it from behind, a behemoth that somehow evokes speed and agility. It's quiet now, peaceful, but I'm very familiar with its loud roar, can hear it reverberate in my mind, feel the molecules of my body vibrate with its raw power. It's beautiful in repose, a sparkling warm burgandy in the bright late October sun.
Such animals don't normally move me so. They exist, as do I, and that's just the way of the world, though sometimes I wish it weren't. There are too damn many of them, especially in my city, and the majority of their owners have no clue about how to control them.
But this species has always spoken to me, called to me in a way no other has. It has long been a dream of mine to command such a creature. I know this one is not mine, may never be mine, but for a short time I claim it as my own, thrilling in my fleeting control, but also afraid of the unpredictability of the beast. This beast, nearly as old as myself, but far more cantankerous. Still, with soft words and patience and gentle stroking, I can usually bring it to bear, have it perform for me. It grumbles, but it does my bidding, its terrifying growl more like a purr to my grateful ears.
We travel down the street together. I imagine looks of fear, of envy, of appreciation following us everywhere. And lust. Of course there must be lust-filled gazes trailing behind us. A sexy woman with a sexy animal? What could be hotter?
After much wrestling on the way to our destination, we arrive. I step down, leading with my black heel-clad foot, to be followed by smooth bare leg and the wine-colored skirt just above the knee. I stand up straight, sure and confident and supremely cool as I leave my again silent companion for the day and walk into my place of business.
One last look.
Damn, that 1967 Mustang is one sexy car.
Such animals don't normally move me so. They exist, as do I, and that's just the way of the world, though sometimes I wish it weren't. There are too damn many of them, especially in my city, and the majority of their owners have no clue about how to control them.
But this species has always spoken to me, called to me in a way no other has. It has long been a dream of mine to command such a creature. I know this one is not mine, may never be mine, but for a short time I claim it as my own, thrilling in my fleeting control, but also afraid of the unpredictability of the beast. This beast, nearly as old as myself, but far more cantankerous. Still, with soft words and patience and gentle stroking, I can usually bring it to bear, have it perform for me. It grumbles, but it does my bidding, its terrifying growl more like a purr to my grateful ears.
We travel down the street together. I imagine looks of fear, of envy, of appreciation following us everywhere. And lust. Of course there must be lust-filled gazes trailing behind us. A sexy woman with a sexy animal? What could be hotter?
After much wrestling on the way to our destination, we arrive. I step down, leading with my black heel-clad foot, to be followed by smooth bare leg and the wine-colored skirt just above the knee. I stand up straight, sure and confident and supremely cool as I leave my again silent companion for the day and walk into my place of business.
One last look.
Damn, that 1967 Mustang is one sexy car.
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United States, California, Los Angeles, San Fernando Valley, English, Carol, Female, 36-40.
