The gift

RSS is cool. Thanks to evilsciencechick, I understand the point of it now and love it! For all of you still using IE, I highly recommend Mozilla Firefox. Very cool. And free.

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I left work early on Tuesday. I think I had a touch of the flu or something. Achy, headache, scratchy throat. So I pretty much just slept the rest of the afternoon and night. Sorry R. Boring night for You. Wednesday, I thought I felt a little better, but as the day wore on, the aches and headache came back. I snoozed again off and on for the evening. R woke me periodically to check out the way cool lunar eclipse. Hope ya'll got to sneak a peak at it.

At one point I was dozing on the couch while R watched the last game of the World Series. I apologized for being sick. He asked why I was apologizing. I told Him because He didn't get any from me on Tuesday, and I thought I'd be better Wednesday but I wasn't. He said if He wanted it He'd just take it. That made me smile. He said He was actually getting ready to take it in a few minutes, but He didn't. He let me sleep. I owe Him now. Today I feel much better, thanks. :)

**************************

Tuesday, we were eating dinner (during the couple of hours I stayed awake because I was afraid I wouldn't sleep through the night if I didn't). I was chattering on about something and He starting pointing to His neck with this look on His face that told me I did something wrong.

"What?" I asked.

"Where is your collar?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't really sleep with it on." That's right boys and girls. The gift I was to receive from Him was a collar. A training collar as He said. A black studded leather collar. I'll give you a minute to get over your shock.

Everybody OK?

Really, the idea of a collar, for me, is quite exciting. I have expressed how I want Him to control me. And I don't mean in a degrading, "women are worthless" kind of way. Dare I say, that Man worships me. He loves me deeply. And I feel the same. And the thought of wearing a collar He presented to me is very important. Much like a wedding ring, to me it is a sign of great commitment.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against marriage. The thought of marrying Him someday still thrills me. But for a long time I was dead-set against remarrying. After my divorce, I was left with quite a bitter taste in my mouth from it. It is too easy for marriages to end. Of course, now, I realize that it makes a big difference when you are with someone you click with. I never had that. Ever.

He felt the same way, too. Our friends would always ask us when we were getting married, and we would both vigorously shake our heads "no". That was the divorce bitterness in both of us. He said for a long time He wouldn't marry again either. Which was fine with me at the time.

But after we spent more and more time together, the issue came up and He said "I do intend to marry you someday". Of course that was after a night of drinking, so I confronted Him the next day while we were IM-ing each other. I told Him not to bring things up that He may not mean. He said He meant everything He said. I even made Him say it again to make sure He knew exactly what I was talking about. I thought I was going to cry. Actually, I did tear up, but I was at work and had to compose myself.

But until that day comes, I am perfectly content to wear my collar. Of course, I don't wear it to work - way too many nosy people. I did wear it Saturday, and only two people noticed it, but didn't think twice about it. I have always been kind of what some people would call a freak, with the way I dress and the accessories I choose to wear. I'm sure I could wear the collar around my family and nobody would think twice about it. They are used to what I wear.

There is a big joke up at *Our Favorite Bar*. The new owner, who, coincidentally, is our friend NY, told me I needed to be retrained. I took great offense to that and threatened to quit. I bartended there when he was just a customer, and he had no problems with me then. Anyway, ever since then, the joke when I goof something up is that I need to be retrained.

Sunday, we were there to watch the game, and I went behind the bar to help NY when he was in the back cooking. Our friend WestSide said something, and R said, "That's right, she's being retrained."

WestSide said, "I see that collar."

R and I just grinned.

So anyway, I know there are many people out there who may not understand the dynamics of our relationship. All I can say is, it is working for us so far, and as long as it does I intend to run with it. I have never felt so safe and protected. The only issue I have is the feeling of insecurity I have when I am not with Him. I have been insecure my whole life. I just have to keep working on that. And wearing my collar when He is not with me helps. It reminds me that there is someone there to protect me.

After dinner, I put my collar on. I thanked Him for wanting me to wear it. I know it isn't just a game now, that it means what I hoped it meant. Then I fell asleep on the couch. Guess I can sleep with it on. He woke me up to go to bed. He took my collar off me and we went to sleep.

I love Him.

Pretty in Pink

I wore pink today. Pink corduroys with a sweater with pink and mauve and beige stripes. I like the sweater because I think the placement of the stripes makes my little breasts look a bit bigger. What I don't like is that least 6 people have said something to me today about how "nice" or "pretty" I look. I even got an email from one person Which leads me to the conclusion that they must think I look like shit every other day. As if I look so horrible all the time that they are just shocked at my appearance today. Kind of like when I colored my hair darker and cut bangs. My boss came in to tell me something and stopped mid-sentence to say "you colored your hair!"

"Yes, and I cut bangs, too."

"Well, I like THAT part."

Fuck you. I don't like your hair, but I don't say anything. If you don't like something about the way I look, why say anything? Just leave me alone.

It's the fucking people in this place. So many of them are so big on appearance. So big on image. I wear my baggy jeans and boots, but that's because I know I'm going to have to move desks and computers around for the "can't break a nail" yuppies in here. I wore a skirt to the Christmas party last year, and half of the room stopped talking when I walked in.

Way to make a person feel comfortable. I hate these people.

I only care about how I look for R. He compliments me all the time. He makes me feel pretty. I had to work (a very busy) Saturday night at the bar. He took me to the mall beforehand to find me a skirt. He wanted a red plaid school girl skirt for me. Finally, after several stores, He found the two He wanted me to try on. I tried one on and stepped out of the dressing room to show Him. When He picks out the clothes, I have to show Him so He can decide if I get them or not. It was a tad loose in the waist, and I asked Him if he could find a 3. I thought the 3 may not fit, but wanted to make sure. He left and returned and said the 5 was the smallest. I asked Him if it looked ok. Judging from the bulge in His pants, it looked fine. I asked Him if He wanted me to try on the other one. He said "No. That's it."

See? That's the kind of compliment that makes me feel good.

