Cleaning Up, Dirty Rydder opp, Dirty
26.Dec.2007, 07:37 pm 26.Dec.2007, 07:37 Demeter “Dirt” cologne Demeter "Dirt" Köln $20, DemeterFragrance.com $ 20, DemeterFragrance.com 
“I am so dirty.” says The Boy, sweat patterning his plain T-shirt, a smudge of mud coloring his cheek. "Jeg er så skitten." Sier gutten, svette mønstre sitt vanlig t-skjorte, en smudge av gjørme coloring kinnet hans.
“Not as dirty as me.” I brush a speck silvery eye shadow from my black wool, drop-waist coat, my eyes touch the tips of my virgin white peep-toe stilettos, I check my brushed-on, school-girl blush in a gilt mirror while The Boy's looking away. "Ikke så skitten som meg." Jeg pensel et fnugg sølv øyenskygge fra min svart ull, drop-waist coat, øynene mine berører tips av min jomfruelig hvit peep-toe stilettos, merker jeg børstet på, skole-jente rødme i en forgylt speil mens gutten ser bort.
“I was in the garden,” he says, voice muffled as he drags off his shirt. "Jeg var i hagen, sier han, stemmen dempet da han drar av seg skjorta. “I dug up a lily for my neighbor this morning.” Jeg gravde opp en lilje for naboen min i morges. "
“I bought a five-dollar soy latte for myself this morning,” I counter. "Jeg kjøpte en fem dollar soya latte på meg denne morgenen, jeg teller.
“That's productive and generous of you.” «Det er produktiv og sjenerøs av dere."
“I do what I can for the US economy,” I say. «Jeg gjør hva jeg kan for den amerikanske økonomien, sier jeg. “Consumer spending is down, especially in markets that rip off upper middle-class people.” I trail The Boy into one of his bathrooms, a marble rectangle of space as large as my Los Angeles flat. "Consumer utgifter er nede, spesielt i markeder som rip off øvre middelklasse folk." Jeg trail Gutten i en av sine bad, marmor rektangel plass så stor som min Los Angeles flat. As soon as he closes the glass shower door, I press my face to it. Så snart han lukker glasset dusj døren, trykker jeg ansiktet mitt til det. “Dance for me, baby. «Dance for me, baby. Once you get the water going, I want you to do this.” I rub my bra-less bust, I lick my polished lips, I wink, lids lowered with layers of mascara. Når du får vannet går, jeg vil at du skal gjøre dette. "Gni jeg BH-mindre byste, jeg slikke mine blanke lepper, wink jeg, lokk senket med lag med mascara.
He turns the water on, and the shining wet slicks down his chest, beading in his hairs, highlighting bones and lean muscle. Han slår vann på, og det skinnende våt slicks nedover brystet, beading i hans hår, utheving bein og mager muskel.
“Now work your Christmas package like a UPS man,” I say, my fists bouncing against the glass. "Nå er arbeidet Christmas pakken som en UPS-mann, sier jeg, min nevene bouncing mot glasset. “Only with some feeling. "Bare med litt følelse. It's the holidays, god-dammit.” Det er ferie, gud-dammit. "
The Boy swings his hips for me, he unhooks the corded, chrome shower head and mimes singing into it. Gutten svinger hoftene for meg, unhooks han ledning, krom dusjhode og Treff på MIME synger i den. Then he goes back to sudsing his body, foams pure function and no finesse. Så går han tilbake til sudsing kroppen, skum ren funksjon og uten finesse.
“Keep dancing!” I command. "Keep dancing!" Kommanderer jeg. “The glass steamed up, wipe it off so I can watch.” My body's pressed against the glass door as he points the shower head at it; the water rolls down my vanilla chiffon dress, only spotting it with shadows. "Glasset dampet opp, tørk den av slik at jeg kan se." Min kropp er presset mot glassdøren som han peker dusjen hodet på den; vannet ruller nedover vanilje chiffon kjole, bare småblødninger med skygger. “That's right, get me wet, baby.” "That's right, få meg våt, baby."
“I should start charging you for this show,” says The Boy. "Jeg skal begynne å belaste deg for dette showet, sier gutten. “Why is it always just "Hvorfor er det alltid bare sex sex , just my body with you?” , Bare min kropp med deg? "
“That's all you've got going for you.” I finger one of his monogrammed towels, hanging from a silver-plated pole. "Det er alt du har å gå for deg." Jeg finger en av hans monogram håndklær, hengende fra en sølvbelagt polet. “You think you're smart? «Du tror du er smart? Mr. Reading The Wall St. Journal Since You Were Nine? Mr. Reading The Wall Street Journal siden du var ni? Mr. Making Millions With Your Mind?” I toss a dollar bill over the glass door, but the steam makes the paper float back to me, brushing against my chest. Mr. Making Millioner With Your Mind? "Jeg kaste en dollar bill. over glassdøren, men dampen gjør papiret flyte tilbake til meg, børsting mot brystet mitt. “Please, baby. "Please, baby. I write about overpriced shoes for a living. Jeg skriver om dyre sko til et levebrød. I know genius when I see it. Jeg vet geni når jeg ser den. And genius is your humping that wall for me.” Og geni er din Humping at veggen for meg. "
He swirls his hips against the swirled, caramel marble walls. Han swirls hoftene mot sveivde, karamell marmor vegger.
“Oh, yeah!” I push my powdered nose into the glass. "Oh, yeah!" Jeg presse meg pulverisert nesen ned i glasset. “You're a nice piece of meat, kid.” «Du er et flott stykke kjøtt, gutt."
“Do you ever hear me talking to you like this?” asks The Boy, turning to grin at me through the glass. "Har du noen gang hører meg snakke med deg slik?" Spør gutten, blir til smil på meg gjennom glasset.
“No, but you should start,” I say. "Nei, men du bør starte, sier jeg. “I get offended sometimes, thinking you only want me for my brain.” "Jeg fornærmet noen ganger, tenker du bare vil meg for hjernen min."
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27.Dec.2007, 11:07 pm 27.Dec.2007, 11:07
Oh, hot shower scenes can never get old. Oh, varm dusj scenene kan aldri bli gamle.
27.Dec.2007, 11:09 pm 27.Dec.2007, 11:09
So when you sudsing up for me? Så når du sudsing opp for meg?
XXXO, XXXO,
K K