some would say that
        it's not quite right to think of my mother at a time like
        this,
but it's not like *that*.
i mean,
        *please*.

no, my mother once got my lover to try tongue.
oh--
        not like *that*.
        is that all you ever think about?
tongue, i mean the food.
as i was saying--

he tried tongue for her once.
well,
        he wasn't my lover then,
        not in fact.
he was my, um,
        what *would* you have called us?
        (nothing polite, according to our captain.
        "hey you two" was as good as we got.)
my friend, let us say.  my
        other-half-of-me,
        which he was even then,
and the point is, he didn't think he'd like tongue
        until he tried it
        for my mother
        and found out
        that he did like it
        after all.

just like, you recall, green eggs and ham.
        sam-i-am.
        or my mother was, then.
        sam-she-was, but that doesn't
rhyme.

he's like that.
        stubborn.
it's okay, it really is, because
so am i.
(hah!)
i can out-stubborn him,
        usually.
(it's a great feeling
        when i do.
it's like out-staring a cat.)

i did it this time.
        *i* convinced him to try
        tongue.
        my tongue.
yes, that's right.
*that* kind of tongue.

i parted his lips and slid my tongue into his
        mouth
and he liked it,
        he liked it after all.
he moaned into my tongue, and that was for me to like.
that was for me,
        for all the times i'd dreamt of licking the sweat from his skin
        and not done it.
it was also for all the times he'd known that,
        and not wanted it.

how did i do it?
i confess,
it puzzles me a little.

first i saved his life
        five or six times,
        maybe more,
        depending on how you count these things.
it's a odd start to a seduction, sure,
but have you ever had your life saved?
it's sexier
        than you might think.
(this i know from personal experience--
        too much up-close-and-personal with danger--
        but the adrenaline rush is
        really
        quite addictive.
besides, as i said, it can be
        sexy.)

he was properly grateful,
        almost.

so then i made him breakfast.
yes, out of order again--
        ordinarily, one makes breakfast the morning
        *after*.
ah, well, what's a guy to do?
it got him used to the idea of waking up with me
        which was a start,
        although then the roommate thing happened,
        and--
roommates, that's awkward.

sleeping with your roommate can be tricky.
so,
        although i got to watch him shower,
        no nookie.
no tongue,
        not of that sort.

this was getting frustrating.
frustrated, i took the direct approach.
i said,
        "man, i want you.
        i want to kiss you and slip you some
        tongue."
well!
he was terribly embarrassed.
he didn't think he'd like that,
        not at
        all.
i tried not to be offended.
i, justifiably, am proud of my tongue.
i thought he'd like that
        very much,
        and said so.
(have you seen the way he watches my mouth?
        he'd like it.
        i knew it.)

still, i don't know what changed his mind.
maybe he realized that i really do
        love
him.
maybe he realized that he really does
        love
me.
perhaps he watched my mouth
        too closely for comfort.
there might have been adrenaline involved,
or the settled intimacy of breakfast.
for all i know, he too
        thought about my mother
        and her tongue
        and green eggs and ham.

i parted his lips and slid my tongue into his
        mouth
and he really did like it,
        after all.

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