So I wore my little schoolgirl skirt and made lots of money in tips. I think I made T mad because she caught NY looking at me when I was bent over. She should know better than to worry about me. I'm not interested in anybody else.

But I do work for tips...

So glad it's Friday.

Today was a major meltdown day.

It has finally calmed down somewhat. This morning there were random server problems. Client complaints about our reformatted web site (which I did not reformat, I just get the wonderful calls from pissed off clients and try to calm them down). Miscellaneous individual workstation issues. Citrix problems. Printer problems. And so on.

Therefore, I have a headache.

I had another bad dream last night. A very strange bad dream. When I woke up, I tried to remember it all, but couldn't. My dreams jump around a lot. Kind of like that knew show, "Lost". I remember being on a really big boat. All of these famous people were on the boat to go fishing. It was like a giant head boat. It had escalators on it, and pulled up to an airport to pick up all these famous people so they could go fishing. Strangely, whenever the boat moved, the surrounding moved with it. Almost like we were in a big lake, with really shallow parts and the whole lake and shore moved with the boat.

I got off the boat and was floating around in an tube in this really shallow part. In the shallow part were homes up on stilts. The yards were under about a foot of water, and apparantly this was normal because nobody in the houses seemed alarmed by the water. The yards were separated by concrete block, that seemed to work as locks somehow, because as I floated through the yards the water level would drop or rise. While floating, my clothes kept changing. (Remember, I watch myself from above in all of my dreams) I started out in regular clothes on the boat, then I had a bathing suit. They seemed to change whenever I entered a new yard. And so did the temperature. I guess my clothes were changing to keep me warm or cool.

The last yard I floated into, I got stuck. I stood up and was wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots - the exact same outfit I wore a lot through high school (oh yeah, I was sexy). Suddenly I was surrounded by snakes. I have so many dreams with snakes in it. As always I grabbed one of the snakes. It was green, dark green, and could speak. And it was pissed that I picked it up. All of the other snakes disappeared. I started running with this snake, and I tripped over one of the concrete blocks. I fell and the next yard had gravel in it. I put my hands out to break my fall, and the snake was under my hand, so it got several cuts. It started bleeding and was yelling at me for hurting it. Suddenly, it drew back and bit me as hard as it could on my hand. Over and over it bit me. The whole time I was thinking "At least it isn't a poisonous snake, its head isn't triangular) I ran away from the snake and headed for the boat, presumably for a first aid kit to treat my snake bites.

Now, in between these water filled yards and the boat was a stretch of road from the town I used to live it. So I started walking down the road. Only now the road had a curve in it, and on the outside of a curve were grandstands and a booth. An old man was selling tickets to a tractor pull. All the people there were in yellow raincoats. I was too. I just kept walking toward the boat. I had my first encounter with a famous person. It was Travis Tritt (OK, I saw one of his videos the night before, so that kind of makes sense. I guess) I asked him if he could help me get back to the boat because I had just been bitten by a snake. I showed him my hand which was now all bruised and bloody. He yelled at me to get away. He said he wouldn't help me because he was a famous person and couldn't be bothered by someone like me. I told him that just because he was famous didn't give him the right to be a jerk and told him to fuck off. I started walking toward the boat again, and he followed me apologizing. I looked back and he turned into a kid I went to school with, then back into himself. I ignored him and kept walking and he finally gave up and went back over to all the other people wearing the yellow raincoats.

I made it to the boat and just walked right onto it, like it was ground level. I got on the escalators, and Whitney Houston was coming down and snagged my arm with her fishing pole. I yelled at her and told her to pay attention. She snorted some powder up her nose from her fingers and said she was sorry.

I made it to the top of the escalators, my raincoat was gone, and I turned to the right. I couldnt' see anything it was just dark, and then I woke up.

What the fuck was that? See why I don't do drugs? Imagine what I'd do on an acid trip.

And I always have bad days at work after I have bad dreams.

Quitcherbitchen

*Warning*
There is a fair amount of complaining in today's entry. If you don't want to hear it, don't read it.

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I hate my job. I hate corporate America. I hate people that brown-nose. I hate that I am expected to brown-nose. I hate my window-less office. I also hate when my boss gives me stupid little piddly projects because he can't do them. Like this one: "Can you scour the internet looking for a site or a spreadsheet that the government or some other entity might maintain that would like what banks were bought by other banks. Same for savings and loans…they may be listed separately. Some key words might be: bank mergers or aquisistions."

I didn't tell him he spelled 'acquisitions' wrong. And that the first sentence is missing a word or needs a word or something, and a question mark.

I have tried every keyword I can think of and haven't found shit. I don't know how long he wants me to spend on this but it's giving me a headache. He gave it to me, I'm sure, because he couldn't find the information. I am usually very good at tracking things down on the Internet, but this one just isn't working for me.

Could be worse. The "Marketing Director" I share an office with has to call and make lunch reservations for 3, non-smoking, please, for my boss and 2 unknown attendees. At least I'm not his secretary. I mean, the "Marketing Director."

And I know. If I'm so miserable then I should find another job. Well, that's the problem. The jobs I feel I would enjoy don't pay much. And I can't afford the pay cut. Or to lose health insurance. Which really sucks. So I have to decide between paying bills, being able to go to the doctor, and being miserable for 40+ hours a week, or being content and broke. I don't know which would be worse, and I'm afraid of change, so I just suffer and bitch. The bitching helps sometimes, believe it or not. If I complain enough, someone usually says, "Well, it could be worse." Yeah, it could. I know. I'll shut up now.

*************

I'm cramping. That makes me even more grumpy. I don't know if the cramps I get are normal or not. Last night they were really bad, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I coudn't get comfortable though. Finally I curled up in a ball and was able to fall asleep. I woke up all stretched out and cramping again. Ugh. Usually they only last for 2 days though.

