About Nude Not Naked

A conversation is like a game of tennis and when you find someone who interests you in words, it is like you have found your perfect tennis partner - someone that you can slam the yellow ball to and someone who would return the ball hard. A good conversation, like tennis, keeps you running to the corners of your court, banging, smashing, slamming and swearing.

And I love good conversations. I like the fact that you can have conversations anywhere and it can spring up anytime with the most unlikely people. Conversations have the ability to lift dark clouds on grey sky days and add a little zing to your life when you are feeling dreary. I love unusual pieces of conversations and I keep them locked up in my mind, days, months and years after they have gone by.

When executed well, a conversation with a cheeky, cocky and suave man (think Daniel Craig in his Bond role) can be the turning point. The point when I begin to look at a man differently; from disinterest to hot pursuit. Maybe I have watched too many episodes of Sesame Street. I like men who know how to string their words right.

Trust me. Stringing words might be easy but striking a balance between being a bumbling fool trying to pass off as Casanova and an overconfident mouthy human catastrophe is one delicate act that not many are able to achieve. And for every fascinating piece of conversation I have had, I had equal amount of lousy, shitty tête-à-tête. Actually I think I have had more lousy, shitty conversations…

Some conversations throw you off court. They are the unexpected pieces of conversations that grabs your attention from the word “go”. In tennis terms, it is like Martina Hingis running to the extreme right of the court, screaming “ugh!” before sending the ball back to the other side of the court.


***
“We are friends…” I backed three steps before the wall stopped me. “… and friends…” Trapped in the corner. He leaned over and kissed my neck gently. His kisses were like tiny butterflies dancing along my skin. “... and friends don’t do this…” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. My eyes, they fluttered. “… and friends don’t do this…” I said as I pushed him away. “… friends don’t do this…”

“I…” he said as he stepped three steps towards me again. “…never want you as my friend.” His kisses were wild and hurried, like lovers meeting for the first time under the full moon. His hands bundled my hair into a knot, until it was a mop in his right hand. “I want you…” His tongue traced the curvature of my neck. “… as my lover.”

Those were the words I had yearned to hear and when the words came, my fingers ran across his face. Little kisses as light as a drizzle rained on his lips.


***
Every now and then your partner in conversation underestimates your response. He anticipates a softer comeback but with a little wit and perhaps even a dash of cheekiness, you will soon make a mark in the person’s mind. You are the one in hot pursuit and you are the one who is banging the balls hard, back to the other side of the court, in the most unusual ways.


***
“Arent’ you afraid that I would drug you?” His tongue glided along the white cigarette paper. “… that one day, I might drug and rape you?” We were sat in the car on one of our usual drives around the city. He closed his eyes as he relaxed into his first puff. “After all, I bring you your drinks and I have all your things.”

It was true, what he said. Whatever you are searching for, ask AB and he will have it hidden somewhere in his sleeves. He was a DJ afterall and party drugs were as common as a bottle of beer on a weekend.

I leaned over and stretched my arms to embrace him into my arms. I moved towards him and whispered ever so lightly. “You would want…” I began, then moving a little closer towards him. “… to hear me call your name.” I sank back into my seats and I saw a bulge in his trousers. “Now be a good boy.”


***
Certain conversations accomplish simpler things in life. Some conversations exist for the sole purpose of bringing a smile to the recipient. These are random conversations with total strangers. Sometimes it is nice to do something good by lighting up the life of someone. It does not matter if it lasts a second or an hour as long as the person laughed and was lost with you for a moment.


***
The queue was long. There were three people ahead of me. Not too surprising though since it was lunch hour after all. The guy ahead of me had strange things in his trolley. Actually he had a strange thing in his trolley times maybe ten or twelve.

“Why do you need so much sugar?” I asked as the conveyor belt became burdened with many packs of icing sugar. “Aren’t you sweet enough?”

The dark haired stranger turned around. His eyes were searching for the female voice who spoke to him. Was he dreaming again? Did the oriental chick with the cliché Chinese silk dress just said what he thought she did?

