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my confidence intervals

When I first arrive at a conference – jet lagged and exhausted – I usually have my head down on the task in hand. However there is always one –other fresh new arrival who catches my eye. And you know how it is in a crowd of 25,000 people he keeps popping up again and again – in the queue for the abstracts book – waiting for a coffee at the same time in the morning – getting on the same conference bus .

It’s funny how that new country, old friends, jet leg combination always gets me thinking about new adventures. Especially, when I’m surrounded by discussions of multiple concurrent partnerships, migratory sex, cross border transgressions. It just gets me into the mood for some of my own. It sounds so good coming out of the mouths of those so serious intellectual epidemiologists. Makes me want to try it again and again. And where better than AIDS 2010.

So back to X.  This time I’m standing by my poster. Heaps of people streaming past.  And then him. He nearly passes. Then pauses and turns. God he looks better close up. I guess West African – probably French speaking. Shoot my French is rusty. He’s statuesque. Smart looking, beautiful shoes. Damn I love a man who chooses decent shoes. That’s a “can’t resist attribute”. I lean back against the coolness of my plastic poster. Hope that it cools my blush.

I study him as he studies my poster. He’s concentrating line by line. With that academic focus that gets me really wet.

“Your confidence intervals are good”

His accent is amazing. His English perfect. I’m a little dumbstruck. And decide to take it all as a compliment. And maybe there is a hint of tease in his eyes – which are now looking at me.

Thank God for the poster stand to hold me up.


“Thanks. I tried to get it right”

He’s cute.  I want to run my tongue down his cheekbone. Along his neck. See his careful eyes roll up into his head. Hear that squeeze of a gasp that signifies the tipping point of his desire.  Feel him catching his balance with a hand on my waist. He is so poised so cool so calm. Want to see his eyes wander in the plenary to me – to my legs – to the back of my neck. And know that he is thinking about what he will do to me after the session. I want to tease that medical aloofness and hear him whisper that he wants me bad. Real bad.  I want to rumble right through his confidence intervals.