Does anyone have nightmares while on their periods? I have bad dreams other times, but it seems like a lot of them are when I am on my period. I'm curious about this. Can the hormone changes cause an upset in your brain that causes you to have bad dreams? The same hormone change that causes me to be all grumpy and weepy and moody? Is it because I'm more stressed during that time? Or am I just unlucky enough to have them both at the same time?

*************

On a happier note, I am excited about a gift I have been told I will be receiving. I'm not sure I'm ready to share the details of it. In this blog, it is not such a big deal. But our friends, family, and acquaintances may not all understand. There are a lot of people who pass judgment, and this would probably be something to trigger that. I don't feel the need to have to explain or justify my relationship with R. And as He said, it's nobody's business really.

We have stumbled upon something that seems to work well for us, however, even though I don't think we have worked out all the kinks. But do you ever in a relationship? It really is quite normal, if you look back through history at how relationships worked. For me, it was like that *click* I have been waiting for. (you know - *click* Oh My Gosh. That's it!) I have a strange feeling of comfort I've never had before. Sometimes it almost scares me. You know, that "too much of a good thing" thing? And then there are my liberal girlfriends who definitely wouldn't understand or accept it. Not that all is perfect all of the time. But there is much more harmony in my personal life now than I ever remember having. It's nice.

I really have to learn to not worry about other peoples opinions.

Hit me, baby, one more time.

Scene: Sitting on the couch, watching a game, drinking a beer. R gets up, leaves the room and returns.

"Are you done with your beer?"

"Almost."

"Well, finish it and I will throw it away."

I finished it, thinking He was going to get Himself another one and was going to get me one too. He threw the bottle away, and told me to stand up. I guess I would have to get them. Then He told me to go downstairs. Yep, that's where the beer is. In the fridge in the basement. I started downstairs, but He followed me with His hands on my shoulders.

"Am I in trouble for something?" I asked, smiling at His odd behavior.

"Shut up." He steered me into the bathroom. "Stay in here. Don't move. And don't speak unless I tell you too."

Oh goody, I thought to myself. We were going to play a game. I stood there in the dark. In my red pajamas He got me for Sweetest Day. He shut the door. And I waited. And waited. And waited. OK. Maybe we weren't playing a game here. Maybe I was being punished for something? How odd. I suddenly remembered back to when I was 15, when a group of guys locked me in a well room in a basement. It was pitch black and I couldn't see. All I knew was that there were tons of big spiders on the inside of the door when they opened it, and I was scared to death to move because I hate spiders and didn't want to touch one, and I sure couldn't feel for the door, because I saw them there when it was opened. I screamed and cried; frantic, pathetic cries, until finally one of the guys opened the door. I ran out and screamed at them for doing that to me. I know I looked just hilarious to them, with my tear streaked face, my voice hoarse from yelling. But those spiders were so big...

I wrapped my arms around me, thinking I could feel them crawling on me.

STOP!

No need to get scared. I was in my own house, I could see the light shining in under the door, I could reach over and turn on the light if I wanted to, there were no spiders in there...

R finally came back. He opened the door and turned on the light.

"Take off your clothes."

Okey-dokey. I took them off. (Made note to self to put a rug in that bathroom - the basement floor is really cold this time of year.) He took my clothes from me and set them on the desk. Then He put a blindfold over my eyes.

"Can you see?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"No."

I couldn't see, but the blindfold moved easily, so I probably could have if I wanted to without Him knowing. But I didn't want to. I was already enjoying this, even though I had no idea what He was going to do. I even closed my eyes in case the blindfold moved so I wouldn't accidentally see anything.

He led me out of the bathroom to the stairs, telling me when I was at the steps, near the last step, etc. He led me into the living room, where I was trying to feel for the furniture. The coffee table wasn't where I thought it should be. He steered me around and told me to lay down on my belly. I did, and realized the futon was back in the middle of the living room. The futon in the middle of the living room only means one thing in our house.

Sex.

So I laid down. He grabbed both of my arms and pulled them up straight. I heard something, then felt it. Handcuffs. Holy shit. I'm pretty sure I was wet by then. He put a cuff on my right wrist over the side rail and then cuffed my left so that it was below. No getting out of that.

Then he grabbed my right leg and stretched me out, tying me to the corner. Same with the left. I KNOW I was wet.

I felt Him running something up and down my arms, my back, my butt, my legs. What WAS that? It wasn't His hand, too soft. It wasn't His dick, it was moving too fast. It wasn't... CRACK! Right on my bare ass.

Where in the hell did He get a whip from? CRACK! Ow, that stings a little.

CRACK! Ow ow ow ow ow ow.

He rubbed my ass with His hand lightly, as if to soothe the area He just hit. Then He spanked me with His hand, a couple of times. Then He stopped. I felt Him rubbing the whip on me again. Soon I learned His pattern, and began to tense up right before it. Rub, rub, rub, Crack! Rub, rub, rub, Crack! I would flinch, then whimper, then cry. He hit my back, my ass, my legs. He called me a little slut. I was Niagara-freaking-Falls by then. He did this for a while, then disappeared. I heard Him come back, and open the fridge. I think He was putting a lime in His Corona.

Then I felt him near me again, and He was untying me. I was a little disappointed that it was done, but really, really wanted to be fucked.

He untied me and told me to turn over on my back. I did. He grabbed my arm. He was tying me back up! Guess we weren't done!

After he tied me back up, He said "Remember, there is green, yellow, and red. Red is for if you need me to stop."

"OK."

Something pinched my left nipple. Hard. Too hard.

"Yellow."

"OK"

Something pinched my right nipple. Again, too hard.

"Yellow."

"OK."

He left again. I could see the glow from the TV.

"Can you see?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"No. I have my eyes closed."

"You better not be lying. I'll put a bag over your head."

"I'm not lying."

"Shut up."

I then felt something cold. Very cold. And wet. An ice cube. Around my belly, my nipples, my clit. Ooohh, not sure if I liked that. Too sensitive there. I squirmed and kicked and wiggled and whined as much as I could without saying yellow again. I didn't want Him to think I was going to "yellow" out of everything. He would stop with the ice, long enough for me to compose myself again, long enough to tell me to quit whining, and long enough for Him to pinch or suck on my nipples, and grope my breasts. Then more ice, then more pinching and sucking and groping. It stopped again.

