Author: C S

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Updates and Rambles

New post! First substantive post in ages and I apologize to those who attempt to follow my blog for the total lack of updates over the last little while. Classes have kept me busy enough that my free time has been spent in mindless game mode and also staying up too late and being sluggish in the morning.

You may have noticed some updates to my website. I have removed the policies/procedures page and added an FAQ page. I feel the informality of FAQs serves me better than the intimidation of a formal policies page. It is a fine line to walk between inviting the shy to participate fully in a sensual and entertaining experience and discouraging those feeling as if their special snowflake qualities allow them to ignore, bend, or attempt to break my comfort zone. The vast majority of you do not fall into this category. I can assure you, if you enter my space with anticipation but no expectation, you are not among the benders or the breakers.

I have also made some changes to my rate structure. Because of the convenience and general awesomeness of my new incall, I am happy to roll out a 60 minute sensual touch experience. I have been on an evolutionary path towards being a therapeutic massage practitioner and in that journey I began to focus more on the deep tissue therapeutic massage than the lighter, more teasing sensual aspect. I realize that it takes different strokes for different folks and so I am beginning to (continuing on the evolutionary trend) diverge in session type from one common ancestor to two general descendants: FBSM and FBST.

When I think Full Body Sensual Massage, I think a quiet room, soft music, dim lighting, and firm strokes stretching and kneading the tension from your back, legs, and shoulders. There is a moment (or ten ;-P) of sensual contact between two bodies, one atop the other, pressing our selves together in tranquility and mounting arousal, then a release and a slow descent, all in the atmosphere of quiet, dim calm. The social aspect is downplayed or reserved for before/after and the arousal and release are part of the relaxation therapy, not the focus of the session. Your responsibility in this session is to relax and allow yourself to be pampered and treated, as you richly deserve. In order to address your entire body fully, without rushing, I find ninety minutes is the least I can manage.

When I imagine Full Body Sensual Touch, I think of giggling, moving, back and forth between teasing and tickling, flirtation, sustained arousal, interaction, and more vibrant energy. I imagine sharing a drink and a huge hug, lots of kissing and perhaps some hot grinding. It’s all about full body contact between two people restricting themselves to their teenaged experiences of fumbling enthusiasm and ‘chaste’ activity. I feel the naughty delight of holding ourselves back and taking pleasure in touch, wherever it may lead.

Keep in mind that these are two descendants of the same session. There will always be shared characteristics between the two, but I have (finally) realized that there are two very different ‘vibes’ for two very different sessions. I am able to create either experience and a range of experiences in between, I only need to know which suits your mood better. You can always change your mind or combine aspects of both, there are no hard and fast rules here.

As always, social time either on the couch or in the little cuddle closet (the one at the new place is much smaller, more like a ‘lounge closet’ so be aware) is always an available addition before or after at 50/hh. I highly encourage social time before a therapeutic session to give your mind time to clear. I also encourage you to consider ‘dessert’ first as the endorphin release can be a great assistant in the relaxation response. I’m developing a case study idea involving the benefits of release before/after therapeutic touch to enhance relaxation effects. I’ll publish more once I get it solidified and hone the techniques I need to accurately track progress. I’ll be soliciting volunteers once I get the experimental design ready 😉

This blog post started with this thought, then I derailed it with my updates. In any case, I hope you enjoy my mind rovings 🙂

Are you a spiritualist or a skeptic? I ask because the explanation which makes sense is different for the two, but the outcome is the same.

For the spiritualist: We are connected deeply to each other and feel each other’s energy flows. We pick up on signals our bodies give each other and those signals, those first few signals we send each other, dictate in a great deal how we relate to one another. If our energy comes from a place of reservation, shyness, or insecurity, we convey that fearful energy to those we meet. We tell them we are afraid and make ourselves vulnerable to them. If we carry strong, confident energy, we send signals that people respond to. This is why leaders can be wrong, evil, ineffective, and contradictory yet we follow them regardless: they carry strong, confident energy and it overwhelms our own. Their spirit captures ours and subjugates it in small and big ways. By projecting our own strong energy, we can counteract that effect and allow ourselves to step back from a situation’s energy and make decisions based on thought and reason.

