coquetterie

Ishall say from the outset: I hardly paid attention in my obligatory psychology and sociology classes when I was in University. My point of view comes from discussions with others as well as what I experiend.

Sexuality, for most people, is fluid. It ebbs and flows from one point to another. If you are lucky enough to settle down with a partner, you undoubtedly might notice the give and take in your relationship. I certainly have seen it in past relationships. I think, there are a very lucky few that are wired one particular way without the desire to flow towards the opposite for balance. Their state is natural, whether dominant or submissive.

The rest of mankind, that is a bit of a sticky widget, really. What makes it thus is all the norms and roles that society associates with genders. Add on to that, the roles we take on in our family and it can be compounded further.

Society formerly told us that women are the homemakers; men bring home the bacon. I think we can all agree that today those roles are shared in many homes. Yet, if we delve into each family, how many men or women hand over their pay to a spouse for budgeting purpsoses? How many retain separate accountings and have agreed to pay for specific items?

The same can be said for relationships in the bedroom. Some times, the man is the dominant partner and the woman the submissive. Yet, there are stretches or times when the woman may desire to ’switch’ her role and take charge. She may want to guide and lead intimate activities and she does by taking control and placing her man in the submissive place. And, for those of you female dominants seething out there, I chose this example to make your skin crawl. See, I can be petty and not above a bit of baiting.

In my time, persuing the internet, clubs and groups, my nosiness led me to discover that many find those who switch unpalatable. Is there a perception that those who ebb and flow can’t make up their mind? Is that they want to have the best of both worlds? Surely, those that enjoy the ebb and flow of their sexual dymanics are greedy. I mean, really, it couldn’t seriously be because they are wired that way.

While the perfect term, switch, as noted, has too many negative connotations. It needs replacing. I just have no idea what it ought to be re-named. I don’t think fluid or the like works, though. A person just doesn’t wake up in the morning and say, I’m tired of being the bottom; I’m going to take charge today, switch things up and be the top.

So, to all of you arguing on the internet about domination and submission, let’s not forget the majority of people (in my opinion) kinky or not that just ebb and flow. Like dominants or submissives they feed off the power exchange, too. And, also like them, they too are wired this way.

Technorati Tags: fludity, sexuality, natural born

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A friend, exasperated with my list-making and seemingly Seinfeldian-reasoning for ignoring men, recently posed the question, “What are you looking for in a man?”

Without hesitation I answered, “A man’s man. That’s what I want.”

Finding a man’s man is difficult. In my experience, men today don’t exude that aura. They compromise. They don’t stride in when others fail to live up to expectations. Granted, there are a few left out there that do.

Self-confidence plays a large part in this character’s development. Self-aware, he eschews grand displays of bravada for bravada’s sake. He retreats from the limelight. He allows attention to find him; he does not seek it out.

He enjoys looking his best. He doesn’t spend hours with unguents, potions and pots of lotion. He knows the worth of ‘bed-head’ in attracting a woman. The allure of the five o’clock shadow, a knowing smirk and a wicked gleam in his eye are all the accessories he might need.

He wears the clothes; they don’t wear him. He enjoys dressing well or dressing down. What he wears is a matter of personal style and taste, not what the glossies tell him to wear.

He enjoys life and lives it. He’s not filled with ‘could-have-beens’ or ‘I-should-haves.’ He enjoys company in his pursuits or he can enjoy them on his own. He is comfortable in his own skin and with his own company.

I’m looking for a man that takes care of himself. Confidence oozes from his pores. Yet, at the same time, he doesn’t allow the attention he receives to make him cocky or self-centered. His attitudes aren’t cavalier. His emotions don’t swing from hot to cold and then back again. He knows what he wants and how to go about getting it. He voices his opinions, even if unpopular. He can be the life of the party or he can enjoy time spent alone enjoying his vices. I want a man that doesn’t give a damn about what other’s think yet is mindful of others and their feelings.

All-in-all, a rather difficult man to find that hasn’t already been snatched up by someone. The below image I found on d-listed. It is of Tom Ford and, for me, he epitomizes a man’s man.

