Dreaming of Adam Ant

I dreamt of Adam Ant the other night. I find it strange that I never fancied him as a teenager, even though the Ants were my favourite band. Inexplicably, and with a fine ignorance of sexual persuasion, I was mad about Jon Moss, drummer with Culture Club and Boy George's lover at that time. Not of course that there is any reason why a straight girl can’t fancy a gay man, although it does make the chance of scoring even less likely than with your average schoolgirl/pop star crush.

I recently read Adam's autobiography and have been re-listening to his early albums, which may explain why he has been on my mind. I also watched Jubilee, a dreadful film but one which showcases Adam’s beauty to perfection. I have to condemn my teenage self for a lamentable missed opportunity: he really was gorgeous and I never once wanked off while thinking about him.

Anyway. In the way of dreams, it started in the middle. We had done the polite conversation bit and were already taking our clothes off, very neatly and sedately (and not even each other's clothes). I was admiring his wonderfully trim body and looking forward to getting my hands all over it. I think in my dream he was his real age but still with the body and looks of his 25-year-old self. He wasn’t wearing any make-up. He looked mouth-wateringly wonderful.
I’d just run a bath and was leading him to it, when suddenly I looked down and realised that I had the most enormous bush - masses of grey pubes, 6 inches long, sprouting out all over the place. I was just thinking that it might be a good idea to give them a trim, when he spotted them (it would have been hard not to).

And that was the end of any chance I had of shagging Adam Ant, even in my dreams.