coquetterie

Memorial Day falls on a Sunday this year.

For work-related purposes, we celebrate it on the preceeding Monday. Thus, it is Memorial Day weekend. For most professionals, it is a three-day weekend; as the British would say, it’s a bank holiday weekend.

It heralds the unofficial start of summer.

The weekend will be spent arguing with family, wrinkling my nose at hors d’oevres that I do not like at the family BBQ and avoiding the sun. I broil in the sun.

A few summer’s ago, I decided I wanted a bit of a tan. Whilst everyone worked, I snuck over to the ‘rents, and I borrowed their pool and loungers. I stretched out on a towel wearing a skimpy swimsuit. I unfasted the top, removed it and succeeded in soaking up the sun.

What did I not count on?

Oh, yes…I fell asleep. In the middle of the day, in the subtropics in late May.

I wanted some natural highlights in my hair, so I spread my hair out around me, put on my shades and closed my eyes to the glaringly bright sunlight. The trees whispered with the breeze. I heard bees buzzing and other natural sounds I did not recognize. I thought a short amount of time elapsed.

I. WAS. WRONG.

I looked at my skin, which through the darkened lenses of my sunglasses had a pink-ish cast. I pushed myself up…and nearly died. My skin was sore and tight. A foreshadowing of things to come. I wrapped a towel around myself, picked up my accoutrements and walked into the house.

My mother greeted me from the kitchen. After expressing shock because she was home early, she casually mentioned that she thought I was looking dreadfully red and thought perhaps she should get me out of the sun.

Pushing my sunglasses up onto my head, acting as an expensive hairband, I gaped at myself in the mirror. RED. The pinkish cast was a dream. I was as red as a lobster. Because I apparently drifted on a light layer of sleep, thinking little time had passed, I didn’t turn.

I only managed to cook half of myself. In the ensuing hours, the pain and tightness set in. If I could have, I would have stretched out, face down in a cooling bath of aloe. Needless to say, there was no blue, save for my pain-tinged sadness that Memorial Day weekend.

Please have a safe and lovely holiday weekend. And, remember your sunblock!

The Donnas: Take It Off: [2:40]

Technorati Tags: life, sunburn, summer, Memorial Day, Weekend

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I realize that I have been remiss. My posts about work have not been forthcoming. I aim to change that with this one.

My clients needs vary from call to call. I do not have one particular type. Some I prefer to speak with more than others. Of course, that can be said colleague, client, friend and so-forth. Even if they aren’t one of my favorites, I give them each 100%. It’s only fair. They pay exceedingly well for my time, company and delightfully wicked mind.

A few weeks ago, a client called with a specific request for our time together. He was working away from home and had a great desire to go shoe shopping. Now, being a girl that adores shoes, I certainly was intrigued. His idea: He will go from store to store whilst I browse their online selection, ideally, looking at the same shoes that he is. At the same time, I’m going to whisper in his ear what I would do with him if I had them on; or, where I would wear these gorgeous confections.

He stopped in three stores: Neiman Marcus, Sak’s Fifth Avenue and Barney’s New York. He browsed, ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at the delicious confections. He’d describe them to me and then I’d find them on the store website. We gave much love to Christian Laboutin, Miu Miu, Dior and so forth. There were infinite shoes to choose from. Although the stock at both Neiman’s and Sak’s were lacking, he thought.

His final stop at Barney’s New York yielded much better results. He saw a delicious pair of shoes. Black patent leather T-straps with a gold heel from Miu Miu. I looked them up online. Now, generally, I’d prefer a silver heel but I admitted they were gorgeous.

What’s not to love about these shoes? The call ended abruptly after this, after he asked for my shoe size. Which, I have to admit, I hated to tell since I have monstrously large feet. I wear a 10US, 40European.

A few minutes after the call ended, my boss called. She asked how the call went and said I should be receiving a package in the mail. Then asked if I had given my appropriate size to which I said yes. She said, I’m a lucky girl to receive them. Of course, does this count as a gift or income? I suppose that’s another question for the accountant.

Louis XIV: Your Shoes Are the Star of the Show: The Distances from Everyone to You - EP 3:06

Technorati Tags: work, clients, sessions

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The previous post, a tweet, alludes to what I did at lunch today. I hope you’ve been using your imagination between then and now.

Business lunches find me bored, generally. Lunch today certainly wasn’t any different. I sang the praises of documentation, web presence, FAQs and more to gray-haired, paunchy men in ill-fitting suits.You know the type. Old-fashioned and out-of-touch, they addressed me as sweetie, dear and honey. I told them an infinite number of times why they continued to lose ground to the competition: cheeky, upstart bastards.

While they rolled the foreign concepts of SEO, blogging and more around their heads, I caught the eye of a handsome man two tables over. Tall, bald and dimpled, he exuded confidence. His finger bare, I knew that doesn’t mean anything. I wasn’t looking for a commitment, just a little lunchtime flirtation. Surrounded by colleagues, he winked surreptitiously to me. I smiled in return.

As I flirted and picked at my lunch, a dollop of salad dressing landed on my lip at the corner of my mouth. I watched my prey. I felt his gaze on me. I knew his eyes watched my lips and what was to happen. My pink tongue slid over my red-stained lips, and with a deft flick, removed the salad dressing. His eyes widened a feral grin spread across his face.

I turned my attention back to the bickering and dickering gentlemen at my table. One solicitously asked if I felt well. I looked pinched and drawn. I wanted to scream that I’m just fine, getting hornier and hornier as my mind wandered, dwelling on what I would do with my new flirtatious friend.