For the skeptic: There was a time in human history when we were not able to speak. Communicate, yes, but form words or language, no. In order for a highly social species to cooperate and survive, we relied on cues from motions and body language in addition to what vocalizations we could create. Those subtle cues are present to this day but because we rely so heavily on words and voices, we forget the impact nonverbal communication has on our instinctive responses. When we encounter someone taller and larger, we already assume a subordinate role. Those who find themselves often in this position establish habitual compensating behavioral patterns such as loud speech or emotional shields or a tendency towards victimhood. When we encounter someone who holds their head high and their shoulders back in proper posture we respond to their posture of authority. If we can consciously change our posture and nonverbal signals to project images of intelligence and authority, the instinctive reaction we experience are those of deference and respect. Of course that’s not all there is to it, but similarly to the pleasure response we feel even from imitation laughter, the image we project will change the responses we attract.

Anyway, just riffing on an idea I had while reading one of my school’s books.

Speaking of books: I recently finished “At Basilisk Station” and another book I’ve already forgotten. I’m swinging in my lazy/motivated cycle more towards the motivated side so hopefully we will see more updates as time moves on. We shall see ;-P

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First Contact

If you’re unsure how to begin your initial email, or are unclear about what to include, here is an example of a first contact that covers everything I need to know

Hi!

My name is Max and I’m a Seattle local and sparse hobbyist. I love what you’ve written and would like to spend some time with you. I like Science Fiction, too, but totally disagree with your analysis of that one book. I’d love to talk with you about it and maybe have some fun too ;-). I see you have time available next Sunday at one. I would love to meet you then. If that doesn’t work, maybe a Tuesday afternoon would.

My references are So-and-so; she will remember me by the funny hat I wore and because we talked about her dog’s upcoming haircut. Her email address is prettylady@gmail.com and you can find her website at www.sexysoandso.com. I also know such-and-such. We met two days before the Fourth of July and we talked about the intricacies of Chinese foreign policy in the context of a grassroots social movement. I also wore a funny hat, but a different one. Her email address is otherprettylady@gmail.com and you can find her most recent ad at postplace.weebly.otherprettylady.com

(Alternatively)

My full name is Maximus Maleleus and you can find my LinkedIn profile/facebook page/businass profile at the following link: www.romansoldiersareawesome.com and I would be happy to leave my driver’s license out for you to check when I arrive at your incall.

Looking forward to getting together soon

-Max

You are free to add as much as you wish, but deleting too much isn’t a great idea. This will streamline the process and make our communication much smoother.

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Update long overdue

Good day my dears and my most sincere apology fort he long hiatus. Between school, moving, and just generally staying busy, blog posting has fallen by the wayside, along with letter writing, scheduling with any sort of timeliness, and standing in the rain wondering what it all means. I have not abandoned my blog, I merely need to work on my time management.

Classes have been going well, though it seems that drivers around here forget that rain makes for slick roads and still drive as if they were slinkies hooked to the bumper of the preceding car. There are some intersections near my building that I want to do some stealth line painting to direct traffic so people don’t drive like self-entitled idiots (something I am occasionally guilty of myself). But this isn’t about traffic or weather, this is about updating my blog and sharing some more thoughts with you all.

Tonight is the Halloween party for the review board. I’m planning on being only moderately indecent, so don’t feel you’ve missed out too much if you can’t go. Perhaps there will be another valentines party and you can join us then. In any case, I’ll try to get a photo of my costume for members viewing pleasure 🙂

The move is official. I started signing the 69 pages of leasing paperwork yesterday and will be moving out of the old place this Wednesday and into the new place the following Wednesday. I do have a backup location in the interim so aside from my regular days off and moving days, I am still available to get together during my regular hours.

