Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Lust at first sight

Brown eyes soft as velvet. A firm handshake and direct gaze. A tall, lean physique and true presence. Sometimes it takes but one conversation on the telephone—his baritone voice resonating through the phone lines to set my heart to quaking—or a mere handshake, fingers barely brushing, to recall that the world is populated by men who could have been the one.

For those of us who are married and are not about to risk all for the thrill of a new romance—the accelerated heartbeat and liquid warmth, the wonder, beauty and excitement of passion discovered anew—do romance novels fill the void? Is that what I should tell myself when I think of the man newly separated from his spouse who is selling his house to me? A romance novel, a glass of good wine, and a bath? Tell me, girls, what shall I think about after we've moved in and I sink into my new claw-foot bathtub, the same one he, too, no doubt enjoyed?



Blogger Stacy Dawn said...

Sorry, I stuttered at clawed-foot tub, sometimes much better than melting brown eyes. And yes, the faithful wives only have romance stories left to remind and thrill us of the ones who might have been but weren't. Why do you think I write them? LOL

6:18 pm  
Blogger Annie said...

Just picture him playing with his rubber duck, picking his nose and blowing wind bubbles in the water, and you'll get over it.

7:37 pm  
Blogger India said...

Eva (Imogen fixes her with a stern eye) It's high time you started writing again. There's a feisty English rose stuck back in 1870-something and awaiting a good seeing to from her glorious Canadian lost boy. Channel those lustful thoughts in the right direction!

(Crushes are so inconvenient. But isn't it good to know you're still alive?!!)

9:49 am  
Blogger Eva said...

Yes, alive and lusty I may be, but writing little beyond procedures these days. Maybe things will change once I have access to that bathtub, although I think Annie may have spoiled it for me...sigh.

5:50 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


If you are ever in Vancouver call me!


11:29 am  
Blogger Eva said...


2:18 pm  
Blogger Annie said...

That'll teach you to have such extra-marital thoughts, Eva. Although 'Anon' may have got you mixed up with the lap dancers who advertise on Google under the same name as us.
Quack! Quack!

5:54 pm  
Blogger Brown said...

Stacy may have stuttered at the claw foot tub, but I unfortunately stumbled (no pun intended). I gues I'm just not a man in a claw-foot bathtub kind of brings back memories of a drag-queen friend and fighting for the last of the hair gel (he won).

Give me a shower stall. One with clear glass doors, now fogging from the hot water and steam...let me open the door and see the soap bubbles cascade down the hard angles and planes of his body, sliding and caressing the corragated muscles of his six-pack and hiding in the dark curls of chest hair...

I must say though that a baritone voice and a firm handshake might sway me to liking clawfoot tubs...especially the firm handshake. It positively boggles this feminine mind to think of what else about this handsome stranger can be firm...although must say, Annie has a point.

Part of the fantasy is the mystery...for all we know, it may not be the duck that he liked to squeeze whilst in the tub.

Oops, there's the door. Husband is home, firm handshake, baritone voice, prescence, and blue eyes not brown...must go and see him. Have a sudden urge for a shower!!

1:30 am  

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