I heard Him walk away, to the couch? I heard his lighter. I panicked inside. He just used ice. Is He going to burn me now? He wouldn't burn me, would He?

"Are you going to burn me?"

"Did I tell you to talk? Can you see?"

"No."

He stomped down the hallway. He returned and put a towel over my face.

"Now. Can you see?"

"No."

"Can you breathe?"

"Yes."

"Shut up."

He lifted my head up with His hand. "Drink."

He was giving me beer.

"Hit this."

He put a cigarette in my mouth. I took a drag. I really wanted to smoke the whole thing, but given I was all tied up, I didn't see that happening.

Uh oh.

Something hot on my chest. "OH MY GOD HE'S BURNING ME!" ran through my head. I cried out and He said "It's candle wax. You can handle candle wax." He did it again, this time lower, below my belly button. It was candle wax. I could tell. I tried to calm myself down, I have dripped candle wax on my hands before. But I couldn't take it there, it felt too hot. I screamed. Loud. And cried. "Don't burn me, you're burning me! Ow Ow Ow! It hurts! RED RED RED RED! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" I was sobbing at this point. If it had been summertime and we had the windows open, the neighbors probably would have called the police. My mind drifted into how embarrassing that would be as He said "Shhhhh" and wiped the wax off me.

He let me calm down. He asked if I was OK.

"Um. What happens if I have to go to the bathroom?" He about scared the piss out of me with that wax.

"Hmm."

He untied me and let me up, and led me to the bathroom. "You better make sure you get it all out. I'm not letting you up again." He shut the door. I peed and heard Him say "Let me know when you are done."

"I'm done."

He led me back out into the living room, gave me two hits of a cigarette, a sip of beer, and told me to get on my knees. Oh goody! Finally. I got on me knees and leaned over the futon. I spread my legs.

CRACK!

Hey. Wait a minute.

CRACK!

Ow.

CRACK!

Ok. That one was too close to my pussy. I don't think I want to get hit there. I closed my legs together.

"That's for having to get up to pee. Lay back down. I laid on my back. He tied me back up. He left again. I was shivering. With nothing happening, I was able to notice a slight chill in the room. He put a blanket on me. I think He was taking a break, smoking a cigarette.

I felt Him near me again. He was on the futon now, I felt the pressure. He pulled my blanket down. He was pinching my nipples again, and sucking on them. I felt Him straddle me.

"Open your mouth."

More beer? Nope, time to suck his dick.

He shoved his dick in my mouth, saying, "Suck my cock, you little whore." I did so. He rammed it in my mouth so far I thought I would gag. He pulled back. I licked the bottom of His shaft. I know He likes that. I sucked and licked for a while. Then He got off me and left again.

He came back and I felt Him on the side of the futon. He was rubbing something on my nipples. Then He put it on my lips. It was my vibrator. He made me suck on it. He rubbed it on me a little more, around my nipples, on my lips, then down to my pussy. He rubbed it around and around, and in and out. It is a big vibrator, and it is hard to get in me in that position. I couldn't get my legs far enough apart.

Soon He decided He was finished playing with me and left once more. I was a bit relieved, I didn't want to get hurt by the vibrator.

When He returned, I heard Him take off His clothes, and He was on top of me. I felt Him ram His hard cock inside of me. I was pretty wet and it slid right in. He fucked me pretty hard, then paused to untie me. He lifted my legs up in the air and fucked me harder. He called me a slut again. He flipped me over and fucked me from behind. Hard. He asked me if I was a slut.

"Yes."

"And whose slut are you?"

"Yours."

"That's right."

He stopped, and laid on His back. I still had the blind fold on. He told me to get on Him and fuck Him. I obeyed, but I didn't feel like I was going to have an orgasm. All of my senses were out of whack, I couldn't see. I stopped.

"Oh no you don't. We aren't stopping until you have an orgasm. And I have all night."

It took me a little while, moving my arms and changing my position a bit here and there. He said "That's right, you do what you need to do. Just keep fucking me you slut. Feel how hard my cock is. I want to feel your pussy quiver."

Finally I felt it building. I came hard. It was so strange, being blindfolded. It felt different, almost. I can't really explain why. It just did.

"Sorry, but that's all you're getting tonight. It's my turn." I was on my back again, practically folded in half. He was holding my legs back and fucking me hard. So hard. I was actually starting to feel pain. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he pulled out and came all over my hair, my face, my chest, and the blindfold.

He pulled the blindfold off, and wiped me off with the towel he had covering my face before. He looked...concerned?

I sat on the futon and pulled the blanket up over me. He threw the towel and the blindfold in the dirty clothes, came back and sat next to me on the floor.

"Are you ok?"

"I would be better if you weren't ignoring me."

"I'm not ignoring you." I meant touching. He figured that out and sat next to me.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

I nodded. He put his arm around me and stroked my hair and kissed me.

"You know I would never do anything to really hurt you?"

"I know."

"Maybe we shouldn't do that again if you are scared."

"I'm not scared. I just want you to hold me afterwards."

We talked about other things, almost like a play by play. He wondered what I was thinking when He put me downstairs, wondering if I had any idea what He was doing. I didn't. I told Him I didn't like the ice and wax so much, but maybe if I knew what it was before He did it I could handle it better. The whip was actually His leather belt. He said my butt was pretty red. I got up on my knees and He said I still had some red marks. It didn't hurt. My skin turns red easily though. The hard pinched on my nipples were clothes pins. They were a bit too tight for my liking. They couldn't be adjusted.

"We need to get a real whip and nipple clamps."

"They should be here Tuesday," I said.

He looked at me and smiled. "You ordered them? Slut."

I just smiled. We laid down on the futon and I fell asleep with His arm around me. I wish we didn't have to work today. I would much

rather be at home with Him.

More Randomness...