For those of you who have submitted email addresses to the mailing list: I apologize. You did it right, I have simply not yet established an easy and reliable method for composing and distributing information. I have some ideas, I simply have to get around to doing it. I will post about it when I eventually get it up and running. Thank you for your patience.

Posting at all was inspired by a mental rant I was running through on the bus this morning, but it’s been so long I hate to reintroduce myself with a blast of negativity so let me just say thank you each of you who meets with me with a sense of humor, opennes, lack of expectations, and willingness to form a healthy and mutually pleasing relationship. The overwhelming majority of my gentleman friends are exactly that: gentlemen. You are warm hearted and enthusiastic without being pushy or expectant. You are appreciative and caring without hanging doubts or guilt anywhere near us. You validate my need to help and to care for, whether it’s a touch you’ve been missing or long conversations about life and spirit or just a few hours where you don’t have to make any decisions, you make me feel good to make you feel good. I deeply appreciate that and I want to thank you.

I hope your Halloween is wonderful and I will try not to let such a long time elapse next time.

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Thoughts on Wishes

There is a saying: “If wishes were fishes there’d be no room in the ocean for water.” I like old adages like that. Simple, but layered with meaning. On the surface it decries wishing, intimating that it is a waste of time but when you think about it, it is also an encouragement to do instead of simply wish for. Instead of filling the ocean with too many fish, work for what you want.

 

That being said, unexpected gifts are always nice. I’ve noticed that people often prefer buying for others to having things bought for them. Perhaps my sample is skewed, or perhaps in this day of consumer madness, people already have what they want but still like to buy things and so enjoy buying stuff to give away. In the context of you and me, perhaps you’d like to buy something in order to see me wear it. (I’m a size six or small in most clothing items including shoes and panties. Bra size 32DD. You know, in case you were wondering). Maybe you like to read and have a book sitting on your shelf you’d like to share. Perhaps you’re a tech guru and want to show off some new gadget. You might wish to take me to dinner or give me a gift card so I can take one of my girlfriends. Perhaps you’re not sure what to get but have an impulse to give a little extra, to show that you had a little extra fun this time. I hope if you choose to give me something nice it is something we can share such as a bottle of sparkling wine, some fresh fancy cheese, or a cute little number I wear special when you’re around.

 

If you like directions and suggestions, here are some places I like to eat at:

Purple Cafe and Wine Bar

Ethan Stowell locations

Tom Douglass locations

Whole Foods (gift cards make grocery shopping much less painful)

I also occasionally review places I’ve been on my Trip Advisor Account

 

I like great, expensive food and so the places I like to eat are often on the higher end of the spectrum. I can’t say the same thing for my clothes. I prefer second hand stores because current fashions are not flattering to a woman who isn’t waifish. I have noticed that I can wade through racks and racks of high end clothing and find perhaps one item I like. In a second hand store or at a garage sale I fill my arms with clothes and they all become my new favorite. That being said, I do like to turn over my wardrobe on occasion and when I do I usually hit one or two of the following.

Victoria’s Secret

Buffalo Exchange

Target (I kid you not, their panties are amazing)

Ross (for shoes and dresses mostly)

Banana Republic

Butch Blum

 

And for miscellania: I can always use candles, unscented or otherwise, and I’ve been looking around for a good candelabra or taper candle holder. If you stumble across something interesting and elegant that holds tapers, even if it’s just one, I’d love to add it to my candle collection 🙂

Bed Bath and Beyond is always a good bet, be it pillows, fuzzy blankets, dishes, music, or kitchen supplies.

Sur La Table is my preferred place for kitchen gadgetry

Lover’s Lair or Babeland gift cards are ALWAYS welcome

I’ve recently delved into collecting attractive things to wear. The best ones are quite indulgent. I’ve been intrigued by but not yet able to justify buying from one or more of the following:

Morgaine Faye (Portland gothic jewelry maker who creates perfect wearables for my assistant, Rose)

Artas Usuwil. Not all of it, though, the brilliant and the dark, the simple and the elegant.

Oru, if she ever did bracelets. But I love the system and the work.

