Sunday, September 02, 2007


Kofi Fosu Forson

I remember the first time I saw her picture. I thought she was hot. Hot! Not “hot” like I wanted her. “Hot” like… Yeah! I wanted in on her game! I wanted to be perfect!

I don’t know what it was. She was beautiful, yeah! That wasn’t it. She was electric. I didn’t believe a woman could look so wicked and still be motherly. I wanted to know her. She knew how to dress. She had a great figure. I wanted to know her. I didn’t know what I wanted from her. A friendship would have been fine. I think I even had that much just by looking at her photograph. Maybe we could go out on the town. It wouldn’t be difficult for the guys to find us. I am tall and she is well…Electric.

It was nothing but a photograph…but looking at it, I could tell she knew how to handle a man. She had that look. It could burn a hole in any man. So I looked at the picture and looked at it and looked at it. I tried to see if I could get turned on by her. I came pretty close. I kept focusing on her eyes. I started to breathe in and out. I didn’t imagine myself making love to her. It was more like breathing her energy.

We were introduced at a going away party for a colleague of ours. When you work in the same building, sometimes all you get to do is nod “hello.” She was standing before me. We were actually talking. What about? Shit! Most of the men around us had slept with the same women. There they were. We kept matching them, position by position, branch by branch. We stood in a corner, drinking, looking perfect. I could taste her breath by smelling it. It was intoxicating!

That evening we stood next to the bathroom sink, talking business, watching the women walk in and out of the stalls. It felt like high-school. I wanted to smoke…with her. I even had some pot in my bag. I kept looking at her. She was talking like we had planned this meeting in the bathroom all along. I remember holding the door for her to walk out.

She was everything I had imagined. I’m a serious woman. I’ve got a job I love. I’m not lesbian. But honestly, don’t women get away with a few things every now and then. I kissed her on the lips hello. I grabbed her ass when she told a funny joke and she couldn’t get herself to stop laughing. We didn’t make love. We did however sleep naked in the same bed. It was an honor. I never touched or kissed her. It was one of the most enjoyable times I’ve ever had sleeping. Whenever I wanted to touch her, I pulled back. I wasn’t in love with her. I was in love with everything about her. There’s a difference. I didn’t want to make love. I wanted to be loved.

Copyright Horatio Monologues

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

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