This is a response to A Midnight Letter To Fran
by
Coydelight
To Pat with Love, F. A. Williams
December 22, 2000
11:45 pm
Dearest Patricia,
_____A funny thing was happening to me while you sat in the
barber's chair at Moe's this morning. As I looked through the glass, I was wishing I had it in me to
just walk in there and go off on you... ask you what the hell was up with that little missive of
yours, but all the energy was suddenly drained from my body. Seeing Moe create perfection on
you as he trimmed your soft, short brown hair and arching your eyebrows to compliment your
already perfect face, I knew I could do nothing but sit in my parked car across the street and
watch, wanting you.
_____ Pat, really, you have no idea what your sexy ass does to an
innocent bystander, do you? I mean I was wet and warm all over just watching you, but, don't go
tripping and thinking I was following you or something today, because I know how your paranoid
ass is. I had just come out of the drug store paying my electric bill and there was your car parked
crooked on the curb, and there you were, still youthful and beautiful as hell sitting in the window
at the barber's shop. And even as I sat there watching you in action- live in the flesh, I still held
tight to your letter, massaging your captivating words, imagining us together again coming
together as beautifully as we used to. Then I remembered, I'm still mad as hell with you!
_____This morning all that didn't matter though, because that
black skirt of yours was killer, and let me tell you that it was quite pleasing watching you cross
and uncross your thick and perfectly brown thighs. It amazes me how you just sat there all
nonchalantly exposing just enough of that sexy tattoo to keep them all guessing but still keep
complete and utter control of your sophistication as if you were not doing a damned thing. Of
course, I would have much rather seen you on different terms and under different circumstances,
but this thing came over me so suddenly, and I couldn't very walk in and take you right there in
the chair, so I just lay back and let my mind and fingers work.
_____As I let my gaze travel from your small, uniquely curved
nose, full lips, then to your beautiful diamond laced neck and perfect supple 36D breasts, I found
myself forgetting all I said I wouldn't do and began to picture our next meeting. You on your
lunch break in your hip hugging gray pantsuit, me in my tight black pants and white top down at
the studio. Our tongues would meet before any other part of ours bodies did and we slide to the
floor, our legs weakened and buckling beneath us. Yes, it would be lovely.
_____But, you were across the street and I was slouched in my
car, diving down further in the seat every time you looked my way. So, you see, I couldn't exactly
wait for the meeting that I wasn't exactly sure would come. So, for ten whole minutes, I sat
slouched in the front seat of my car with my mouth hung open and my head thrown back and both
my hands shoved down the front of my unbuttoned shorts (the short, short khaki ones that you've
always claimed as your favorite). With my eyes tightly shut, and the most wicked image of you in
my mind, I rubbed my sex firmly and anxiously as a result of the excitement and frustration you
left me with. Before I knew it, I was throbbing in a major way and I had developed a nice little
wet spot in my panties. You were more than a hundred feet away and still, you had me hanging by
a string
_____When I finally pulled away from the curb -because it looked
like you were almost done in there and I couldn't let you catch me out there like that- guess what
song was playing on the radio? Victim! Remember us, newly twenty-one and tipsy and singing
along with Miss Thang Candi Staton at the Soul Fest back in '79? Shit, we were barely old
enough to drink and there we were slipping in the concert with a full pint of vodka, sneaking and
pouring it in our little Styrofoam cups. We were jamming and doing the bump, sweating away our
brand new blowouts, man, those were the days. So when I heard the song, I turned the car radio
way up and started singing along with girlfriend at the top of my lungs as I was riding down Main
Street remembering that night of both of our birthdays. So, I just had to stop by the liquor store
and grab me a bottle of Absolut for old time's sake and the rough night I knew I had ahead of
me.
_____I must admit, you somehow you do look different than that
hot, dry summer night three five months ago when I saw you last. You still sport the same short,
sassy haircut that I recommended for you because it exposed all of your long, pretty neck and
your curves are still smooth and womanly, and your legs still look damn good exposed, but
somehow you look more well put together (if that's possible). I mean, you look like for once in
your life you really got your shit in check. I know that you told me as much in your letter, but if
you know anything about me, you know that I'm not all that big on words on paper. But running
across you like that today was like some kind of reinforcement and now I'm really checking myself
and wondering if I was too sudden, too premature, too cold.
_____So, when I got home I poured myself a drink and reread
your letter for the tenth time... as if the words would reform and say all the things I had been
afraid of... that you had made the right decision. That you meant it when you said you never
wanted to see me again and that I meant it when I said I could and would forget your trifling ass.
