You know me tooo well....

I don't often share the details or my trade secrets for that matter but I've always been curious about the girls with the "dsl"s (you know, "dick sucking lips"). It probably all started back in the mid-80's when my boyfriend at the time had a "thing" about Marilyn Chambers. And if I have to explain who THAT is, well, we can save my commentary on the relevance of porn for another blog.

Seriously. Too many folks leap to conclusions. I was recently told that I have a body that just screams "fuck me". I was a little taken aback (but THANK YOU) by this compliment. I mean really...just because a woman may sport the equipment, doesn't necessarily equate to her technique! My complimentary admirer (who is happy, healthy and enjoying sex in their marriage - lucky pair!) indicated that they have NO DOUBT that I know exactly what to do with my equipment.

so the other afternoon, post-pool lounging -- I went to my best leisure reading (admittedly guilty pleasure) of old emails, text messages -- the stuff I hang onto for while because, um, just because it makes me warm and wet and reminds me that I am adored:

(chat message to him from me):

soft tender kisses begin your legs outstretched
I'm kneeling naked with my soft kissable lips delicately working their way along the inside of your thigh

you haven't restrained my hands (this time) so my fingers are gently stroking your balls circling your cock

I love to catch that look in your beautiful eyes as I grasp your stiff throbbing sex
and watch as you breathe deeply your eyes softly close when my warm wet mouth opens to take you, I wait for your audible sigh as my tongue slowly begins to lick your shaft...

***
yeah well I will just leave the rest to your imagination
but the response was "You know me tooo well..."

Yes my darling, as you do me, and it's the most incredibly wonderful way to know you're alive

Plan B

has yet to be realized...and when it is, my love, it will be even better than what is written here...trust me

"Plan B"

would have started last night when you arrived home
with a quiet candlelit warm oil massage
your gorgeous naked body subjected to a full body overhaul to relax you into a deep sound sleep

and once well rested, I am sure you would have been more than happy to wake me, early, and without a doubt, you would find me ready to take you...
offering yourself to me, I take a small nibble not wanting to rush
our lovemaking is deep and passionate and is just the right start to the morning

up and out the door, you take off for a quick run with the dogs
and I climb from bed wearing little more than a camisole and boy shorts
hair pulled up into a ponytail
I'll have a hearty breakfast ready for us when you return

and once we've fed ourselves just enough to build up the strength
you help clear the table, lightly brushing against me as you go back and forth
your arm gently circles my waist and you whisper
"let's take a shower..."

I know how gently you would wash me as I would you
unable to resist teasing your sex until you cannot resist
and so again, we indulge our desires under a cascade of water

later we find a restful afternoon, if the sun were to shine,
we would find a quiet place outside to read, dogs watchful but lazy happy for the company
maybe you will have found the perfect spot for that hammock I picked up in Mexico
or perhaps a cool spot inside, soft music playing, a glass of cool sweet tea
just the perfect place to curl up, my head in your lap as you catch up on work from being away...

as the sun begins to set, dinner...
something simple with a delicious bottle of wine
your fingertips tracing my exposed skin
a sip of wine that flows from my lips to yours as I lean to kiss you

seducing me as I seduce you
forgetting food and falling under your spell...
you would take me by the hand and lead me to bed,
undress me,
caress me and yes, my love,
I am forever yours....

..."I'm the worst adulterer ever"

yeah, there you have it. five words one never expects to hear...or at least I think one would not. but maybe I underestimate the power of the affair...

if you weren't sleeping under a rock in the past six months, you may have heard of a film called "It's Complicated" -- Meryl Streep, Alex Baldwin and Steve Martin -- in a love "triangle".


She is the ex-wife of one of these men, begins to date the other...but then the now-remarried ex is having a crisis -- and she and the ex end up having an affair.

Yep, it is rich with "ah-ha" moments -- like the revelation that SHE is now the other woman. And really, it's not that bad: she reaps all the benefits of the titillation of having a secret romance with forbidden fruit, but WITHOUT the day-to-day crap of being married to the guy!

So there you have it in a nutshell: why wouldn't we want to have the excitment and anticipation and benefits without the hassle? I mean really...if I don't have to be responsible for feeding you every evening, picking up after your lazy ass or making sure YOUR bills are paid on time, why should I desire to be the full time "wife".

