dirty girl

I woke Sunday morning and pulled on the same clothing I’d worn out for cocktails with my lover the night before, brushed my teeth, finger-combed through my bed head and walked out the door to meet a friend for breakfast. I felt a little thrill, remembering those college walk-of-shame mornings so many years ago, and I reveled in the scents and sensations:  the taut dry feeling on my skin where our commingled fluids dried and his scent, our combined smells, clinging to my skin and clothing. I felt blissfully dirty and even a little slutty and I absolutely loved it.