*Note - I'm sick of saying Boyfriend, because that sounds so juvenile, so from here on out when I refer to Him I will refer to Him as R. - End Note*


I'm back in black.

OK. Burgundy Black. R wanted me to dye my hair black. Jet black. I have never gone completely black before. I was a bit hesitant. I found a Blue Black but that still made me nervous. So I picked out Burgundy Black. I think it looks pretty sweet. My whiny friend J did it for me Wednesday night. Then she put my hair in these rollers and it actually looked pretty cool. But that is something I never do.
She says that if I go any darker I will look too goth. Actually, she said "gawth". After she pronounced it that way I wanted to ask her if she knew what goth meant, but I let it go. We went up to *Our Favorite Bar* and everybody looked pretty shocked when I walked in. R said He was gonna get some strange that night. :) Yesterday I decided to cut bangs like I used to have. I look much younger. I'm sure J will have something to say about that too, after her going into great detail about how I should cut my hair in layers and not get bangs that short and blah, blah, blah.

She seemed kind of quizzical of the way R talks to me. We were all eating dinner and He wanted another meatball sandwich so He got up and made Himself one. I told Him He should have said something and I would have gotten it for Him. He said I should have known He wanted one and just got it for Him. Which I would have had He been eating in the same room as J and I but He was in the living room watching Deliverance. Then He smiled at me. J looked at me kind of funny and gave him the stink eye. She said that one time S told her "Go get me a beer, bitch!" in front of all of his hunting buddies. Apparantly she shot him a nasty look and he supposedly apologized, went and got his own beer and then asked if she wanted one. She said she was like "That's right! Don't ever talk to me that way." She also said a few more things that led me to believe that she in no way would let a man control her at all, and got the raised-eybrow look from R. I don't know if he caught me glancing at Him, but I was thinking, hello, this is why her relationships keep failing. They've been together on and off for several years now, and she was whining to me about how she gave him an ultimatum to marry her and if he will marry her she will only have 1 child instead of 2 like she really wants. The fact that he is divorced with 2 half grown children and has no desire to go down the baby route agin doesn't matter to her at all. Or that she had to give him an ultimatum to marry her. Or that he still hasn't said he would.

Yeah, that's gonna work.

Anyway, I am in a really bad mood today. Sometimes the Boss Woman here just rubs me the wrong way and today is one of those days. Also, one of the snot managers around here pissed me off. I think it bugs her that she really doesn't have any control over me, and I don't kiss her ass like everyone else does. I feel like she has it out for me. I just really don't like it here sometimes, and this is one of those times. But the truth is, I'm just not an ass-kisser. I don't care how much money you make, or what kind of car you drive, or how fake your tan is, or who you are married to. You are not better than me. And having all that does not give you the right to be rude and look down on your "subordinates". Or not give them a chance to sign the card for Boss's day. That'll make me look really good that my name is the only one in the office not on there. Bitch.

I should be in a better mood though, it's Friday, payday, and R sent me a pajama gram for Sweetest Day. He's not really into *fake* holidays like this, so I thought it was really sweet. And they have Midori now at *Our Favorite Bar*. I love Midori. I think I'll have one or two or three tonight...

Cheers.

Oops. Where are my panties?

Monday I was off work for Columbus Day. I was pretty lazy. I had promised to clean the house, but all I got done was the vacuuming. Not very ambitious, I know.

Earlier in the day, I had been to the doctor for my annual not-so-fun checkup. Then I did some shopping. I had some gift certificates from my birthday to use. I pulled into the parking lot of one of my favorite stores, and was chatting on the phone with Boyfriend, who was still at work. Suddenly I felt an evil burning on the left side of my face. I glanced up and saw psycho-bitch-from-hell staring me down, with youngest daughter in the car with her. Fuck. She must have been off for Columbus Day too.

She slowed WAY down, and tried her hardest to kill me with her evil stare. Youngest daughter was staring straight ahead. I'd like to think she just didn't see me, but I have a feeling she did and was simply smart enough not say "Hey Mom, look who it is!" She pulled into a spot closer to the store, and got out. Boyfriend is right. Her hair is fuzzy. Oh, goodness. I guess I am the evil one.

Anyway, I wasn't quite sure what to do. I surely didn't want a confrontation with her in front of youngest daughter. I didn't think that she would actually say anything to me, given the last time we were face to face at oldest daughter's soccer game, she simply glared and me and marched her plump behind down to the other end of the field. What if youngest daughter DID decide to come up and say hi to me? Of course I would say hi back, and I would be polite and say hello to PBFH too, but I don't know what she would to. Probably just turn and stomp off. Of course, she could deck me too. Accuse me of trying to steal her daughters. Call me a whore. I decided not to take a chance and left.

I went to another store, picked up some odds and ends, my prescription, hair color. Then I went to another store I had a gift certificate for. I found a cute flared corduroy skirt, and a lingerie-type top. Perfect. I happily left with my selections, after paying a penny to the cashier, because my total was exactly 1 cent higher than my gift certificate.

Monday night we decided to go to dinner. There is a little diner that just relocated to our old town, so we thought we'd go check it out. I'm always game for greasy food. Boyfriend took a shower, and I decided to change. I put on my new skirt and knee high boots. He looked suprised when He got out of the shower, but pleased.

We got in the jeep and headed to the diner. I looked over at Him, and He was concentrating on driving. I casually said, "Oh, look, there is a slit in the front of my skirt. Guess, I'll have to watch the way I sit." He glanced down and I opened up my skirt to reveal that Oops! I had *forgotten* to put on any panties. His eyeballs widened and he jerked the wheel. I love when I can get that kind of reaction from Him. He said He was expecting a thong, not that.

We got to the diner and I realized I really would have to watch the way I sat, because the booth's seats were far away from the table, and I was basically sitting on the edge of the seat. Across from me was a man who I KNOW was trying to sneak a peak. I thought of doing the whole Sharon-Stone-in-Basic-Instinct uncrossing and crossing of the legs, but didn't. The worst part was He couldn't reach me under the table if He wanted to. I should have asked Him to sit next to me so He would have something to do while waiting for our dinner.

