I am agonizing now over these blogs. What have I done? First I revealed that whole ugly Cigi thing, and now I have given you the impression that I am the kind of woman who would angle for more than one man in an evening and who might cheat on a good friend…er…cousin, and a woman who might just go for a friendly frock with a stranger from the local grocery store at the drop of a hat or the flash of a lustful leer. And really, I am just a sweet demure southern lady, looking for “the one” with whom I will have instant chemistry, who is my soulmate and my sole mate, a man who is honest and financially and emotionally stable, who makes more than $100,000 a year and who lives to support me in the style to which I could easily become accustomed. (Frock! I certainly hope he has a healthy libido and enjoys bringing me flowers and chocolates as well. Is that too much to ask for in one man?)
I am driven to entertain adoring masses. (You do adore me, don’t you?) If you find me entertaining, you might also find entertainment at Radio Music Theater. You can check out parts 1 and 2 for more information on it. If you haven’t already read parts 1 and 2, you will want to read them anyway so you know what the frock I am writing about here. I know, that sentence is not grammatically correct, but please overlook it this one time.
“Would tomorrow or Monday work better for you?” I inquired, remembering his socks and the condoms I had tossed into the magazine rack. Another day or two would give us both a chance to get our sh…selves better prepared.
“Either day is fine,” he replied.
“Well, how about tomorrow afternoon, about 3:30 or 4?” I suggested. If it was good, I planned on keeping him totally unhealed until Tuesday morning; if it was not so great, I could have him out by dinner – maybe catch something with George, my cousin. That was just fine with him, so I gave him directions to my place.
I tell my neighbor when I have a stranger coming over for spiritual healing. He’s a former FBI agent, so if something happened to me, he’d investigate. He also has a copy of my will, so he’d know who to notify. A single girl in the big city can’t be too careful. I made a note to tell Don that Edgar Allan Poe was coming tomorrow afternoon. I put it on my refrigerator.
I washed my hands and got out a big microwave safe bowl. I ripped the pound cake into small pieces. I opened the can of pie cherries and spooned the contents on top. Next came a generous squeeze of chocolate syrup. I popped it into the microwave.
I picked up the puppy from the floor at my feet where she’d been crying ever since I’d deposited her on the floor to answer the phone. “What am I going to do with you?” She snuggled up closer to me as I searched for a clock. The only one I could find was an old electric clock radio that clicked as the hands tried unsuccessfully to move off 3:25. I laid it down in the entry which had the only uncarpeted space in the house outside of the kitchen. I arranged a couple of boxes as a barricade across the opening from the entry to the living room, found two little plastic bowls, and after filling one bowl with water and the other with puppy chow, I introduced my puppy to her new quarters. She needed bedding, I decided, so I found a pillow sham and added that. She drank a little water and then tried in vain to get back to me.
The microwave dinged and I washed my hands and retrieved my “black forest” concoction. I spooned a generous portion of the whipped topping into the bowl and headed for bed. I sat in bed savoring the chocolate and cherries and thinking about the man with whom I would share carnal pleasures on the next afternoon. Edgar Allan Poe. I wondered idly if I was the first or only woman that night to be the recipient of his lustful look, or if I was just the first and only woman to go for it. For all I knew I might not even be his type. For all I knew, he preferred the red-headed schoolteacher type. I didn’t really care about any of that though. My black forest concoction was delectable – just what I needed. So was the frock I was getting tomorrow – just what I needed that is.
My puppy was whimpering and crying pathetically. When I had finished my bowl of cake and cherries, I brought the bowl back to the kitchen and on my way back to bed scooped her up and wrapped her in the shirt I’d worn to the store and deposited her on the other side of the bed. She untangled herself from the shirt, crawled over to me and we both fell asleep.
more to come… I may have to go out and buy some chocolate pound cake and pie cherries...Where are those shorts?
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| Another facet...A pup and a pop Pt3 |
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