Freeland Spirits makes an absolutely to die for Gin but it might be hard to find because they’re small and in Portland.

And of course good old Amazon. You can get practically anything there. Amazon gift cards prepare me for my late night bouts of intoxicated purchasing. A great pastime, actually, I highly recommend it ;-P The only gift more all purpose than Amazon gift cards is straight cash and at that point it’s not as much a gift as a tip. Which I suppose is also a gift. But whatever, you know what I mean.

 

As always, these are suggestions. As with most people, I won’t say no to gifts but I don’t expect them. It is all about what might bring you pleasure. For some people it’s having someone spank them for an hour, for others it’s giving gifts.

 

As always, I appreciate your attention and care and I hope to see you soon

 

:-*

 

My Amazon Wishlist
A taste of what I like to wear -VS

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On Men and Women

I recently had an interesting incident. I received a reference request, responded with a qualified yes, and heard back from the provider later the same day. The young man had behaved inappropriately and had been put on their ‘Do Not See’ list.

When I saw the young man, he didn’t necessarily behave inappropriately, but I did not feel as though a real connection had been made. That sometimes happens due to language barriers, shyness, unfamiliarity, awkwardness, time restrictions, or incompatible expectations. In those cases it is understandable and when I don’t see them again I am not surprised. In this particular case I felt as though the lack of connection was because he saw me as no more than an object; a means to his end and as many ends as he could get.

I don’t often feel objectified in this line of work. Scoff all you want but even when doing naked yoga specifically for the purpose of providing visual stimulation I do not feel reduced to a pair of tits and lady bits. In the moment, that is what is more important, but overall I know that regardless of how perfectly my look fits your fantasy, if we can’t sit and chat intelligently you’re not coming back for an hour and a half of sitting awkwardly on the couch or avoiding eye contact while on the table. My hands are good, but they aren’t that good. In this particular case I felt as though it didn’t matter that it was me, it mattered that I had a pair of hands and could get in as much action as possible in the allotted time. I’m not averse to getting a quickie out of the way so we can have more leisure once the main event arrives, but feeling like my other skills and my personality meant nothing was… well, a little degrading in retrospect. I don’t often feel uncomfortable and when I do it sometimes takes me a while to tease out why. Such is the case here; I felt odd but I couldn’t tell why. Once I realized that it was because I felt taken advantage of and objectified, I started requiring social time with each new person before we moved to touching. I needed to feel like I wasn’t simply a body.

I don’t know how he behaved with the other provider. Perhaps there was a language barrier (this was a scheduler for a non-native massage provider) and she felt he was dissatisfied. Perhaps, as with me, she felt as though he didn’t care for her, only for her ability to give him action for the entire time he was there. I’m sure if he displayed the same attitude of entitlement with her as with me she probably picked up on it and felt uncomfortable. Again, I don’t know anything about what he did, said, didn’t do, or didn’t say. When I questioned the other ladies who had seen him they seemed perfectly happy and in a follow up email from the provider who referred him she said that they see each other all the time and he is just sometimes in a bad mood. I’m genuinely pleased that the two of them have a connection and that he has a young lady who enjoys the time they spend together. I don’t expect to see him again because I don’t know if I provide the experience he is looking for. I am perfectly fine with that. The whole episode, however, raises some interesting points.

First: communicating with references, not only before but after if a client seems odd or off. There was an instance recently where a handsome, charismatic man saw a few young ladies and then used those references to gain access to providers who were then abused, in some cases violently. I know of another anecdote in which a provider had to move locations to escape a too insistent client who then changed his name and email address, saw a few new ladies, and used those references to book with the provider he had been stalking. It is extremely important for us to keep each other safe. This is why I refuse to accept references from providers who don’t screen or who use meet and greets to screen. I don’t even trust my own instincts, I can’t afford to compromise my safety and that of providers I send referrals to by slacking. I would like to know that either one of his references knows his real name or that he has at least been vetted by a total of six other girls. If someone is willing to reveal their full name to me and verify it with a driver’s license or some other legit ID then I am willing to take the risk of seeing them even with no provider history. I find my self in compromising positions almost daily and am in no way willing to rick my safety. I have no protection but my own wits and screening helps bolster that.

