Legs

Something is dreadfully wrong with me today, and I feel the need to confess my sins before my impulses cause me to explode. They snuck up on me this afternoon, as I was savoring the delightful holiday atmosphere while driving my car, slowly, around the bay to Harbor Springs. I had taken the low road that hugged the water, to dodge as much holiday traffic as possible, which took me through the old Weque association, and it’s fairy-tale mansions and gardens. The association is a very old and wealthy community of summer homes, and by wealthy I mean wealthy. Madonna, for instance, has a place across the bay in the much less prestigious Bay Harbor community, as she can’t afford the likes of the Weque community, if that says anything about it. We’re talking old money here…you know the shadowy overlord corporations that hippies are always so fond of mentioning in their conspiracy theories? Well they’re real, and the people that run them have summer homes like anyone else…but something you wouldn’t expect is that these people are so far gone as far as money is concerned that they’ve somehow circled back around, and are completely normal. The people who are rich-rich, rather than wealthy-wealthy, tend to be defensive and aggressive ass holes, but the old money folks are surprisingly….great. You’d never know that the lady helping you change your tire was the heir to the Wrigley’s Gum fortune.

I drove slowly along, soaking up the summer sights; the lake to my left, the sidewalks and avenues and houses to my right; people strolling about, children darting through lawns, old time-worn stone gargoyles spitting spring water. I was listening to a piece of classical music that was turning me on, slightly. It was a bit of progressive orchestra that had been climbing and climbing, each moment a fulfillment and expansion on the moment before it, and just as it crested to delicious heights I hadn’t thought imaginable, I noticed a woman walking on the sidewalk.

It was a one second glance, at most, and the only part of her body that I actually saw was the backs of her legs from the thighs down. I seem to recall a dress, and the color pink, but really it was her skin that I noticed…and it’s here that I feel compelled to mention how uncharacteristic it is of me to draw any degree of stimulated attraction from a stranger, let a lone a single part of the body. Even the ones I actually notice, that most men would consider quite beautiful, generally do nothing for me as far as stoking my loins is concerned. But today…something about that woman’s legs flipped a switch, causing my usual possessive "women-as-fetish-objects" based style of attraction to invert, and instead I suddenly found myself wanting to consume the entire female face.

There are four types of skin that I round people off to, in order of least attractive to most; unhealthy pale, unhealthy tan, healthy tan, and healthy pale– the last of which being my ideal skin tone for a woman. There are few things that I tend to be particular about, when it comes to initial attraction, but skin quality is one of them. The woman I saw had the latter of such skins; creamy white with tiny hints of pink, and I wanted to lift her off the ground by the ankle and sink my teeth into her calf like a drumstick…a cannibalistic desire that I found myself suddenly helpless to for the remainder of the day. Any woman I saw that was even remotely attractive, I wanted to nail spread eagle to a wooden table and eat alive…slowly, maybe with a knife and fork, while they screamed. I found myself literally trembling under these urges as I tried to function as I normally do.

Now, I don’t mean to infer that I’m a homicidal psychopath who delights in the pain of women…it’s the act of utterly selfish consumption on my part that thrills me, and the pain they undergo in my imagination is merely incidental– an unavoidable product of the root desire. There’s no reason to be afraid, though, as I’m not the sort to violate the sanctity of another human being without invitation. I simply reached a level of stimulation and empowerment that pushed me over some form of "allowable-urges" threshold, and am in the current business of backing out of it…