First wave is like a tongue caress.

Friday night. Late. 20 years ago I’d be in Hartford, New Haven, Providence, Boston, or NYC. A bit thinner then. Minidress, blond dreds, 3-inch heels, commando–you know it! And you asked me why I don’t have a husband or kids? My 30s was a time to enjoy grad school and late night clubbing–though if I was still up to it, I could do that now in DC. It’s different, though, the whole scene, my age, my attitude. I like fun–dancing, laughing, chatting. Doesn’t seem to feel right here. But far be it from me to suggest that one should not laugh, dance, sing, or chat during a time of war. And yes, my friends, we are at war. We were born into it. Party for your life, Muffins.  This #30Days aka #30storiesin30days will carry some of these idea strings into fictional landscapes, along with a few revisits to landscapes discovered during previous 30 day journeys.  The erotic never left, but you already know this truth.

Watch this spot.

#30days

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