Second: providers are people, too. This isn’t about the feeling of objectification, this is about how boundaries are so different between providers. Some providers work from home and require only a phone call to schedule. That works for them and awesome. I refer people to them all the time when they are unwilling or unable to provide references for me or verify their ID. I’m pleased that they have remained safe and successful over the years. Call me paranoid but in the moment, when I suddenly realize just how much stronger you are than me, I take comfort in knowing that you trusted me with your name and so I can trust you with my safety.
Boundaries also vary between providers as far as what is covered under the blanket terms PSE, GFE, and FBSM or FBST. There have been dozens of discussion on The Review Board and one thing they all can agree on is that no one really agrees. To get an idea of what a provider offers in her sessions, read her website first, then read reviews. Often the provider and the reviewer have at least consulted and given each other feedback. The advice/direction I give is: we all know what you did, the only time you need to mention sexy activity is when it is exceptional or absent. Mention things that are out of the ordinary and mention how you felt. If I don’t say on my website that I offer french/pm/gfe/russian/whatever then I would obviously prefer that people don’t expect it. I get extremely uncomfortable when people approach this with expectations and they often leave dissatisfied when those expectations aren’t met. There are dozens of providers in Seattle. Someone out there offers what you want. Again, if you don’t see it offered on her website and you want it, go to someone who does.

Third: Providers are people, too. This one is about objectification. So many of you gents truly are just that: gentlemen who simply wish to be pampered and touched, cared for and listened to, and perhaps get to spend some naked time with a pretty girl. So many, in fact, that when I see discussions on The Review Board on conduct, I think “everyone knows that” and move on. The truth is, not everyone knows that. Not everyone realizes when they’ve made someone uncomfortable and some even thrive on causing pain and discomfort. Fortunately it’s never happened to me but it does happens. While I’d rather never be uncomfortable ever at all, I do appreciate the times when I get to open someone’s eyes to behavior they were unaware of, much as I appreciate when people open mine to my own actions. Every provider is a human being with emotions, families, and their own motivations for what they do. Some do it for money, some for friendship or the semblance of love, some do it because they have few other options, and some do it strictly for the sex. Most providers are some combination of the above. That shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t change the time you spend together and it shouldn’t effect your appreciation of her as an individual. Perhaps there is a language barrier or she’s shy or the activities you engaged in didn’t meet your expectations. Doesn’t matter, she should always be treated with the respect due a human being. Unsure if you’re being respectful? Check in. Ask her how she feels in the afterglow during your pillow talk and let her know that her feedback is appreciated. I will always be honest and trust me, if I am willing to schedule with you again, it means I had a great time and I’m looking forward to meeting again.

I could go on forever on topics such as this. Respect, consent, honesty, and joy are some of my highest values. I hope you find yourself free to express yourself when you are with me. I’m looking forward to the next time we are able to share moments in the cozy comfort of my little studio. I’m waiting for you with patience and a smile.

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Loose Change

I was talking with a friend of mine last night who is a recent bride. She and I aren’t close so I was surprised when she began to confide in me: her father is having an affair and has been for nine months. Her parents had kept this information from her so as not to spoil the wedding, but revealed later that her mother had known three months into the affair and so had been living the last six months knowing her husband was actively unfaithful. This young newlywed also mentioned that her new husband’s parents were splitting up. I could tell she was upset. I had no idea what to tell her. My parents and grandparents on both sides have been together for 32 and 54 years (my grandparents married on the same day of the same year, seven states apart) and while I am aware of infidelity on both my mother and father’s part, it has resulted not in separation but in a tighter bond and stronger resolve. What my friend is seeing is a dissolution of both her model marriage and that of her husband. I can tell it has shaken her faith in her own marriage, though they have both resolved not to let their marriage suffer or weaken, despite watching their parents’ marriages dissolve before their eyes.

