My Invisible Husband

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My Invisible Husband

Monday, December 05, 2005

A Kiss Aint Just A Kiss
By Guest Blogger Linda "Princess Dominique" Grosvenor

I remember my first kiss. Not that delicate lip to lip thing that we're all eager to experiment with in kindergarten before we learn to put up boundaries to ward off the opposite sex, but beyond that. I mean I remember the exact moment in time when a boy pulled me close and laid it on me, thick, sweet and heavy in that slow, yet deeply pressed way. I had always been a really shy girl with four huge plaits on my head, sometimes with pink ribbons but oftentimes without, but for me kissing was the most whimsical discovery I had ever made. I was in the back seat of my uncle's car riding to Brooklyn alongside a boy he was keeping for the weekend. The boy sat in the seat next to me, glanced over at me, smiled and asked if I knew what French kissing was. Immediately I thought it was kissing done in France and that the geographical locale alone is what made it French kissing, but being that I was older than he was, I just nodded and said, "yes." "So, let's French kiss," he said. He was cute, curly hair, brown skin, but I shook my head because I was sure that my uncle could see us from the mirror and I didn't want to get in trouble. Sure enough he persisted and I relented and although confused at first, I slowly, surely took a liking to the way the French did things. I was hooked! Needless to say we both enjoyed it so much that we kept at it for the rest of the ride and finally got caught, but oh, what memories I could string together based on kissing alone. Discovering it not only changed my life, but the way I loved and shortly after became the berometer of worthiness for any man who dared cross my path.

Linda "Princess Dominique" Grosvenor is the author of several novels and an acclaimed collection of poetry and hosts her an online version of her show at:

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