Cabaret Desire Page #2

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She often spoke of him, in fact.

And always with the most sincere

and profound intellectual admiration.

I would listen intently

trying so hard not to ask questions.

But always asking too many

and causing her to snap out of it

and change the subject.

I was always suspicious

that it was more than just a simple robbery.

Especially after Razmann wrote a best-selling novel

whose protagonist mysteriously resembled my mother.

But neither the novel, nor my mother ever revealed exactly

what precious object she stole from him that day.

Of course,

in the end I figured it out.

After years of stalking around the house

looking for some hidden object

it finally came to me.

There wasn't any mysterious treasure hiding around the corner.

As it turned out, the thing she stole,

her greatest work

was me.

Hello! I'm so pleased to introduce you to Simone,

One of our most exciting poets.

Please sit down.

- Please. - Three?

I always thought that when I turned 30,

I'd be an adult,

living the life I'd always fantasized about.

The one that was created when we were little girls.

A beautiful home,

two kids, a dog,

a fulfilling career,

a handsome and adoring husband.

It's funny how life plays its course.

Our white picket fantasies that seem so clear as little girls,

change and transform

as we become more who we truly are.

As the years pass by,

my best friends and I have lived through many things together.

Made little pacts to support and pique our every desire.

Every birthday has become a sort of

showcase of sexual playthings.

A few days ago I turned 30.

And have to confess

I was intensely curious to know what mischief

my friends had dreamed up for me this year.

Amongst giggles and champagne

and that perfect easiness you have with best friends,

And now the present.

they pulled out an envelope.

Inside was a card with a phone number on it.

That's it.

Call this number at 6pm on Friday,

was all they said.

Lips were sealed.

However, after a few glasses of champagne

Patrick did let it slip

that the other end of this phone line

was not completely unknown,

that by 30, we should all finally get over ourselves

and become more ballsy.

Friday I was a mushy mess of excitement and nervousness.

But I called.

A male voice said:

I'll pick you up at in an hour.

Be ready.

Don't make me wait.

Who was that?

Damn, he had a sexy voice.

But the main question was:

What the hell was I supposed to wear

if I didn't know where I was going

or with whom.

Six outfit changes later

and I opt for sexy.

When in doubt:
heels, leather,

but with a tinge of femininity.

I was just about to lose myself in a little fantasy

when the doorbell rang,

jolting me into reality

and causing me to go all

weak-kneed and school girlish again.

A black motorcycle,

a blindfold,

a hard bodied man.

And oh yes, my friends know me oh too well.

I tried to conceal the fact that I was so wet.

I practically was sliding off the seat.

But the bike's vibration wasn't helping this.

I think the driver could feel my legs trembling,

pressed against his hips.

The ride could have been 5 minutes or 30,

I couldn't gauge.

But by the time we arrived

and he told me to go inside

I was practically dizzy with anticipation.

This has to be some sort of elaborate ruse.

I'll go in

and all my friends will be there for my surprise party!

I hope they invited the guy on the motorcycle.

If he looks half as good as he felt, I'd be happy.

Ok.

A surprise party with scantily clad angels or what?

My friends do know that I've always been curious about that.

And Patrick did say

that I needed to become more daring.

A bed

in the clouds.

Ok, where are the angels?

This is strange.

Did I go into the wrong room?

Am I early for my own party?

Or am I just imagining that I'm seeing

the silhouette of a gorgeous man or what?

Matisse.

Please tell me this is not a dream!

How did they manage to convince him?

I've been on to him for months.

The only man sexy enough to paralyze me.

Literally!

And as if all this wasn't wild enough,

he actually leans in and whispers to me:

now we can finally sweat together.

Now I can finally taste that sweat of yours.

I know you've been watching me sweat.

Now I want to make you sweat.

God, he tastes better than I could ever imagine.

Did those bastards pay for him?

Or how in the world did they lure him here?

Anyway

lucky me!

30, yes!

Here's to being 30!

I'm going to tell you a story.

But first...

After 15 minutes of walking in high heels

that were too high and too new,

her feet were killing her.

God, I am so uncomfortable!

And this dress is too short.

These shoes are ridiculous.

I don't feel right.

Do I really have to try so hard to impress?

Couldn't I just have worn something more me?

A teenage. That's what I look like.

Someone who is dumb enough to go on a date

riding bicycle in this heat

wearing a suit no less.

Sh*t, I'm nervous.

Ok.

What we had was good.

oof, damn good.

But, it's not going to go anywhere.

It was just amazing sex

for a few days over a year ago.

And that's it.

And ... he is so

not my type.

Older than me, divorced with a kid.

Oh, such a bad idea.

Oh! Why the hell did I say yes?

What I'm doing?

What do we even get to talk about?

It's been over a year since we've seen each other.

I don't even know where to start.

Man, why do I always complicate my life like this?

I can't even remember how old she is.

Maybe I should just buy one of those cupcakes

and eat it alone and skip the date.

Problem solved.

We just locked ourselves in that apartment for three days straight

and went for it.

And for the life of me

I just can't remember the first thing about her.

That's pathetic.

Oof, damn.

What should I do?

What am I doing?

What if he doesn't want anything serious?

What if I don't want a relationship right now?

Or ...

what if I do?

I don't know. I just ...

This restaurant is rank.

Why didn't I just decide

to hit that amazing sushi joint right by my place?

So here I am.

Trying to make a good impression

with this ridiculous outfit and a tie.

Nice going!

You gotta chill, man.

Please, just try to have a good time.

And be yourself, right?

Oh man, I always arrive first.

Just what I was hoping wouldn't happen.

Oh, this guy is going to show up, right?

Now that would be the icing on the cake.

Let me tell you.

Come on!

Great!

Just what I needed.

A flat f***ing tire.

Another glass?

H'm, sure! Why not?

At least I'll be in a good mood when he arrives.

Or depending on how long he takes.

Stumbling drunk.

And now of course I'm going to be late.

Such an idiot!

Gosh! Not even a message, nothing!

He's not coming. You'll see.

Typical me. Always messing things up.

Well, I'm polishing off a bottle of Champagne

all alone.

Great!

Ok.

That's enough. I'm going.

This guy is making such a fool out of me.

I look f***ing hot.

And I'm goingto call Marie to go out.

I'm going to the bathroom.

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