Carly Simon: You’re So Vain: Carly Simon: Clouds in My Coffee 1965-1995 [4:18]

Technorati Tags: men, Tom Ford

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“No pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater…than central air.”

This was said in Dogma by Azreal (portrayed by Jason Lee) and is probably my favorite movie quote since it is also SO true

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To some extent, watching the news or reading it in America falls into the category of info-tainment. Celebrities routinely make headlines when their lives spiral out of control. Salacious details are served on a platter to eager, intrusive, viewers. In this last few years, it has grown by leaps and bounds and I find it disturbing.

When former President Clinton had an affair, women vented their outrage at Hillary. How can you stand by your cheating, lying husband that broke and/or abandoned your wedding vows. At the same time, she was offered support by these same women. Some experienced, first hand, her pain. Others, like myself, couldn’t imagine the pain and strife this caused both for her personally and her family.

Let us fast forward ten years later, another Democrat is in the hot seat. This time Elizabeth Edwards is being roasted in news articles and blogs. This post isn’t about the political implications of her decision, rather the intrusion she faced into her private and personal lives.

First let me pose the question: Do we expect our politicians to be SO squeaky clean that nary a bubble of suds is left on them? Living up to this standard is impossible. Everyone has skeletons of some sort in the closet. I’m much more likely to support a candidate with admitted foibles than one that is squeaky clean and, in my opinion, to good to be true.

I didn’t agree with the platform of Mr. Edwards. I found Elizabeth Edwards incredibly courageous to face her battle with cancer while campaigning for her husband. The tragedy that they both have suffered in the past few years has been great, yet, they persevered.

When the scandal developed in the tabloids, the main stream media ignored it. I’m certain they thought there was nothing to it. However, as it became clearer that there was truth to the matter, they pounced on it. As I said, I will not discuss the political implications. I’m more concerned about privacy issues.

Mrs. Edwards clearly knew about the affair. She asked that close friends and family not speak about it. She and Mr. Edwards, worked through this trauma together, hopefully resulting in a stronger bond. If this is her decision, who are we to judge her for it?

On a personal level, why does the public need to know about the transgressions of any marriage? If she chose to keep his transgressions close, would any of us blame her? It’s none of our business if he husband had slept with 100 women. It’s her personal choice.

At a time when a woman is facing an eventual terminal battle with cancer, her husband confesses to an extra-marital affair. If this happened to you, would you want to share your pain with the world? Or, would you curl up with close friends and family, and try to sort everything out?

At the end of the day, what people decide to do on issues that effect their personal lives, is none of my (or anyone’s) damned business. Everyone makes mistakes and they have the right to atone for them as needed or necessary. John Edwards is not answerable to the citizens of America for his transgressions; he needs only to answer to Mrs. Edwards and their families. Mrs. Edwards has a difficult journey ahead of her. It’s only made worse that something so painful, at such a time, has been made public against her consent.

Technorati Tags: politics, politicians, elizabeth edwards, tabloid journalism, intrusive politics & journalism

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Undoubtedly someone, somewhere, will be pissed off by this post. More than one, I believe.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’m going to open up as much as I can (non-disclosure agreement and all that). I work for a boutique phonesex and domination agency. The majority of my clients are submissives seeking a Mistress. They are public figures, executives or high-profile men that cannot seek out a face-to-face Mistress. Or, they feel they are unable. Ergo, they find me.

This afternoon, an interesting discussion between a client and I erupted. We began by discussing submissiveness and dominance and what I like and why. What I prefer, at this point, isn’t germain to this conversation. It’s the point that I want to make; the point that I shared with the client. I mentioned that mainstream media (magazines, film and internet) project a stylized ideal of what a female dominant ought to be. And this ideal has no basis in reality save for a very small minority.

From that point, we moved into murkier waters What makes a submissive submissive? Why does a dominant dominate? To some, I explained, it’s gender roles. Men dominate and women submit. And suggesting that it’s that simple is wrong others would say.

