Flying into Cold Windows I perched on the window that frigid January afternoon, the chill mincing its way through the double paneled glass, thinking of nothing but fair lake waters and chatting with the mosquitoes and moths over torch lites and meals of leftover picnics and cookouts from nites before. I just stood there, letting the cold air climb up my legs until it reached my body, causing an erection I never thought possible. Cold air? Erection? Never. Hell, I was pretty unaware that I had a penis, much less that it would erect. And then, she walked in. What was I to do? Here I was, minding my own business, in fact, I was pretty much enjoying myself and the newfound wonder I found hidden between my crunchy legs and nearly moth eaten wings, and she just walked in. I wasn’t about to stand for it.

Carrying this red and blue matted object in her hand, she walked over to me as though she had something to say. A bone to pick. Like I’d forgotten to put the toilet seat down or something, cept, I don’t use the toilet, so it was obviously something else. Maybe that was it- I don’t use the toilet. Who knows with women?

But my eye caught on that patriotic symbol she was carrying along side her. I’d seen that thing before. She was always waving it around in hand like she did the newspaper in the mornings I buzzed over her coffee grounds. I never understood, so I just flew away and let it pass. Sometimes she’d follow me into the study, but mostly, we both let the abnormal times like those go by without notice. But this time, oh no, I wasn’t about to let this time pass. She was on my territory now. She was trespassing on my ground, and she was going to pay. (Had I not just discovered this new projection from beneath my frail body, I would have just flown away, but she was interrupting this special time for me, and not only was this fight a sign of my dominance in this household, it was a fight to save my humility.)

So, anyway, she comes waltzing in with this red and blue flat thing on a wire handle that looks pretty enticing now that I think about it, letting it swing at her side like some sword and scabbard in medieval times. Oh, back in the day…. i digress. So, she comes waltzing in . . . oh yeah- she is Maria and she lives in this humble abode of mine. I let her take a room here in the off seasons and she feeds me nice home cooked meals of ramen and easy mac. I remember once she left a whole pan on the burning coals for me and boy was I thankful. I even let her stay a few weeks into the hot months when she couldn’t get her clothes to fit her right. I remember now, she would stand in front of that mirror for hours every afternoon before leaving, turning this way and that and pulling those garments tighter and looser in different places on her curvy body. Now that I think about it, that was pretty enticing too.

So, Maria strolls on into my room, while I’m sitting here enjoying the scenery, but mostly the icy air riding up my thigh, and she just starts screaming obscenities at me- like its my fault she walked in on my erection. Excuse me lady, but I was here first. She started swinging that blue and red thing around her head like she was ashamed to see such a sight, like she was scared- now that I look back at it, I know it was just her sexual repression working itself out- just my luck.

First she hit the pane beside me, the vibrations caused me to fly up and land on the next. And then she swung at that one. She was playing a game, and I was determined to win. Little did I know the pain would be so pleasurable.

So, obviously, I didn’t want to leave this nice frigid windowpane that was giving me such a protrusion, but what was I to do- just stand there and take it? So I flew down to the notebooks lying sporadically around her desk- Literary Theory, The Best American Poetry of 2000, and my favorites, The Human Brain, and The Book of Questions: Sex and Beyond. I lightly walked onto the open page of The Book of Questions: Sex and Beyond and run across a question that will forever be a helper in the forging of my future life.

“What do you find to be the most pleasurable form of pain in bed?”

At first, I just stood there, stunned at such a question. Now that I had a penis I could actually think of these things, but never, even in my wildest dreams with me and Maria on a Key West beach sunbathing in the 110 heat, me crawling through the beads of sweat slowly gathering in the crevices of her oh-so-well endowed body, did I ever imagine pain. What was pain exactly? Hello- its pain you asshole. How could pain be pleasurable? And then she hit me, right smack dab on the forehead, while I was standing between the “pain” and “bed”. She hit me. And oh did it feel soo good.

I stood up for more and flew around her head hoping she would catch me. I even landed on her shoulder to make it easier for her. Her nice chenille sweater felt so good under my body, but my erection was dying fast due to the lack of chill. Becoming aware of this fact I rushed back over to the window for a quick fix and then back onto Maria’s hand. She just wouldn’t hit me again. Yeah, here and there a brush of air would glide up my back and my little visitor would return, but mostly they were just vain attempts. She was torturing me by not catching me and I was getting sick of it.

What did I do next you ask? Exactly what you think I’m about to do. I sat myself right down in between the parameters between red and blue on the pleasure giver and waited for her to acknowledge me. But would she? No. She just threw me down on the dusty floor and stormed out like she was the one left with blue balls. Pulease.

But heh, here I was, left with my nice cold windowpane again, and soon, little mister would come out again to play, and this time, I knew how to please him.