"Oh hell I've got dozens" I said. "Loads! Which ones do you want to hear, the tame ones, crazy ones, the middle of the road not too ridiculous ones?"
There we were a couple of days later at her place. She's laughingly called herself a slut for the picture session, the stories I had sent her and her domineering me in her bedroom.
"So do all of these fantasies of yours involve me? She said.
"Yeah, a lot do, well most do, actually all but the one about the pole dancing midget in a cop uniform!"
"Perv" she said laughing, "so come on then let's hear another one."
"You have to understand," I said, "These are fantasies, they are not necessarily something I would carry out, they're not something that I would force, they are things I think up when there is no one to scratch that itch and I have to please myself," I said. "But if you are sure, I have a tame one first you are fulfilling it now."
"What? Me sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine? That one is fulfilled every week!"
"No, me telling you my fantasies, I have fantasised about that?"
"Do you have any idea of how weird you are? I mean weird with a capital FUCKED UP! OK we have a couple of bottles tell me a fantasy then"
"Dear god I'm horny," I thought, but this has been a dream of mine and its coming true. I'll tell her but there is a shyness or embarrassment, no that's not right, it's a fear of it not being real. That it's a dream."
"O.K. you asked, here goes"
[The fantasy begins]
"You come around to my place, you're angry, really fucked off. I come out with one of those witty quips that sometimes irritate you. One that you take seriously and treat as a sign that I don't understand. You believe I can't understand because I'm just like whomever else it was that pissed you off. I become the target of your anger. Waving your arms about, you shower me in the shit that you feel everyone is throwing at you.
"If only people would shut the fuck up, stop making my life a mess, do what they say and mean what they say."
"I always do," I tell you raising my voice, in that slightly desperate manner that I adopt when things are going bad for you. I hate you being like that. You never understand how special you are to me, how much I want the best for you and how I would do anything to get you to where you deserve to be.
Getting mad you tell me, "OH YOU ALWAYS DO, DO YOU?" in that snarky manner that infuriates me, Good ol' Mister I'm you friend, I'll help, I'm there, what can I do for you, it's fucking pathetic. You make yourself out as someone that has something different to offer in life, but you don't you're the same as him, them and everyone else."
That stings but, with the saintly patience of one that has been through the wringer of Gypsy's biting temper I carry on.
"Ok, so I can sit here and you can shout at me and that's fine, go for it, really, or you can tell me what the problem is. I don't say I can help, but I'd rather you shout about that than my inadequacies."
"Oh fuck off and stop being so fucking self-righteous" you say.
"Listen lady, if I had someone to fuck I would fuck off to them, right now all I've got is an angry woman telling me I'm worse than useless and half the worth of anyone deemed worthy of your spit."
"What?" you say. "look I'm in a really bad place right now, it's not you, I'm just..."
"You're just what? What's up, what's the problem?" I ask.
"I'm frustrated, Kevin's fucked off, Albi is all but useless and Pete, well Pete's a doos. (A great South African term by the way)
"So what's the problem? "People? Is that what you are saying"
"People. Work, life, the lot of it... and I need a fuck!" you say with a frustrated look.
"huh"