Cabaret Desire Page #3

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A beautiful home,

two kids, a dog,

a fulfilling career,

a handsome and adoring husband.

It's funny how life plays its course.

Our white picket fantasies that seem so clear as little girls,

change and transform

as we become more who we truly are.

As the years pass by,

my best friends and I have lived through many things together.

Made little pacts to support and pique our every desire.

Every birthday has become a sort of

showcase of sexual playthings.

A few days ago I turned 30.

And have to confess

I was intensely curious to know what mischief

my friends had dreamed up for me this year.

Amongst giggles and champagne

and that perfect easiness you have with best friends,

And now the present.

they pulled out an envelope.

Inside was a card with a phone number on it.

That's it.

Call this number at 6pm on Friday,

was all they said.

Lips were sealed.

However, after a few glasses of champagne

Patrick did let it slip

that the other end of this phone line

was not completely unknown,

that by 30, we should all finally get over ourselves

and become more ballsy.

Friday I was a mushy mess of excitement and nervousness.

But I called.

A male voice said:

I'll pick you up at in an hour.

Be ready.

Don't make me wait.

Who was that?

Damn, he had a sexy voice.

But the main question was:

What the hell was I supposed to wear

if I didn't know where I was going

or with whom.

Six outfit changes later

and I opt for sexy.

When in doubt:
heels, leather,

but with a tinge of femininity.

I was just about to lose myself in a little fantasy

when the doorbell rang,

jolting me into reality

and causing me to go all

weak-kneed and school girlish again.

A black motorcycle,

a blindfold,

a hard bodied man.

And oh yes, my friends know me oh too well.

I tried to conceal the fact that I was so wet.

I practically was sliding off the seat.

But the bike's vibration wasn't helping this.

I think the driver could feel my legs trembling,

pressed against his hips.

The ride could have been 5 minutes or 30,

I couldn't gauge.

But by the time we arrived

and he told me to go inside

I was practically dizzy with anticipation.

This has to be some sort of elaborate ruse.

I'll go in

and all my friends will be there for my surprise party!

I hope they invited the guy on the motorcycle.

If he looks half as good as he felt, I'd be happy.

Ok.

A surprise party with scantily clad angels or what?

My friends do know that I've always been curious about that.

And Patrick did say

that I needed to become more daring.

A bed

in the clouds.

Ok, where are the angels?

This is strange.

Did I go into the wrong room?

Am I early for my own party?

Or am I just imagining that I'm seeing

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