And then there is the phone call (or email or text message) that never materializes.

When you are the "other" whatever, you are likely to find yourself waiting impatiently to hear from the object of your lust. So when that communication doesn't occur, one may find themselves inventing all sorts of explanations for why...

24 hours or more later, the message comes or the phone rings and your fuck buddy says "geez I'm so sorry...I really should have gotten in contact with you..." and your heart leaps into your mouth, you pinch your skin until it nearly bleeds and then wonder, what the fuck?

A Modern Sonnet of Forbidden Love

Life presents many challenges -- obvious yes -- but what of the love that one must keep secret?

On this rainy first Sunday of April, I am watching "Shakespeare In Love" (again) for what must be the 900th time. And the tragedy on which it is based, "Romeo & Juliet", has always been one of Shakespeare's works that evokes such deep passion and emotion for the love that is forbidden. The desire, aye to covet, that which belongs to another is a painful journey -- fraught with lies, deceit, longing, frustration and adrenaline charged moments.

Fleeting at best, those who love in secret must endeavor to keep the fires burning but not so brightly that the entire world will see it for its true nature. And yet, even when we believe we are doing our best to keep our attraction, devotion, care and love for each other cloaked...it usually doesn't take much for our friends to see through the charade.

And so, our frustration is vented in emails -- tender words of lust protected in a virtual world. Before computers, such exchanges would be committed to paper -- dangerous and explosive confessions that if discovered would clearly ruin our "normal" lives. And now, email -- even blogs -- provide a safe but unprotected haven.

I ventured back and found my "sonnet" -- I know you will feel the enormous frustration at not being able to be public with the person I adore:

the lesser of two evils: not seeing you or seeing you? so maddening, isn't it -- unable to touch, kiss, nuzzle and whisper in your ear how much I wanted you tonight and the smile I couldn't hide because I was so happy to be with you...

yes, I know the exactly the moment I wanted to you to touch me, hold me, kiss me...and I remember the times that thought came to mind and I pushed it deep and away...fearful that you wouldn't feel the same way...

our playful tete-a-tete that has gone on for so long and yet has new meaning for me now - I wonder why it took me so long to relinquish my fear of what would happen...and since that first kiss...I love the moments when you simply look into my eyes and smile...no words...small gestures...when I rested my hand on your thigh and you poked at my knee...make it all the more precious...

I'm still in your arms -- so tight and close -- am dead certain I can hear the beating of your heart...wishful that I had been able to steal but one kiss to safeguard my lips until tomorrow...

I am so through with playing the rules of someone else's game...

when did we all fall down and hit our heads?

seriously...

I didn't drink the koolaid -- hell I don't even LIKE koolaid!

but something has happened to us: we point and whisper if people aren't thinking like we are, speaking as we do and certainly best not be doing ANYTHING to enjoy ourselves at any moment that could possibly be witnessed by someone else.

one of the ladies I carpool with said "my job is what I DO, it is not who I AM" and I couldn't agree more. the sad thing is, we are not necessarily allowed to be who we truly are when we are on the job.

and yes, there is the matter of public decency -- I certainly wouldn't encourage the baring of a midriff nor do I really need to see ALL your piercings -- but what about a simply acknowledgement that happy employees are productive ones?

we are certainly restricted now because of litigation that placed some very good guidelines: minimum wage, mandatory meal breaks, allowing for sufficient recovery time between work shifts.

but when did we become so obsessed that we have to watch every employee like a hawk? know exactly when they go to the bathroom, was that a personal call, did you fart...I mean really...I just don't know how much more restriction a person can take.

for example: to this very day, I am uncomfortable chewing gum.

why?

try twelve years in a very strict, single sex, educational environment that frowned upon any behavior that could be considered "unladylike". Is it any wonder that when one's true nature is so severely hampered, harangued, monitored, discouraged, that they either end up in a loony bin, dancing on poles or pose nude?

(for the record -- none of those apply -- well, I take that back and those pictures are EXACTLY the reason I can never run for office)

I am curious though...how long will it take? how many stress disability claims? how many anxiety attacks or cardiac infarctions. In the 1990's I think it was called "going postal" -- but what about now?

