The Traveler

The Traveler stopped by for the night. He needed a couch to surf and a free washing machine for his scant belongings before heading back out into the world of weary nomadic yetties. It's been 9 1/2 months since we last spoke. 9 and a 1/2 months since I last did his laundry and sent him off to parts unknown all freshly fluffed and folded. We laughed at that quite heartily over a steaming mug of homemade Chai with milk and honey. To think I used to be the nomadic one and now here I am, almost 2 years in the same place. It makes me smile and my skin itch all at once.

I cut his hair and gave him a much needed shave. All the while listening to his tales of abroad. The waves he surfed, the shanty he slept in during a storm, the old man he befriended, and the top less woman he swore reminded him of me. I love listening to his traveling tales. He can be so descriptive that it has me right there in the moment with him, feeling the sun on my upturned face, and the spray of ocean water on my skin. The Travelers stories help to ebb my wanderlust. Well that and I do adore a person  who can truly appreciate a good cuppa Chai with me.

Finally we settled down and watched the sci-fi channel for a bit while giggling over the fact that the only place The Traveler hasn't been to is the moon. We finally dozed off, or at least I did curled up against Traveler since he'd been playing with my hair. What can I say it's a weakness that completely relaxes me. I'll take the closeness and pampering while it's readily available before it's just dog slobber and bed head for days on end. I was just embracing my dream world of being ensconced in the biggest most comfy blanket when a deep very masculine voice brought me out of my happy place.

"Sex in zero gravity would be difficult as hell. I'm not even sure it's possible, do you think it is?," his baritone voice making his chest rumble against the side of my face. This serious inquiry at 3 a.m. reminding me why I never got much sleep when Traveler came around. We never fail to get into odd discussions in the wee hours of the morning. These are the issues that keep my Traveler - and thus, myself - up at odd hours. Yes, I've been accused of keeping others awake with silly talk. Unable to sleep many nights, leaving my mind to wander over such inane questions as "I wonder if Diesel would be any good in bed?" Or  "Would Angelina Jolie and I make a good couple?"  I however tend not to blurt them out when my sleep over partner is in some deep slumber.

Now, rather than actually enjoying gravity-assisted sex (as for now, I was wide awake. Wide awake with my face nestled into this firm very masculine chest and that chest should have at the very least be pinning me down with fewer hypothetical questions, and way more moaning athe this hour), he continued talking and now stroking my hair again. "I think it would probably be difficult. Obviously obtaining any traction would be problematic at best." Obviously,  I sighed in a mixture of hair stroking pleasure and sleep deprived an annoyance. The chuckle he let out shook his chest and made me want to yank his beard like a 14 year old. "It's not just about the grip princess," he continued to chuckle while tightening his grip in my hair. "Traction is important. you know that, right?" he continued, posing a question (unlike my Diesel query) that could actually be answered.

"Yes as I recall, traction does have it's merits," was my muffled response. "And if you promise not to laugh so hard at me again the next time I dare to be so risque as to wear a silk night gown on satin sheets, I promise to warn you before trying that move again so I don't fall ass first off the side of the bed...again. now...may I please go back into the bliss of dreamland?" "Oh it's possible I suppose, what were you dreaming about? I guess I would have to strap you down." My eyes widdened to the size of dinner plates before I screwed them shut trying to follow along with this broken portion of our conversation. "Maybe tie ourselves together, it's not like I haven't been handcuffed to you before," he continued with a grin as he spoke. It was one of those grins you could hear in his tone.

For a minute - maybe five - I was unable to answer, lost in a memory. As I tried to raise my head, those lumberjack arms tightened back around me. "Go to sleep princess," he murmured breaking me out of my moment. "You're gonna need it, tomorrow we can test out that silk and satin combo again. Although this time you won't need to worry about sliding anywhere." He'll be gone in another few days, until then I'm just going to say, "sweet dreams and yes Sir."