I tell this whole story because after telling me this she voiced an interesting opinion concerning fidelity: having sex with someone not your wife is one thing, cheating is another. Cheating involves lying or at least not discussing it beforehand. Having sex with someone not your spouse, if done safely and with at least the foreknowledge if not the explicit consent of your spouse, is not the same. I have felt this way for some time and hearing it from the female half of what I see as a very traditional couple (catholic wedding and all) was a welcome surprise. I find it fascinating that this opinion is becoming something I’m seeing more and more in traditional, vanilla married couples. I know swinging has been a thing since, what, the forties? Probably earlier, but it was an offshoot; something people thought of as sexual deviancy and offensive. Open relationships were part of the kink community and still are to a great degree. I imagine that the opinion I now share with my freshly married friend is common between couples who enjoy group activities or polyamorous/open interactions. What I see when I discover an opinion about fidelity that seems more liberal than the person who holds it is a key to the path of normalization and legalization. I like to think that at least the idea of sexual therapy and sexual surrogacy as a way to assist an ailing couple is on its way into the mainstream and that our more traditional values concerning marriage, sex, and how to heal a suffering sexual relationship are changing. Young men and women watching their parents’ traditional monogamous marriages falling apart and wishing to prevent that in their own might turn to more nontraditional methods to keep the sparks going.

That’s not to say I advocate running off and finding a fresh face every time you get bored or have a fight, nor am I saying that most or all couples should go outside their relationships for satisfaction. Infidelity, primarily the part of it that involves deception, has always seemed to me a symptom of something bigger in a relationship. Any couple that can’t discuss honestly their concerns is going to have a difficult time staying together. That being said, perhaps ‘The Session’ in which Helen Hunt plays a sexual surrogate for a paraplegic will become the next ‘Patch Adams’, changing the way people think about alternative approaches to illness or sexual dissatisfaction.

I wonder sometimes if some generations didn’t cripple themselves by marrying for love. Much as the doomed Romeo and Juliet, marrying for purely emotional reasons often leads to poor matches, lies, miscommunications, and ultimate tragedy. Some couples survive but many either do not or limp along, becoming less and less hospitable all the time. I find that the marriages I see as successful are those who maintain fondness and trust, though not necessarily passion and lust. I see two people working toward a goal who find each other’s company pleasant and who can trust each other to grow together. Sex outside of that relationship doesn’t seem as though it would diminish that kind of relationship. No amount of mind blowing sex can make up for years of quiet devotion and friendship though I’m sure it might seem so at the time. Of course I can’t say any of this from personal experience. I’ve never been in a relationship like that: ten years old, pleasant, but missing a spark. I do know people who are in marriages like that. People who wouldn’t dream of leaving their spouse but who seek sexual fulfillment elsewhere. To me that seems incredibly reasonable. Unfortunately the spouses, I imagine, feel differently. I hope that the conversation I had the other day with this fresh bride, concerned with the longevity not of the sex but of the marriage, is a sign of change.

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Childhood Dreams

Memories surface, popping into consciousness at the oddest moments.

I was talking with a good friend of mine, a provider who feels uniquely equipped for her work and can trace her desire to be a courtesan back even to childhood. I thought that was interesting but moved on as the conversation flowed. It wasn’t until later that a memory surfaced, clear as day.

It is a child’s drawing. Stick figures represent men and a woman. The scene is a bedroom, sparsely furnished, dominated by a four poster bed with elegant curtains and steps leading up to it because the mattress is so thick and well cushioned. The woman reclines on the pillows and a speech bubble contains a name; Stan or Will or some such. On the other side of the door is literally a line of men trailing away. If I had any concept of perspective they would be disappearing into the hallway and receding into oblivion, their only import that they have literally lined up to visit with this woman.

I drew this picture in middle school. I know the age because of the friend who was with me. She and I were only briefly friendly enough to draw together and the two of us were happily drawing extremely high volume prostitutes and admiring their elegance and the power they had to draw men to their door. They only had to lie there, sensual and desirable, and these stick figure representations of lust would come and lavish attention on them. They were glamorous. I wanted to be them.

