I cannot even write this post without a cigarette.

*strikes match*

*lights cigarette*

*breathes deeply*

*exhales*

So...I’m not sure there’s an easy way to say this.

I realise that I’m not what you’d call Politically Nauseating Correct. I’m not one for sugar coating (Actually that’s not entirely true. But it’s a delicate art, requiring a steady hand and copious amounts of vodka.) (Um...never mind.). I like to be given things straight up (and curving slightly to the right) - which, in turn, is the only way I know how to give them.

So I’m just gonna tell you straight, my beloveds.

*another drag*

*exhales*

I may’ve just had the best sex of my life.

The Barreness Blog Moderator: *Tap tap tap.* Is this thing on?

Did you hear that, people?

Best.

Sex.

Ever.

Had.

BY ME.

For those of you who may be new here - we're not talking innocent school girl levels of experience.

I have had man or two in my life.

The Barreness Blog Moderator under his breath: Pfft. Or 200

*extinguishes cigarette on moderator's arm*

*moderator shuts up*

I can’t explain it, my lovelies.

I can't define it.

I wasn’t even aware of his existence before yesterday.

I-I’m not even sure if he was Spanish.

!!

But he was dark haired and blue eyed.

He was cocky without being arrogant. Strong but not boorish.

He tasted of wine and cigarettes.

He laughed like he meant it.

And he’s a painter.

*begins tallying the hot points*

*loses count*

And after the dancing, the laughing and the midnight tapas in a tiny restaurant to which I've never been before (and likely never will be again), there was the studio.

There were canvasses.

Of women, mostly.

All with amused, defiant expressions.

All nude.

I cannot wait to join them.

More wine.

And the smell of oil paint.

The feel of it on my skin.

Scratching and biting and screaming.

Lots and lots of cigarettes.

***

My darlings, may I introduce The Painter, my newest inductee.

In whose presence I didn't think of him at all.

At last...