We finished and He unlocked my door for me, stating that He just wanted to watch me get in. We went to *Our Favorite Bar* to see our group of friends. At the bar He was able to rest his hand high on my thigh and reach over and touch me with no one really noticing. All I could think about was the ride home and Him fingering me on the way.

Finally we left, and as soon as the heat kicked in, His hand pulled my legs apart and He began teasing my clit. I was quiet, except for a deep breath now and then. Every once in a while He would ram a finger in me, and then pull it back out and go back to work on my clit. By the time we got home, I could hardly stand it. We got out of the jeep and He told me to hurry up and feed the dog. I went in to feed her, and He started gathering the garbage as the next day was garbage day.

I stopped Him in the basement, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned His pants and unzipped Him. I had to have Him in my mouth right then and there. I freed His hard cock and began sucking and licking it. He let me for a while, then pushed me away to finish taking out the garbage. I sulked upstairs and He told me to make his coffee and be ready for Him to fuck the hell out of me after He got back in. I went to the side door to let the dog out and He stopped me by the dining room table, bent me over, dropped His pants and fucked me from behind. Then He stopped and went out to finish with the garbage. I made his coffee and He came back in and led me to the living room. He pushed me down on my knees and bent me over the futon. I don't know how He got His clothes off so fast, I barely had enought time to grab a pillow to put under my belly to protect my belly button ring.

He started fucking me from behind again, at first slowly, then faster, then Oh-my-god-fucking-hard-don't-stop-it-hurts-and-feels-good-all -at-the-same-time. He stopped again and laid down on the floor. He wanted me to sit on Him, but not on my knees. I had to squat over Him and He helped me as I fucked him - lifting me up and down, up and down. Probably would have been really good exercise but I was a bit sore from my doctor appointment. He said that it was ok, but I started to cry anyway. I hate when there is something wrong with me that ruins the moment. He told me not to cry because He was going to let me suck Him off. Truth be told, I would have probably been fine on my back, or on my hands and knees but I could tell that was what He wanted.

He sat down in the recliner and I sucked and licked and stroked him. He likes when I rub my lips along the bottom of his shaft. It took a while for Him to cum, which had me worried that I was doing something wrong. I am hoping that it had more to do with Him being tired and having a few beers. If not, I wish He would tell me what I was doing wrong. But He did cum, and it was all over my hand and face, which I know He likes.

Next time I wear that skirt, I'm going to be ready for a full-fledged fucking. I wanted it bad. Damn doctor...

Girls Nite Out

KT has rented a limo. There are about 7 of us meeting at *Our Favorite Bar*. At 7:30. Then we are heading out for about 5 hours. It should be interesting. I've never been in a limo. I have no idea what to wear. I may ask Boyfriend to pick out my clothes for me. I just know I am not allowed to wear a skirt. One of the bars we are going to allows the girls to dance on the bar. I can see His point. :)

Boyfriend is going to try to occupy NY tonight so he won't be mad at T for going out. Their relationship is not going so well. He is a very selfish man. I told her the other night I feel guilty because my life is so good now, and it isn't right for me to be happy if one of my friends is not. But she brings on a lot of her problems on her own. She really needs to stop drinking so excessively. It is a vicious cycle. She is sad, so she drinks, and gets completely hammered. Then she spends all of her money (or loses it) and then NY gets mad at her, so she drinks again, and so on. You get the idea. It's not my job to fix her, though. I can only offer friendly advice and hope that eventually she figures it all out.

Hopefully tonight we can all just have fun.

I'll let you know...

You don't know who this is....

4:24 PM. Friday.

My phone rings at work. I answer, noticing that the caller ID says "Unknown". I hate that. But I figure it is CC calling to see if I am still going with her when she gets her tattoo.

"Hello?"

*Man's voice* "Hello. Are you allowed to get personal phone calls at work?"

"Umm, yeah, as long as I don't talk too long." Who the fuck is this?

"You probably don't know who this is. It has been a while since I've talked to you." OK, rules out a telemarketer. "Before I tell you who this is, I have to tell you how I got your number. I clean offices and I saw your picture with your phone number so I took it. Then I saw a picture of one of my in-laws on the list too. So you can't let anyone know you are talking to me or how I got your number because it's against company policy for me to do something like this."

At first I couldn't figure out what the heck he was talking about. Why would my picture and phone number be in somebody's office? Then I remembered we have these customer service directories at work that we send to all of our clients, and this is another good reason to hate them. They have our picture, name, title, phone number and extenstion on them. So now, not only do our customers know what we look like and to get a hold of us, so does anyone who sees this directory. Including the cleaning crew.

I still didn't know who it was, but the voice did sound familiar. I was racking my brain trying to place the voice, as he rambled on nervously about owning half of a cleaning company and he could get in a lot of trouble for doing this, blah, blah, blah. I was trying to remember someone from my past who would say something sketchy like this.

Then it hit me.

"OK, I'm going to say 2 initials and you're going to tell me if I'm right or not."

"OK"

As always, names are changed to protect me. I don't really care about anybody else.

"J"

"Yep"

"B"

"Yep"

"Joe Blow. What is up?" Now I said that in a totally calm, almost irritated way. I'm sure it wasn't the 'Oh-my-gosh-I-can't-believe-it's-you-after-all-this-time' reaction he was going for, because he sounded a little hurt.

"Well, I hope you aren't mad that I called. I just couldn't believe it when I saw your picture and I know I shouldn't have taken it but I really wanted to talk to you and I didn't think you'd get upset."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm still pretty cool."

"Then I couldn't believe it when I turned the paper over and saw my in-law on there. So you can't say anything."

Why would he be so worried about getting caught calling an old friend. Hmm. Maybe because he was always a slimeball with an ulterior motive? Like sleeping with me back when I was a naive teenager, and then never talking to me again? At least, not until I was involved in another relationship...or just coming out of one.

"So who is this person that can't know, and how are you related?"