Earlier this week? this month? two excellent writers, Bitchy Jones and Bad Man, aired their opinions. Generally, I agree with much of what Bitchy says. I think it’s completely ignorant to fetishize and sell an ideal of female domination when the majority of female dominants in no-way-or-shape resemble her. Yet, at the same time, I think the chip on Bitchy’s shoulder, from being different, clouds her judgment.

And her last post, I couldn’t finish it. I couldn’t focus on it. It just seemed like a lot of ranting at men: why they are wrong and she is correct, why female domination is wrong and she will be the savior of it.

Bad Man seems to suggest that dominance and submissiveness lie in the genetic code. And, whilst on some level, I agree. I just don’t believe it’s simply that cut-and-dry.

I work with men daily. They come in all shapes, sizes and colors like women. The men I speak with are type-A personalities, dominant and out-going in their public lives and careers. Yet, in the bedroom, they submit. Not only because they enjoy it, rather they need it. They crave submission. That is my experience.

Not all men are like this. Some may be genetically inclined towards submission; however, other factors intervene, pushing them to it. Some have only experience with overbearing or controlling women that shapes them. Some might have enjoyed their first experience with a partner and explored and grew in their submission.

Women can be born submissive or dominant just like men. Being wired, as I am, means that I am born this way and that’s okay. I have found that with dominance and submission, it is a give and take. A rare person can be purely submissive or dominant. I find that my mind is wired one way for sexuality, but it doesn’t always overflow into other aspects of my life. Outside influences do play a large part. I think we need to recognize that and accept it.

I told my client early that most people would never imagine that I did this for a job. Everyone mistakes my shyness, my reticence to speak publicly and politeness for being a doormat, a push-over. I am far from it. I have the ability to wind men around my finger and I revel in it. I love the rush of power it gives me, how it makes me feel.

So, in closing, I do not agree with the statement that men are dominants because of evolution or genetics. I do agree with the statement that men and women are dominant because of genetics and societal influences. The same, I say, for submissives. Members of both sexes can be wired either way. I’m certain there were overbearing and obnoxious cave women, you know.

Technorati Tags: BDSM, Bitchy Jones, Badman Badplace, Domination, Submission, D/s, Philosophy, personal opinion

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According to many men and women bountiful breasts remain a wonderous thing. Blessed with them, I must say they get on my nerves; especially, during certain times.

This week, I loathe them. It’s funny, I have a very ample, natural bosom. I pulled the last bra from the drawer this morning, a demi-bra. Normally, wearing it adds a sashay to my step and encourages me to feel rather mixish.

Not today.

The rest of this post falls, perhaps, under the heading of too much information, read on at your own risk.

I slipped into the bra, really a confection of pink and white lace, tulle and satin, after my shower. My brow furrowed as I felt the hook-and-eyes tighten and the band pulled tighter than usual around my torso. Tugging the bra carefully into place, my breasts filled the cups generously. Too generously. On the best of days, I’m a rather full D to a small DD. This demi-bra cup measures DD. I feel as if I overflow it.

Watching in the mirror, I guide the straps to rest upon my shoulders and I stare at my chest. I see the prominence of my collar bones, the straps glide over them. My eyes follow the line of the straps, tiny bows covering their joining the stronger fabric of the cups.

My breasts seem lifted, overgenerously pressed into the soft fabric cups. They rise and seem ready to overflow if I move the wrong way. I take a deep breath and they rise. Through the sheer white fabric of the cups, I can see twin nipples, hard, pressing against the fabric.

It always happens. They grow extra sensitive. The nipples ache when touched. They remain hard, ready and waiting for some sort of stimulation. No matter what I wear, their needy state remains on display.

Inspecting the rest of my body in the mirror. I see the tiny, nipped waist and offer a prayer of thanks for good genetics. I look at the seeminly more rounded hips clad in a matching pair of boy shorts. I can see the tell-tale signs in my hips and abdomen, too.

This seeming enhancement of my figure, I know, means for me to draw men’s gazes. Meant to entice them into experiencing the pleasure of my body and theirs. Really, these biological changes try to force me to dip my toe into the mating pool.