The memory faded until some conversation jostled it to the surface. The amusing detail in the drawing is the thought bubble above the woman’s head. It contains a different name, as if she is under obligation to have sex with the men outside the door but she wishes for another. Amusing may not be the right word. Poignant, perhaps? Distressing? I don’t know why I chose to add that detail at age twelve. Perhaps I saw myself doing that someday and my conservative upbringing pressed it out of me, only for me to discover it later and use it to liberally season life later. I came to Seattle and at the first opportunity leapt feet first into stripping, then moved on to more one-on-one engagements, all the while flushed with pleasure.

I am exactly where twelve year old me thought I would like to end up. I didn’t know it until recently but this is exactly what I thought I would grow up to be. My provider friend said it this way about herself: “I though ‘I haven’t had sex yet but I bet when I do I’ll like it. I’d like to do that for a living.'” Which is far more deliberate than my fumbling in the darkness of ignorance until I found a place and a community. I have been fortunate in that I found a welcoming community of supportive friends, a safe space to practice, and a partner who supports me.

I find the whole anecdote amusing. When I told my college friends about my profession, most if not all were amused and supportive, full of questions, but respectful and absolutely not surprised. Not one of them thought it odd that I would go into this business, though some who hold to their religious beliefs find it ill conceived.

Now I sit here at a coffee shop, drinking chai, tip tapping away on my iPad with money in the bank and an eye toward the future. Despite my bachelor’s degree I find myself without debt and in fact I have been able to support myself and my practice as well as a modest but comfortable lifestyle. I think twelve year old me would be proud.

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Office Space

Don’t date coworkers. Isn’t that what they tell you? It’s bad for office morale when the guy in the cubicle next to you is getting some on the clock while the one to your right isn’t getting any at all. I suppose that’s just too damn bad then.

I first noticed him during a meeting that was going way too long. Some hot winded bigwigs were talking about efficiency and productivity, meanwhile taking us away from being productive and decreasing our efficiency. The irony seemed lost on them but what does one expect from corporate bs?

Anyway, he was sitting across and a few chairs down and looked as bored as I was until he caught my eye. He was cute in a normal person way. His features didn’t jump out except in the way he used them to start making funny faces at me. He rolled his eyes a little and winked. He mimed the speaker a little, just enough to make me chuckle inside and think he might be good company for lunch.

After the interminable meeting was over, I approached him to ask if he wanted to take an early lunch to make up for that waste of our time and he agreed. I kind of thought he might, but it still feels good to know I can walk up to a stranger and twenty minutes later have a friend. Because that’s what I was thinking at the time. He seemed funny and was fine enough to look at, but HR would have a fit if anything developed.

Over the next few weeks we started instant messaging each other at work and then texting when we weren’t at work. We had different schedules most of the time so little of our communication was face to face. Before long, though, we were fast friends and I was thrilled when we got the chance to work on a project together.

It was a little over a week into the job and suddenly work had become far more enjoyable. We shared the same schedule now and we both had stayed late almost every day. When we finally called it a day, we went out to drink and eat and talk. It was one of those nights over a couple of beers and a burger that a switch flipped. We were talking about relationships. He had a way of bragging without bragging that interested me. He was telling me about this girl he had been with recently who had a second orgasm while they were together. I had always had a rough time getting even one and the thought occurred to me: if he can give this little tart two (and good for her!) then I wonder if I can get one? With that thought I decided I was going to give him a try.

That night was good but the next day was great. I went home with him, drunk and interested. That first time is always a little awkward and the alcohol got in the way. The next day, hungover but extremely pleased with myself, I could barely contain the sexual energy that bridged the office space between us. Though we were both painfully aware that we were breaking the rules and tried to keep our contact to a minimum, just knowing that he was in the same room had me distracted all day. Our computer messaging was dirty, so dirty, and once just before lunch I had to retreat to the bathroom to do a little de-stressing. My panties were damp and strong with the scent of desire. I hoped the next occupant wouldn’t recognize me or the smell of sex but I couldn’t focus on my work without taking some of the sex drive out of me so I had to take the risk.