But your words told a completely different story and at first, I was having a real hard time
handling it; I needed to let it all sink in, but then I got emotionally carried away. You hit me out of
left field with this, when all I was trying to do was go to the mailbox to scoop up my bills. You
always knew how to do it, go back on everything that you've said and fuck up my mind when I'm
just trying to get it together, even when you swore those were not your intentions. That first time
reading it I became misty and sentimental, then mad, then moist imagining you naked and horny
pouring out your heart to me in the bathroom that night. I considered doing several things when I
saw your name and return address, like leaving it unopened and returning it plainly addressed to
your husband or maybe ripping it to shreds and then burning it piece by piece.
_____But, my curiosity got the best of me and what if this was I
had been wanting, wishing for, waiting for? The thing is, I never really wanted to walk away. I
never wanted to say fuck you and wish all those ill and awful things to happen to you, but you
forced me out of your life after I had been a welcome part all this time and you drew the
bitterness out of me. I mean you fucked my head up, sending that letter the way you did.
_____So, here I am two weeks later, and now I can't sleep. I
guess the only difference between us two is that I don't have to sneak off into another room in the
house. I can stay right here in my bed with my good buddy Verne the vibrator and get my rocks
of, but you, oh you have a live body over there that I'm sure you could get to fuck you if you
really, truly wanted to be fucked by him. You don't need tools and raunchy photos of me to get
you off (although I'm sure they help). The heat and sweetness of your body is persuasion within
itself, you know. But here's a thought, the next time you want to steal away with your 40th
birthday present from me, why don't you call me up and we can use them and talk sexy to each
other and cum simultaneously? I don't even want to think about the things you might be doing
over there with my picture right now because already I've found myself rising at the precise time
you claim you sneak away with my photo and finger fucking myself to sublime ecstasy. No fair,
Patricia, you never let me finish your photo shoot. That hot, little break we took? I know it left us
both wrecked and spent, but I wanted to get back to snapping photos of you with your clothes
falling off piece by piece. Damn, that was a good day, and I didn't even get paid. Well, not
monetarily, anyway!
_____I have considered your suggestion every minute since I first
opened your letter, and although right now I have every reason to tell you no I don't want to get
into this again, it's still so obvious to me that I still really do. If you had told me all these things
five months ago, I'm sure I would have said that you had made your choice and now you must
deal with it. But then came our stubborn silence when I couldn't come and I couldn't call I had a
chance to look at our situation from every angle. I know that I agreed that somehow our split was
all for the best because I didn't want to deal with the man, the kids, and all your other bisexual
blues, but what I have accepted is, husband or no husband, I want you. And Pat, even after
everything, I love you as much as I did when I first saw you in those cute red gym shorts at
Hawkins High. So, if you feel you can risk everything for another shot at us, I guess I can forgive
your brief bout with insanity. That is, if you are sincerely ready for the change.
_____But, this does mean that I can change my mind, too, right,
even though I'm not quite sure I could even handle an encounter with you at this point? You
know, because I can't be breaking completely down in front of you. If only you knew how many
nights I couldn't sleep thinking that he might be over there spreading his man love all over you. I
mean I understand about the vows and all. Hell, I stood right there beside you when you took
them and when you cried all those tears of joy, I held you tightly and told you congratulations
instead of saying what was really on my mind like, "Pat, this man will bring you nothing but
pain." But I didn't because, first and foremost, you were my friend and I didn't want to put you in
an awkward position, and besides, I was still deep in the closet myself. I always knew you wanted
me (smile).
_____Yeah, I hear you when you say he won't even go there with
you anymore, but it's the principle of the thing. It's the fact that you're his wife, and on nights
when I'm on the other side of town and you're there horny as hell, he can get it. You can say what
you want, but a warm body and soft real lips beat out a piece of battery operated machinery every
time. And no matter what I say I can handle, I'd be frantic wondering if I'm enough for you
anymore. I'm just a woman you know.
_____So, if you are ready, I mean really ready, I will call, but I
won't tell you when. Just know that when you pick up the receiver and you hear the soft tones of
The O'Jay's banging out Forever Mine, it is I holding the phone with one hand and lightly licking
my fingers and teasing my cunt with the other. It is I breathing fast and heavy and moaning softly
as I push my manicured fingers deeper inside myself. You will be frustrated and wet, I know,
trying to picture what's going on over here on in this brownstone on 57th street, but you will not
hang up. You will place your firm, pretty ass on the edge of the bed, peel off all of your clothes,
and lay back. On verse two, you will close your eyes and see me coming to you, my body just
inches above yours and ready. Your will feel my tongue trace a path from your forehead to your
feet and you will reach out for me, but I will be only a song playing over the telephone. Then, you
will explode. If you make it through this, maybe I will consider meeting you somewhere when it's
convenient for us both and we can do some serious make up fucking. I'll bring the candles, oils,
that CD and your favorite punishment supplies. You just bring your short red dress and bare ass
and your readiness for anything.
__________I long,
__________Frances
THE END?
Copyright © 2000. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.
