Hello my delicious interwebs.
I hope you’re thoroughly enjoying sexandthe405.com. I’m sure you are. How can anyone not just love sinking their teeth into one of AV Flox’s salacious creations?
In my last diary entry, I mentioned that I’ve recently been reacquainted with the possibility of “falling in ridiculous mountain-moving spellbinding love, and not with danger, but with innocence.” I haven’t been able to expound too greatly on the subject with words, but I feel I’m at a point where I’d like to dissect and share how my rebirth came to pass. It happened during my recent leave of absence from Los Angeles, which was both heartbreaking and groundbreaking.
It all began when I met Christian. He possessed the first new set of hungry, eager, and irresistible eyes to enter my realm fresh off the heels of the Post-Chance Era.
We met on a rainy night in May. The streets were so wet that all their colors slipped into the sky, along with my relentless shades of purple. When Christian opened the door everything changed. The shape of my heart finally made sense again, and even the darkest parts of the city looked yellow.
It was a simple scenario of boy meets girl. Christian was younger than me, not by enough years for either one of us to feel strangely about our courtship, but just enough that he was not the slightest bit romantically jaded–such a refreshing treat. (My darling AV Flox would refer to him as “a fetus.”)
The carnal attraction between us was palpable. Never in my life have I been as aroused mentally and physically by a man, while fully clothed and rolling under the covers like a little kid. He was so present–more present that I have ever been. And he made me moan louder than any Chance encounter or jilted ex-lovers ever had.
Christian and I were very different people, but at some point in time we were of the same place, a safe harbor of calm blue waters, where in an instant a tidal wave of heated passion would pulverize all social graces. I used to think he saw me as some dark eccentric Hollywood heroine. To me, he was a golden boy sent from my guardian angel to save me from my old ways. Christian helped me remember a part of myself that had been lost for many years. He opened a gateway that exposed a soft vulnerable side I no longer thought I had. It was terrifying and exhilarating. It made complete sense, and it was absurd. For lack of a better phrase, it was sweet surrender.
The stories I shared with him about my time in different cities, especially Los Angeles always sent his head spinning. He would say things like:
“What do you mean there were multiple orgies going on in the next room, while you were signing contracts?!”
“So after you said that you wouldn’t have a threesome with the guy, he refused to finance the project? That’s ridiculous!”
One night while we were driving along the coast after an ideal day of music, food, and dancing, he grabbed my hand and looked at me with the purest, simplest, most gorgeous expression. I pulled over to the side of the road, and we started undressing each other, as the stars gleamed above us and the waves crashed next to us.
In some other little ditty, we were Jack and Diane. We were Benny and Joon. We were Harry and Sally. But in this world, we were two people on different journeys.
He is off sailing the seven seas becoming a man. And I am back in Los Angeles, finishing the business I started when all my dreams were still in front of me. I don’t know if I’d have the gusto to do so had I not met Christian, the one who made everything shiny and new again with his gentle hands, boyish enthusiasm, and strong Midwestern arms and shoulders. Thanks to him, I reached down into my bag of tricks and found some forgotten dreams, which I’m now determined more than ever to turn into gold.