"J.E. She is friends with T.R. in your office who is also friends with my sister. J.E. is my wife's brother's-in-law sister-in-law." Or something like that. It didn't really sound like a close relation, but whatever."And they are always trying to convince my wife that I am cheating on her."

"Really. How shocking."

"So don't say anything."

"OK. Whatever."

"So, how have you been, whatcha been up to?"

Uh-huh. "Divorced since the last time you saw me." Jackass.

"Really?" Yeah. As if you didn't know that and it has nothing to do with the reason you are calling.

"Yep."

"So what else, what do you do in your spare time?"

"Work as a barmaid on the weekends, at *My Favorite Bar*."

"Oh really? I used to go there all the time!" Yeah. I bet you did. "So what else? What do you do for fun."

"Ride. Motorcycles."

"Really, you have a motorcycle?"

"Yes. But I'm selling it. I usually ride my Boyfriend's fatboy now, if I'm not riding with Him."

"Oh." What's a matter? Caught you off guard with the boyfriend statement?

He then proceeded to ramble on again, about his motorcycle (crotch rocket - should have known) and his cleaning business and how he's married with a 3 year old girl and a son on the way, and how he needs to settle down and will probably sell the bike. I proceeded to throw in little digs about having to drive too fast (because he always did) and how he was the last person I ever expected to get married and have kids, especially in that order, and that he should sell the bike and get a minivan with a soccerball sticker in the back window.

He said that just because he was wild and crazy in his younger days, and did some stupid things, that didn't mean he couldn't change.

Right. And why were you calling again? And why does it have to be a secret?

"So, do you want to go to lunch sometime? I'm off during the day because I clean at night."

How convenient. Unfortunately, this is when I lost my cool. Any smart ass comments I had for him were gone. I couldn't just say no.

Why not? I didn't owe him anything. I shouldn't feel the need to be nice to him. He should be saying to me, hey I'm really sorry for letting you think I was a nice guy back then and for fucking you and making you leave right afterwards and then never calling you again until I thought you were having problems with your new boyfriend. And then "running" into you a few years later, right before you got married and then again, a few years after that.

I must have hesitated for too long, because he said, "Tell you what. I'll give you my cell phone number, and if you want to go to lunch sometime, call me."

I took his phone number. I had no intention of ever going to lunch with him. I did want his number for caller ID purposes.

And I did tell him that if he wants to see me, he should stop into *My Favorite Bar* when I am working. I'd like to see his face when I introduce him to Boyfriend.

Fucker.

********************************

I called Boyfriend, who was still working, and told Him this story. He doesn't know Joe Blow. I think I have only mentioned him a few times. I was laughing, in shock a little, saying, "you are not going to believe this one." As soon as I got to the part about him asking me to lunch, He interrupted.

"You said no, right???"

"Well, no."

"What? You are NOT going to lunch with him."

"I know."

"So why didn't you tell him no?"

"I told him if he wanted to see me he could come up to *Our Favorite Bar* and see me."

"No. He better not."

"Why not? I'd like for him to meet you."

"I don't think so."

"C'mon, it'll be funny. You might like him."

"I don't think so."

He sure was jealous about the whole thing. With absolutely no reason to be.

*****************************

My mother, on the other hand, found the story as amusing as I did. I think we said "What a schmuck", simultaneously, more than once, and had quite a laugh over what a fool he is. She knew him. I neglected to remind her that, back then, she though he was a great guy too, just the way she thought my ex-husband was a great guy. But I didn't, because it doesn't matter. I have learned to trust my judgment, not hers. She did allow me an ego boost, though, by saying that guys always realize how cool I am once they dump me and then they want me back. I am pretty damn cool as far as girlfriends go.

******************************

A little while later I talked to Him again on the phone. At some point He mentioned something about this guy wanting to fuck me.

You think? I'm a girl, yes, but not quite as naive as I used to be. I knew that. Why else would he call, and want it all kept a secret? If he truly wanted to hang out with an old friend, he would have said so, or mentioned, I don't know, meeting Boyfriend perhaps? And he doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell with me anyway. He had his chance years ago, and chose to fuck it all up. This happens to me once in a while. An old boyfriend will magically reappear in my life and tell me how much he misses me or that he'd really like to "get together" sometime. Right. Shoulda thought about that before, bucko. I am not a very forgiving person.

At this point I realized that He may genuinely be worried about my interest this guy. He has no idea who he is. And I guess I did seem rather giddy about the phone call. That was because I was shocked and amused by the absurdity of it. Not because I was glad that he called.

"You know, you don't need to worry about this guy."

"I know. And you aren't allowed to go to lunch with him."

"I wasn't going to anyway. The thought never crossed my mind that it would be acceptable for me to meet him for lunch. " Plus, I wouldn't be comfortable with him going to lunch with an old girlfriend, and hoped if that tables ever turned he would remember this. And I didn't want to to anyway.

"I know. So call this guy and tell him to meet you at *Our Favorite Bar*. I would like to see the creep."

"Well, I really don't want to lead him on. Let's just see if he shows up."

I really don't want to call this guy. I don't want to give him the impression that I would be interested.

But I will be watching for him Saturday night, out of curiousity, to see if he does show up. I would enjoy watching his squirm in front of Boyfriend and all of our male friends. He probably won't show.

Damn. That could have been entertaining.

And this was a good idea because.....?

My belly hurts. Friday, for some reason, I decided it would be a fine idea to get my belly button pierced. A friend asked me to go with her for moral support because she was getting a tattoo. I wanted a tattoo as well, but couldn't decide on exactly what I'd want. Given that the thing is permament, I decided I'd better wait until I found exactly what I want.

Boyfriend really wanted me to get a tattoo. Not only did I not know what I wanted, but I really would rather go with Him to get my first one anyway. I did feel that I couldn't leave without something, I didn't want to disappoint Him. I looked at the fake tattoos, but that seemed silly. So I went next door and had a beer or two, and CC came over for a shot of courage while she was waiting for her turn to permanently mar her body. The release forms ask if you have had any alcohol in the last 4 hours, though it didn't say why they needed to know. So we decide she would just lie.