I squirmed in my seat. I thought of how I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to push his chair back and slide onto his lap and ride him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck, then slide my lips against his, plunging my tongue into his hot, wet mouth. I wanted to pull his shirt apart, not bothering to unbutton it. I wanted to send the buttons flying across the restaurant so I could free his chest to my marauding hands.

Thinking these thoughts, I lurched from the table with a half-hearted excuse and I hurried to the ladies room. I pushed into the first stall and locked the door behind me. I braced against the cool brick wall. I could feel the fever of desire spreading through my body, I knew my cheeks flushed crimson, highlighting the stark contrast of my dark hair and creamy skin.

My fingers bunched my sun dress into my hands and pulled it thigh high. I freed one hand from the folds of material and let it skid to between my thighs. I pushed two fingers into the hot, wet folds of my cunt. Serendipity smiled upon me today, the one day I decide not to wear panties beneath my dress. My fingers plunged in and out of my cunt. My fingers brushed against my clit.

Before I could judge the time lapse, I came hard on my fingers. I could smell the scent enveloping me. I continued to self-fuck and caress until another hard, powerful orgasm rushed through me. Sagging against the wall, I caught my breath and I could hear the sound of the lively bathroom around me.

As always, I licked and sucked my fingers clean. I blotted my cheeks and forehead with tissue and flushed it away. I exited, went to the sink and washed my hands. A wicked, knowing grin played upon my lips, and I was shocked to realize only five minutes elapsed.

I returned to the table and sat in time to see my flirtatious friend and his group had left. My lunch companions remarked on my healthy glow and less pinched look. I replied that sometimes you need to accept the inevitable and just fucking do it…

Kraak & Smaak: Squeeze Me (feat. Ben Westbeech): Plastic People (Bonus Track Version) [3:17]

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On my own, I reduce showering to a series of brief, ritualized steps. It lacks the spontaneity of a partner’s assistance. I lather, wash, rinse and repeat from my head to my pedicured toes. I loofah, exfoliate and shave. Sensuality pushed aside for brevity and conservation.

With a partner, I relish showering and elevate it to a series of caresses, strokes and ritualized steps designed to entice. Spontaneity lurks around every curve, behind each pool of clinging suds. I lather, wash, rinse and repeat from the top of their head to the tip of their toes. I loofah, exfoliate and shave. Sensuality embraced, time forgotten until the water runs cold.

We dip into it, rinsing off quickly. Hands briskly usher the last of the suds from our bodies. The tap drips to a stop and we exit onto the thick bath mat. We wrap thick, luxurious cotton towels around each other. Hands stroke and rub, drying our moist skin and warming each other. When the towels drop, forgotten, we take stock of each other, sharing a knowing look…

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It was the waning week between Christmas Day and New Years. The week in which the lucky are on vacation; the unlucky must work. I was somewhere in the middle. I made my own schedule, picking and choosing the hours I wished to work. He was not so fortunate, on a weekly schedule. Nevertheless, we made time for each other.

We had met once before; we had drinks in a public bar in the middle between our two homes. He drank bud lights whilst I swilled strawberry margaritas. We flirted; we laughed. I spent a lot of time imagining his gorgeous lips, full and sexy on mine. He spent his time, he told me later, staring at my tits, thinking on their awesomeness. We had a little fun that afternoon, our inhibitions removed by the alcohol. Although, that’s a story for another day.

Back to the waning week, now. It was night. We agreed to meet at 9:30 at the fairgrounds, again half-way between our homes. The night was dark, damp and cool. I arrived slightly early. As I waited, I rummaged through my purse only to realize that my cell phone sat at home, on my bed. I grew worried as time passed as he had not yet arrived.

I fretted until he arrived. Tall, dark-haired, handsome and tattooed, I enjoyed our previous adventure. He stepped out into the cool night air. He helped me from my car, pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Hot, deep and hard, this kiss exuded need. His tongue dove into my mouth and I tasted him, the faint taste of the marlboros he smokes.

His hands roamed over the zip-up fleece that I wore. Beneath it, the only thing that stood between us was the delicate lace of my lingerie. His hands large on my breasts kneeded them as we continued to kiss, hard and deep. My fingers moved over his chest and then curled around his broad shoulders. The damp night turned wet, a cold drizzle started to fall. We gasped; he pulled my arms from around his necked and spun me around.

My bottom rested against his groin, his hands around me, gripping, massaging and stroking my breasts. His mouth made a meal of my neck. Teeth nibble and chewed at the tender skin. The only sounds echoing around us, our moans. I ground back against him and he rewarded me with a tighter grip and strangled sound of pleasure. We moved together two parts making a whole, synchronous machine.

His hand slipped upwards, between my breasts until I felt it on my neck. His touch, light yet strong as his fingers strummed over the sensitive skin of my neck, his mouth still tasting my neck. My hands reached behind me, grasping to feel him, to feel his cock. He sensed my eagerness to touch and tease him. I felt him pulsing beneath the denim. He bent slightly forward, whispered into my ear, “Get in the Jeep.”

We clambored into Jeep and fell over each other. Hands roamed, tongues fought, sounds ricocheted. Cramped and close described our quarters. My legs rested over his thigh. His hands snuck under the back of my top, cool against my bare skin. We played, teased and made-out like teenagers until we both gasped for more…

Technorati Tags: summer, jeep, lips, rain, cold, the holidays

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