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Did you come here from Alison’s? If so, I’m impressed that you figured it out so quickly. Or perhaps you’re just here by accident, and don’t know what I’m talking about. (If that’s the case, I encourage you to check out her Boudoir Blog (is it bad that I can never spell that word? I have to look it up. Boudoir, not blog.)).

A few weeks ago, the gorgeous and talented KM and I rented a hotel room, dragged everything and anything that was even the least bit sexy out of our closets, and spent a sunny, gorgeous afternoon shooting photos. It was such a pleasure to have those stolen moments, to pay attention to the light and the fabrics, to turn on the music we loved, to drink coffee and taste chocolate, to remember that while we are older, we are not old. We will never be old.

Yes, I know this attitude is considered a pipe-dream. I do. But I don’t care. Forty is not what it used to be. By the time I hit 50, that won’t be what it used to be either. Sure, I know it’s not cool to be over the age of 22 in our culture and dare to show your body. Dare to claim your sexiness. Your lust. Your desire.

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Fuck.

That.

All the signs are pointing toward yes. And if there’s anything that I can really take from all of my recent experiences concerning age and sex and desire, it’s this: The only road blocks I put up are my own. The only “I can’t”s come from my mouth and brain. My body is only part of my appeal, only part of my sexuality, and a small part at that.

What are you doing today? Climb into bed. Sink between the covers. Shred the sheets. Twist and turn. Pant and gasp and settle and sleep. Awaken anew…

Kiss kiss bang bang, s.

“Bed is the poor man’s opera.” ~Italian proverb

PS – If you’re in love with hotels, and sex in hotels and just hotel beds in general, you’ll love Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, which features tons of great hotel-sex stories. Or, check out the Do Not Disturb blog here.

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