January 1

January 1

The first day of the new year, and Paris isn't so much hung over as tired... after all, one only has so much energy for all this celebrating, and then one has to get back to the chase, for money, things, and erotic moments.

I walk along (of course) the Left Bank, Notre Dame on my right... I am feeling good. The small apartment I am renting suits my purposes for now, and my new friend Catherine likes it. I am feeling good, I realize, because last night we looked out from my darkened bedroom; she was on her hands and knees, and I entered her from behind, entering her ass that I had wetted with her own juices. She was so quietly and intensely aroused. She is like that, her juices streaming while her only sounds are the most muffled but intense whimpers. Her fingers were on her clit and I could feel her cumming as I was inside her ass. Afterward she just collapsed forward onto the bed, her head hanging over the edge, her hair tumbling down in a long reddish brown fall. The light glowed in from the city. That's why I am feeling so good today.

Tonight, a glass of Calvados. A bit of a celebration, a private, quiet one, inhaling the smoke of a patron who went outside to smoke his Gauloise, leaving his date inside to sip her wine. How perfectly imperfect, to compromise like that, and still not compromise at the same time - to be out together, but not share a bad habit. Resume the conversation when the smoke is done.

My Calvados is lovely. Burning and strong. Just right.