“My mother's baking Christmas cakes,” he said, packing his things. It was my turn at the till. I smiled at the cashier. "Hello!" I said, trying to cheer the cashier up a little. Poor cashier must have bleeped thousands of items in Tesco today, I thought to myself when the stranger handed me a torn piece of his receipt. I unscrambled it and saw random numbers sitting next to each other.

012.250.XXXX


***
There are however some conversations that are heartbreaking. These conversations loop in my head, like a migraine on a busy day at work. In their pasts, they burnt hearts and bled emotions, perhaps even tears for what could have been a different future.


***
“Please return the house keys to me,” he said. “You do not need them anymore.”

Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I shook my head. We were sat in a warm embrace in Arlanda Airport. It was the last summer I spent frolicking in the warm summer sunshine in bikinis, oblivious to everything around us. We flew everywhere together. We did everything together, with very few things being the exception. He was the love of my life and after the next sentence, he became a past tense in my life.

“No,” I cried. “I am coming back soon.” I swept the tears from my face. But I guess we both knew that it was the end. I was stubborn and I refused to let the person go. I refused to acknowledge that my heart had moved on to another and it was no longer in 19 Ynglinggatan, Odenplan. My heart has flown away and the only person who knew was the one who lost it.

“Alright,” he said, pacifying me a little with a little rub on the shoulders. He always rubbed my shoulders soothingly whenever I felt stressed. “You keep the keys and I will see you soon, flickkvan.”

“Ja. Jag vill se du snart. Jag älska dig, pojkvän.” I replied in Swedish.

I saw a stream of tears rolling down his cheeks as we kissed each other goodbye for the summer. There in Arlanda stood two stubborn lovers biding goodbye. They were not the first and they will never be the last.


***
Cheeky conversations. What can I say? Some men just have that naughty side and often these men endear themselves to me, for unknown reasons. Maybe I enjoy men who are self-assured and confident. I like my men strong and I like them especially when they have a way of making their desires known.


***
“You are naughty!” I exclaimed as we made drunken attempts to walk towards the bathroom. Seconds before that, he snaked his right arm around my waist, sneaking its five fingers under my blouse. I pushed him and giggled as he swung past me towards the door. His arms were fluttering about. He was trying to latch onto something to stop him from falling down.

For the convenience of this story, let’s assume his name is Johnny (after Johnny Depp). So Johnny caught hold of my right hand and we both tumbled into a heap of laughter. “Johnny is naughty… Johnny is naughty…” I sang, like how child would sing when a friend did something awfully wrong. My head nodded in tempo to the teasing song which I sang. “Johnny is naughty! Johnny is naughty!”

“Johnny might be horny,” he said, then swiftly repositioning himself on top of me. His slender nose was touching mine. “… but Johnny, naughty? NEVAR!” He kissed me and we rolled about the floor, wrestling and fighting. Fighting the fleeting emotions mixed to a heady concoction by the sweet taste of vodka. Wrestling to see if he could undress me faster than me dressing myself up again. There was pushing and shooving and lots of kissing. There were words exchanged, only to be reminded the next day.

“Do you remember what you told me last night?” I asked. His back was facing me.

“Every single word,” he said as he tapped his cigarette into the ashtray.


***
I believe that I have a romantic heart pumping blood through my veins and a pragmatic head sitting on my shoulders. Conversations - the good, bad, sad, mad – all embossed into my soul forever. Some are precious because they are secret conversations and others are replayed on days when I feel sad, so I would laugh and feel a little better.

Like the game of tennis, be sure you find the perfect partner to have your secret conversations with. Good conversations carry you far and give you an edge above your opponent. A bad conversation is like the tennis ball aiming for your eye. While black goes with almost everything, I doubt you'd like a black eye on New Year's Eve. Neither should you have a rotten conversation on the first day of the new year.

Wishing everyone a new year filled with hope and love. May all your desires be made known and granted in the coming 12 months!!!

With lots of love,
Otto

***
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