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Rose Noire Copyright 1997

April 28

Dear Sammie:

I went through your things today and packed them up. I guess you're not
coming back. You didn't really leave much behind: a few shirts, your toys
and a void deep inside of me. You and I were together for three years.
Can you imagine something so good ending so bad? It's my fault, I know.

I came across some of your, our, favorite toys and I caressed them and
smelled of them hoping to find some trigger for all those good memories.
The one you loved most, the strap on, still had the faint scent of sex. My
sex. One of the last times we spent together was with me on my knees and
you behind me fucking me doggy style.

You know, I still can't figure out what happened that night you went
away. Being drunk was no excuse for what I did. Mikey had come over to
keep me company 'cause you had to work late and we watched movies. Then we
started drinking a little, and then we started making out a little. If it
makes you feel better, I wanted to feel your firm breasts in my hands
rather than his hairy chest. It was his dick which caught my attention and
I just had to know what it felt like to be fucked by the real thing. I'd
never felt the firmness of a man between my legs before, only Keith's
tongue on my eighteenth birthday. Now, six years later, I wanted to feel
what it was like.

I hadn't expected you to get off early. Really, we were just fooling
around. But, I can imagine how you must have felt walking in on us that
way. I said I was sorry so many times. I said it was you I wanted, while
I cried all that night, begging you to forgive me. I still don't
understand why you would begrudge me that one time.

Well, I packed up your things and put them in a box. The box is in the
storage room behind the Christmas tree, under the box of ornaments. I
labeled the box, "Toys." I only hope next Christmas when I see it, I'll be
opening it with you next to me.



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