Between the Covers

In between the covers is a world of fantasy for me. Role playing and play acting- pretending my life is far more exciting than it truly is. I don't need to travel to exotic places to live out my delusions. Between these delicious covers my deepest, darkest desires become reality.

Between the covers I've been a thousand different versions of me. A queen on the throne followed by fawning courtiers, begging for my favors. I preferred the horse, thank you very much. Trampled but still alive to relive the pleasures over and over. I was pure evil for a night or two.

I am the Russian Countess, who finds her secret lover in a dark hotel room and falls into his arms, regardless of the bitter consequences, blaming it on the waltz. That was me for a while. Spared the railroad tracks, I live on to remember the ecstasy and repeat it as often as I wish.

Whisk me away to the cries on the forest path, as the good doctor's wife. The duplicitous wife who has spent her favors foolishly and now finds herself alone and unwanted by even the lowest of the low. I enjoyed the pleasures and shame for a brief evening or two and never had to suffer the indignities. I could walk away unscathed by the bitter taste of morphine.

Oh, Mary Anne. The blistered hearts left in the wake of my callous misuse of the men in my path. Come close to my fire. I promise not to burn you. Then I laughed as their romances went up in flames. Pay my bills, escort me to the ball so I can leave you for someone more appealing. I did fully intend to make a fool of you to reach the top. Scandals be damned. I will be remembered. I will be remembered. I can relive this thrill whenever I like.

I was the vile, wicked woman romping in the waves with the young men, tripping over lizards as I dragged the boys to my bed so they could fight over me. Better than the movies. It always is when it's between the covers because I can relive it whenever I choose.

I've loved and never lost. I've been loved by my heart's desires. Worshipped by men who would never have noticed me outside the covers. Heady with lust, livened by new adventures every night. Am I a mountain climber at base camp in tibet? Am I a serpentine belly dancer in a harem? Between the covers there are no better women, no younger, no prettier.

Perhaps I'm the mermaid lolling on the rock, a siren call to lonely sailors. Am I the hardened prostitute found lifeless in the London alley, blood pooling at my throat after an encounter with a famous madman?

A white-faced Geisha, silently treading toward the gentlemen with my tea pot and a gentle sultry smile on my face. Do I pick up my lute and play or lay down and become the submissive instrument on which a tragic melody is played? My life always in the hands of others.

Do I depend upon the kindness of strangers while I'm stealing my sister's man? My desire is too strong for a mere mortal man to tame. Who can keep up with my hundreds of personalities when I climb between the covers? These covers are magical, full of destination and thrills. Each night when my hands slide between them evokes a new dream or perhaps a repeat of a favorite erotic fantasy.

These covers that I can never resist. These enticing covers will be the death of me. Between the covers, the tender sheets rustling as I turn each page in anticipation. Between the covers I can be anyone I choose to be.