How to explain the ring, wasn’t a problem.  It was late and the night was as hot as you were. I started flirting with you when I saw your tattoo and you flirted back when you saw my boots. It was Basho in Japanese and when I read it outloud you climbed onto my lap and kissed me deep on the lips.

The party was raging around us and we found a corner to keep kissing.  You pulled my hand between your legs and told me you wanted to feel my wedding ring inside you.  I started to tell you the story and you cut me off.  You were soft and furry and I had three fingers inside you in moments.

Your kisses tasted like chocolate stout and I wanted to crawl inside you and stay there.  I wanted to bring you home and hold your face in my hands until we slept, but instead we kissed on the couch and ignored the world.

I didn’t see you after that night, but I remember listening to you come. I remember hearing you whisper in my ear, calling me sweet names tenderly and pretending we had always been together.

The ring wasn’t a problem and there was nothing to explain.  As you left the party hours leter you kissed me deeply and whispered, “I love you.”

—Guy New York