Have we not learned a damn thing about how to treat one another?
Do we understand that the more we push a person into a corner, the more likely they are to lash out in ways that may be "inappropriate"?

I sigh, a deep and heavy one this time, as I consider that it would have been nice to know that the rules were going to only apply to those who could read the fine print... and maybe THAT was my lesson to be learned...

I tried to behave.. it got boring...

don't you just love a good teaser? I have many things sloshing about in my gray matter today. You will just have to wait a little longer for me to share...

~~~ an update on the 28th of March

okay so "April showers, bring May flowers" but just exactly what is up with spring madness? it's as though everyone has lost their freaking minds!

Including me...

when I pulled this blog post up and saw the title again, I blushed.

no seriously, I do blush sometimes, well okay a lot of times...

This week was the culmination of all those weeks of trying so very hard to behave that I finally found myself in the precarious cliche of "hand caught in the cookie jar".

not surprisingly, this is worse, much worse.
[well, maybe not so much for those of us who are open-minded, confident, not sexually repressed...]

"Beware the Ides of March..."

of course it all had to do with emails, and work, and the receipt and exchange of some relatively tame (okay, sexually charged) messages between lovers.

now mind you, this all could have been avoided if there were some flexbility -- simply allowing an employee to access a personal email account whilst on a break, or before they're on the clock -- would have pushed this entire subject into the virtual world, away from the prying eyes of the administrator and far from the land of the "spam filter" on the office network.

yeah, well, sometimes shit just happens.

and when it does, you just have to suck it up, admit your error and call it a day...

that...my friends...was my Friday. and I am certain this won't be the end of it.

In fact, my "email while at work may be monitored"
(truth be told, I knew that already)

But I live by the adage that you should NEVER ever put anything in writing that you would not want to come back and fly in your face -- particularly if you don't have enough of a spine to say, "yes, I wrote that..."

so my sweets, I return to the office on Monday, with an invisible scarlet letter tacked on my person -- I would say it was on my back, but I can see the cheaply made handle of the dirty and dull-edged knife quite clearly -- and know in my heart...they're all just a little bit jealous...

[NOT SO FAMOUS] LAST WORDS

Is “text” sex better than the real thing?


***
So I had to come back to visit this. I mean really, you didn't expect me to dangle this carrot out there and wait to see what would happen next, did you?

I am BIG fan of sexy text messages. It's sort of like having that mardi gras mask on full time. Things whispered (or texted - is that a word now?) just seem to take the mystique of sex to a different level.

For example, I recall teasing about how sending a picture wasn't very satisfying...that what we really want is the 3D version instead. The text message exchange turned into a hot and heavy description of what I was wearing, how it was going to be removed, limiting the amount of items removed...and so on...

the end result:

oh baby, you know I want the 3D version...and right now

and once the text was sent...moments later the phone rang with the deep sexy voice softly asking:

are you somewhere, close? you should, you know drop by, like now!

for long distances...text sex can be fun, tantalizing, wicked (especially if you happen to be in, say, a City Council meeting waiting to present)

there is always that that distinctive buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz of your vibrate (like that isn't it's own best feature) mode on your cell and yes, when that wicked little smile starts to move across your mouth, you lick your lips, eyes begin to sparkle and your breath quickens...

yeah like that won't give you away...

you gotta love it...oh hey...NEW TEXT MESSAGE JUST ARRIVED!!!

Life Events

This email was entitled “I am Alive”.

The rumors of my disappearance are not true. I am still alive. The vessel is up and running and everyone loves her. I am finally resuming a normal life once again but not quite there yet. In the past few weeks in addition to the whole new boat thing, my youngest daughter turned 16, my third daughter graduated from high school, my in-laws celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary and more! Most of the travel is behind me for a little while anyway.

I was viewing your text yesterday but was unable to reply as my phone finally broke beyond repair. I now have a new phone replacing my 5 year old model. That's pretty old in cell phone years. I hope all is well with you. Are you still employed? I have attached a grainy photo of the two vessels together. I will send lakefront shots once we have the opportunity. She's only been in operation for two weeks so we are still learning systems and continue to outfit her. Have a happy 4th!