Shaking off these thoughts, I dip, pulling on a pair of low-rise fitted denim capri pants. I allow myself a moment of enjoying the way they cling to my ass. Then, I tug a tighter than normal t-shirt over my head. The slogan on the white background educates everyone that, “This is a green tee.”

Somehow, I’m not sure they will notice. Would you?

Now playing…Danity Kane: Bad Girl (feat. Missy Elliott): Welcome to the Dollhouse [4:01]

Technorati Tags: DD, cycles, tmi

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Normally, I am all too happy to live in Florida. Hurricane season is generally a whimper since I live so far inland.

We have the first storm of our season headed up the West coast. That means that we are in for rain and wind. I bought additional water, just in case.

The worst case scenario is that I will be sans power for a day of two. Much like in the past, it is not too earth shattering. I am just thankful that the storm is not worse.

Feel free to check up on me, I might try post pics during the storm, power permitting.

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Coconuts evoke memories of summer.

I grew up in the Northeast and in Florida. Our summer [family] vacation commenced the last two weeks in August as an end of summer rush. We spent two blissful weeks at Ocean City, Maryland every year, before moving to Florida.

My mind flips to the file folders of pictures and memories from these halcyon days. We rose early, Mom and Dad getting my sister and I ready for a day spent on the beach. Mom sorting breakfast and packing our lunches, whilst Dad herded us out of the kitchen for one last bathroom break before ushering us out the door. Mom always joined us later after tidying up the rental flat and putting our lunches together.

I ate, always, peanut butter and jelly, orange or grape soda and chips of some sort. Funny, isn’t it, how I can’t remember what anyone else had? Once Dad managed to get us out of the flat, we picked up our assorted items that we carried with us. My sister, the baby, hauled her buckets and spades, packed and stacked with an engineer’s precision. My father hauled the beach blanket on his shoulder, with the umbrella resting on it, a tight grip on my sister’s hand and two beach chairs in his other hand. By the time these trips ended, I just had to hang onto the chairs as I hauled two more chairs and other assorted paraphenalia.

We arrived with the life guards in the morning and left with them in the evenings. We staked out our claim on the beach, close to the shoreline. We also reserved spots for our downstairs neighbors and landlord. Every year it was the same people staying with us. Heavenly.

With the setup of our beach plot completed, Dad liberally applied the sunblock. Not just any sunscreen served, though. My sister and I epitomized Coppertone kids. The doe-eyed, brunette, I turned a lovely chesnut colour. My sister, the blue-eyed blonde burned. Funny, at puberty, our body chemistry morphed turning my sister into the chesnut and me the tomato.

Of all of this, what stands out most, the scent of summer. It mixes Coppertone with sand and salty-sea. If I close my eyes, I hear the squeals of the seagulls and the whistle of the life guards. Coppertone, somehow always links with coconuts for me. Even though, I don’t think that was the base scent.

What brings all of this crystally back to me, I discovered a new bath scent: Exotic Coconut from Bed Bath and Bodyworks. With base notes of sandalwood and musk, normally, I would run from it. You see, those two scents generally trigger and allergy attack.

This time, the scents seem diffused and weakened, not nearly as overpowering as on their own. It reminds me of hot days on the beach, splashing in the surf and my youth. It also serves to remind me of hot nights laying between crisp cotton sheets, feeling the water rush over me again and again. Finally, the coconut scent brings all the memories together.

Thanks to the addition of the musk and sandalwood, this coconut summer scent adds a new dimention: Passion. In the shower as I wash or when I spritz myself with the body spray, the deep, warm scent presses me to think of hot passionate nights. Clutching at another body, hot and warm, my sensory memory has come full circle.

Shwayze: Corona and Lime: Corona and Lime - Single [3:55]

Technorati Tags: summer vacation, summer sensations, heat, coconut, coppertone, beach, vacation, Schwayze, Corona and Lime

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Hah! You can set up thunderbird to have a global mailbox

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I need to find a way to manage email on a scale similar to outlook alas not using outlook…Suggestions?

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