But every once in a while, I want to get into some mischief. I want to be irresponsible, shocking, daring or inappropriate just for the sheer fun of it.
And because getting into mischief is sexy.
As I’m writing this, I’m thinking about so many things that Parrot and I have done that have seemed a little edgy or daring, even if they didn’t appear to be that way.
In particular, I’m thinking about that time we went to this bar in one of those random towns along Hwy. 1 in California between San Francisco and Mendocino squeezed between the mountains and the rocky Pacific coast. Population 374, hardly any Internet or cell phone coverage, and the primary industry is pot. The only place we could find suitable for dinner was this hip little bar with a small but awesome sandwich menu and a decent list of craft beers. The half dozen or so people in the bar, including the cute and artsy-looking 30-something bartender, were all locals from all from somewhere else who had settled in this town because they wanted to get away.
While we were talking with the locals and waiting for our sandwiches, out of nowhere, Parrot tells the bartender, “Do you know that she’s one of the top sex bloggers on the Internet?”
It threw me for a loop. Talking about my sex blog in small talk isn’t anything normally do. But I recovered quickly. I figured since no one at this bar knew us and we were only passing through, I was in on his game.
“Oh, really?” the bartender said. She pulled out her phone on the chance she got a connection and punched in the address to my site. She did and said that my site looked pretty cool. She read for a few moments. Each time she swiped to a new page, her smile broadened.
“This is really cool,” she said, grinning at me.
Parrot edged a little closer, close enough to rub calves in code as if we were exchanging secret grins and giggles.
“Do you write science fiction sex stories too?” the drunk guy next to us slurred.
“Not really my thing,” I said. He took a breath as though wanting to pursue the topic, but closed his mouth and looked into his glass when the bartender gave him a sharp look.
“I’m Chloe,” she said, extending her hand across to me. I took it. She seemed reluctant to let go of my hand. She kept her eyes on me for a moment longer as she shook hands with Parrot.
Chloe seemed to be mulling over her own ideas as we chatted over the bar. She kept glancing at her phone, flicking through articles and images I had posted to my blog. A customer banged his empty beer glass on the bar. She pulled herself away from us and drew him another pint. She came right back.
“I’m going to take a smoke break out back. Why don’t you guys join me?”
We took our glasses and followed her to a small, cozy patio behind the bar. Parrot pulled three cigars from his shirt pocket. He offered her one.
“I’m just going to stick with this for now,” she said, lighting a Marlboro. “Those guys get pissed when I leave them for more than five minutes.” She smiled as she said it. Her regulars were obviously her friends. “Maybe we could get together another time, when I’m not working?” Parrot and I looked at each other.
“Let’s see how things look tomorrow,” I said.
Chloe nodded, stubbing out her half-smoked cigarette and pushing back her chair.
“Sure,” she said. “Tomorrow!” She went back into the bar and her thirsty regulars.
On the way back to our room at the inn, Parrot said, “I really liked that bartender. I could see inviting her back to our room for a threesome … if we were into that kind of thing.”
I smiled. I appreciated his fantasy. I’ll admit that it got my mind rolling, too. It was another spark of mischief that ignited the fire in our bed that night.
Mischief doesn’t have to be crazy as getting gangbanged by five guys in a bathroom stall in a night club. (Power to you if that’s your thing.) For some people, it can be something like using a sex toy or watching porn together for the first time. Maybe it’s pulling off a pair of sexy panties and handing them off to your lover at a fancy white tablecloth restaurant. Or maybe it’s flashing a trucker or giving head on the road.
No matter how old you are or grown up you have to be in your everyday life, we need to let out that perverted inner child every once in a while. Think about those times you played Truth or Dare as a kid or felt up a guy or girl underneath the bleachers at the high school football stadium. Those times were fun because they were daring and half the thrill was because it was something you got away with. Chances are that you smile about those 20, 30 or more years later.
If you smile about thoughts like that, it’s proof that perverted inner child is still in you. Why deny yourself and your sex life from mischief like that? It’s okay. No one has to know except you and your partner.