So last night I am about to have sex with Ian Somerhalder. We are all over each other, kissing and fondling, and sweet baby Jesus and Buddha serene, he’s criminally handsome. He’s got that evil twinkle in his unbelievable, transparent blue eyes, and he’s flashing me his bad boy sideways grin, turning me into a useless heap of hormones. He’s just amazing, caring and passionate and just as rough as he should be, and I am trembling and kissing him and pulling him in my embrace like a woman possessed. He is entirely focused on me, doing everything he can to make me melt, generous in the manner of an experienced lover who puts the other person’s pleasure before their own. I feel the luckiest woman in the world to have his full attention. He’s just, oh hell, his hands feel so good on me, his body feels so hot and alive writhing under my fingers. His face was made to destroy women (and some men, I’m sure) and it’s all mine to kiss and feel and feast upon. There is only one word to describe the situation: heaven.
So, just as things are about to get from hot to steamy and what little clothing we still had on is going to be hastily discarded to the floor, my waking mind together with my conscience seep though. So I turn and say to him, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you married? You should go and talk with your wife about this, and then come back to continue.” And naturally, he stopped and I woke up.
GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! I want to shoot me dead! I want to take a hammer and pound me unconscious! I’ve been snapping at people since I woke up. Any ideas why? 😛
Does any of you know a fail safe way to have the same dream two nights in a row? I won’t open my mouth this time even if I have to tape it to make sure. I mean look at this. I said no to this face. It was the only chance I had and wasted it. I’m sure if I try to dream of him again tonight, I’ll dream of my surly school headmaster yelling at me. It will serve me right.