***

What did we do with ourselves before text messaging and email and blogging and Facebook and, for crying out loud, Twitter? Is every second so fucking important that we have to "post" about it? snicker, giggle...as I "blog" this I cannot help to think how ironic that whole line of thinking is.

Are we so fearful of our mortality that we simply MUST put everything down...right this very minute...in a virtual world that has taken control of not just our waking moments, but our sleep time too? Yes, I've gone to bed thinking, "wow, did I put enough food on those cooktops in Cafe World to actually open it up tomorrow morning at 5am?" The fact that I have a telecommuting friend who "checks in" on both my virtual cafe AND fishtank is, well, embarrassing!

I don't even have a dog walker for my REAL DOG who waits patiently at home, day after day, so excited and happy to see me and then loyal parks herself beneath my chair as I type this blog! She does give the lifted eyebrow look every so often to remind me there are other, more importants task to tend to -- but for now -- she's just happy I'm in the same room with her, a socked foot lightly brushing her back as she slowly falls back asleep...

A STARTING POINT

An epiphany in the bathtub led me to begin a collection of anecdotal tales that have been living comfortably on "a stick" -- you know that hard drive you carry around with a bunch of shit on it that maybe you must might need. Yeah, right.

Anyway, a longtime friend and former co-worker used to say to me “how is it that you can just talk to anyone – even when we’re riding in an elevator?”

And Shay, you had no clue did you? It seems that the shy little girl who could barely stand up in front of class and give a presentation morphed into the loquacious, energetic and somewhat bipolar creative writer who amidst a tub of bubbles thought she should “get it in writing” – so there you have it!

Of course this meant that I needed to “put it” into a digestible sequence. I had a boss once who wanted everything in bullet points – no long dissertation on a crisis – and that was a huge challenge. My creative writing instructors had always encouraged the use of language to be demonstrative and descriptive. To reduce the story of, for example, the drunk off duty bartender who fell over the rail into “bullet points” was akin to summarizing the Iraq war into a brief 5 page powerpoint presentation.

And then there is my knight in shining armor -- who loved to torture me in front of strangers by fielding a question from me and then sweetly saying, "is there a question coming, soon, anytime would be good."

yeah...there is...well...eventually...ah crap, what was I saying?

A Raison d’etre…

I was asked recently why now – this book thing – you’ve talked about for years. So what pushed you over the edge to actually sit down, give yourself a deadline and then carry on like a crazed babushka on a spring cleaning mission? Instead of my usually smart assed response, I really did stop to think about it. No, really – and quit snickering because I do often have reflective – or rather contemplative moments. Admittedly, that IS hard to believe but…oh bugger…where was I?

March 20, 1998. There, I’ve said it, put it to paper, taken it to task…think of any other cliché phrases that might be appropriate for facing your demons. And no, ma’am, this is NOT a book that will end up in the “Self Help” section – though I can certainly understand if it did. (And secretly I hope that it will create some sort of underground buzz amongst us “survivor” types!)

And now then, where were we? Ah yes…Friday, March 20, 1998. It has little significance for anyone outside of my immediate circle. And, actually, if pressed to name it, I seriously doubt that all these years later anyone can remember why that day started the clock for how my life was about to change

When I think about today, in this moment, looking back, yes I do still get a little miffed. Okay, angry. Maybe more than angry…I’m thinking serious expletives here but curbing my instinct to utilize them in printed form.

is your EDIT button activated? …roger that

I mean I had MY life all figured out then, didn’t I? The last thing I needed was an illness that could end my life. Oh you’ve heard it all before, haven’t you then? The “C” word…

The week or so leading up to March 20th was a Three Stooges funfest of doctor visits including an attempt to aspirate the tumor, a mammogram that couldn’t see squat followed by an ultrasound that had an image as ‘frozen’ by the technician to print out and give to my physician. When he walked into the room with “that look” – I just knew that the funny half-dollar sized blurp in my left breast wasn’t just going to go away!

The karmic joke definitely turned on the fact that I was trying to add to our family at the time. Pregnant, last I checked does not equal cancer.

So, following a thwarted attempt to see and be seen by a local surgeon, a frantic call to my then brother-in-law brought us to Friday, March 20th and a field trip to Stanford Medical Center – oh won’t this be fun? Are there surprises in my brown bag lunch?

and so...the journey began