Right, so I sit down intent on writing something deep and moving in response to Michelle’s prompt and all I can think about is George Michael and careless whisper.
The song is not simply simply tugging at the edges of my thinking as I write, but rather it in my face, freshly waxed wearing only tight leather pants, gyrating suggestively and occasionally thrusting it’s bulge at me quite provocatively shouting “Look at me! Look at Me!”
I’ve tried a few lines of touching prose but each time I think I am getting somewhere it then sneaks up behind me, wraps its hands tenderly around my waist, grinds against me whispering into my ear “Never gonna dance again…”
Given how intent it was on being heard I thought perhaps listening to it might vanquish it from my thinking. Get it over and done with as it was but alas that did not quite work out as I had hoped. Sitting at the desk where I write in the spare room in only my boxers, illuminated by the light of my small screen screen listening to careless whisper, my wife noticed me and passed commented that perhaps I should light a few candles or was there maybe something I needed to tell her.
I attempted to explain my predicament but I had started a playlist and suddenly “I want your sex” started to play and the moment for explanations was lost.
Oh well, maybe next time eh.
Photo courtesy of Comfreak@pixabay