She went back over, and I followed a little bit later. She was still waiting for them to finish drawing up her tattoo. I was wandering around again and found a case with all kinds of body jewelry in it. It was about that time I felt the need to spear myself with a sharp metal object. At least then I would be leaving with something, and I could take it out if I really didn't like it.

"How much is a piercing?" I asked.

"Between $40 and $50 depending on what you get."

"OK. I'll do that."

"Just fill out this form".

Then I got to lie about the alcohol part. I'm not sure if there is some danger in getting a tattoo or body piercing while under the influence, or if they just don't want people coming back saying, "Dude, why'd you let me do that? I was drunk!" I decided that I would have done this whether or not I'd had two beers, and that two beers can't be that dangerous, and sat in the chair to wait my turn.

"You gettin' the piercing? C'mon back here."

Have you ever watched Ripley's Believe it or Not? When the people pop their eyes out of their sockets? That's what this guy looked like. I thought he was messing with me. But his eyes stayed like that. It made mine water.

"What are ya gettin' done?"

"My belly button."

"Oh come on. That's boring. All girls get that. Why don't you do something different?"

"Such as?"

"Something industrial, we could put a bar in your ear, or your nose, or your nipple."

"Umm, no thanks. Just my belly button please. I don't want anything really freaky."

"That's not freaky." Said the bug-eyed man with a spear sticking out of his face. "Why don't you at least pierce the bottom of your belly button, instead of the top? Tuck your shirt up into your bra."

He kneeled down in from of me and analyzed my belly button. I don't think I've even had anyone look so closely for so long at my belly button. I hoped I didn't have any lint in there. Finally he stood up and said, "Ok, you're right. We'll just do the top."

I don't know if that means that my belly is to fat for a ring on the bottom or what, and I almost took offense to it. Except I was too relieved to know I was not going to have a barbell stuck through any other part of my body I had never considered. He marked the spot and cleaned it.

"Sit down." He gestured toward a scary- House-of-a-1000-Corpses-black chair.

"Oh. That's like a scary dentist chair," I said as I sat down.

Suddenly, he flipped out 2 feet stirrups, and I remembered I am due for my annual. "No. Now it's scary." He laughed.

Oh, hell no. Not funny.

Then, he was all business. Getting out tools that looked like they belong in a garage, from a Craftsman toolbox, no less (I guess I was expecting a sewing box?), and this really, really, really thick needle. Holy shit, was that a big needle.

"...no alcohol, no peroxide, only sea salt and water. If you don't remember anything else I tell you, it's not pus. Pus is green..."

"Are you gonna warn me before you do this, or are you just gonna do it?" I asked as he reclined the scary-dentist-easy-to-be-raped-if-I-pass-out chair.

"Mmm, I'm probably just going to do it."

Right then, I felt the most uncomfortable, horrible pain in that area that I have ever felt. I mean, I figured it would hurt, but I had no idea it would hurt that bad. I've had my ears pierced, 9 holes in all. I even pierced my belly button once before (the wrong way, with a regular ear piercing gun). I was expecting something more like that. But no. This wasn't even close.

He looked at me and said "Breathe..."

Good thing, because I had forgotten to. I heard him say "Come, on" and I started thinking "Yes, come on already, too much more and I'm going to pass out."

I felt something else then, a little less painful, which, I assume was the barbell. Then he put the end on, and said, "Ok, you're done." He looked at it to make sure it was ok, old me not to touch it unless I was cleaning it, and handed me instructions on how to clean it. I went out, paid, and went back next door. I needed a beer. CC was done a few minutes later, and we were exchaning our painful stories.

Sounds to me like hers was less painful than mine, with the expection of the longer outlines in her tattoo. I must have been really freaked out by the pain, because she asked me if it hurt, and as I was telling the story, I felt a panic attack coming
on. "C'mon," I thought to myself. "Quit being such a wimp." But no, it continued to get darker and quieter and I felt more pressure in my head. Somehow, I managed to quickly finish my story and told her I had to go to the restroom. I walked in there, and stayed in there until I could see clearly again. I hate when that happens. This one wasn't as bad as the ones I've had before, but I think that is because I removed myself quickly enough to stop it before it got worse.

I went back out and she asked if I was ready to go. I must have looked ok. So we left and went back to our regular bar to talk about our fun evening.

Boyfriend did seem a little disappointed when I told Him I didn't get a tattoo. I explained to Him that I just didn't want to do it on a whim, but I did get some good ideas for what I want. He wants another one, so we will probably go together. Then I showed Him my belly and He smiled. I remembered that He'd mentioned wanting me to do that too, so I knew He'd be pleased. He was.

Now I just have to work up the courage to get my tattoo. Of course, it will be a while, since I want it on the small of my back, and I can't lay on my belly yet.

That shit is mine

To the asshole(s) that decided it would be a good idea to steal my CDs out of my Jeep last night while I was working...

Fuck you, you fucking fuck(s). That shit was mine, I work hard for my shit and you think you can just go and take it so you can make your measly 20 bucks off of 3 country CDs and a Joe Cocker CD to buy your fucking bag of weed.

I'm about 90% sure I know who you are, but because the damn bar owner won't actually RECORD what the video camera surveys in the parking lot, I can't prove it. So, you win, fucker(s). You got my shit. I guess I made enough in tips to replace the shit you stole. And some of it was probably from you. Fuck you.

But hey, don't worry about it. I believe in karma. I even have a feeling that I know why mine was bad last night and allowed that to happen to me. But you, mother fuckers, if this is part of your normal day to day activity, then your karma sucks, and believe me, it will come back to bite you in the ass. I probably won't know when it does, but that's ok. I take satisfaction in believing it will.

But for the record, if you come into my fucking bar again, you best believe you aren't going to be dealing with the funny, flirty barmaid you saw last night.

Oh hell no.

Don't fuck with me. Bitch.