Every time he came to my desk to answer a question or look over my shoulder at the project we were trying to work on I could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the air between us. I could hardly think of anything except the two thin layers of clothing separating my skin from his. Very little work got done that day and by the time our coworkers were saying goodbye the heat generated by our friction made me weak. We stayed late to work, as we often did, but as soon as the last person left the office it was all I could do to unbutton his shirt instead of tearing it off.

I remember every detail. He slakes his thirst for my kisses with passion and care. Lips teasing each other, pulling, feeling; hands tasting the curves and planes of our bodies. I can feel the edge of my desk pressing into the back of my ass as he presses his hips against me. We grind together. The feel of his cock, hard and insistent sends a surge of warmth from my chest to my groin. My arousal is so strong and fast it almost hurts. I fumble with his belt until my hands find a break in the defenses and reach their prize. I would kiss it, lick it, pull it into my mouth until I can’t even breathe but my tongue is already busy with his and so I settle for stroking his cock, teasing the tip, using the precum slipping out to make my hands as wet as my pussy.

His hands slide up my skirt, one on either side of my hips to raise it above my ass. I may as well not even be wearing panties for all the good they’ve done to contain the flood. Later I will have to reprint those papers but the tips of his fingers drive the thought from my mind. Our breath and our voices mingle in uncontrollable gutterals. Our hearts pound as adrenalin races through us and between us forming the string between the cans; our bodies communicating through the sliver of space between us. I desire you. I need you. Please.

The moment of first penetration is always the greatest. His head is spongy but firm. It gives just enough to prolong the moment but remains rigid as I feel him slowly, almost painfully slide inside me. I lean back to lie on my desk, hug my knees to my chest, and close my eyes to savor the sensation. Every slow thrust builds a wave of ever increasing pleasure starting with him and flowing to the tips of my fingers and toes. Here, now…. this feels so right. Mind and body synch and flow. I can hear him closing in on his climax. I can feel him leaning over me, hands on me, everything all over me. My body finds its center without me. I’m reaching the cliff. I can see it. I can feel the vertigo as I look over the edge. I fall, no, I leap off the edge. A primal cry tears itself from my throat to mingle with his as we tumble through the air, two eagles in a courtship dance cartwheeling towards certain death.

The aftermath is funny and messy; a combination of shame left over from old social indoctrination and fatalism that something so wonderful and so necessary for the continuation of life is so slippery and goopy and full of endorphins and funny noises. The afterglow is a bond that every time reinforces our friendship.

I know I’m not supposed to date coworkers, but I don’t give a shit. This one is different.

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Connections

I have a tendency towards messiness. I keep most of it contained, but my kitchen had finally gotten far enough out of hand to warrant a quick tidy and some dish washing. As I bustled around my miniature kitchen area, I happened upon a shot glass. Those of you who have met me know I am quite short. At five two, I can barely see onto the second shelf in my kitchen, much less the next two. It was as I felt around, checking for lost items that I found this novelty glass. It’s the sort of thing you would find in an airport in Chicago. It tilts to one side as if a strong breakage had happened by during its creation and the slogan reads ‘Chicago blew me away!’ I don’t recognize it. I’ve never been to Chicago though my aunt used to live there and I don’t remember ever receiving this as a gift. I can’t imagine it belonging to me, so I must assume it was left by the previous owner.

That got me thinking about the connections we have to the passers by in our lives. Whoever lived here before me I will never know. It was probably a single person since they restrict these studios to one tenant. I like to imagine she was like me: a reader, a bit of a homebody, interested in traveling and perhaps better traveled than myself, affectionate, and hopefully happy. Maybe she has family in Chicago and she left Seattle to reunite with them. Maybe she fell in love and moved to be by his side. Maybe she, too, rented this apartment specifically to entertain her gentleman callers. My conjectures mean nothing in the scheme of things, but dwelling on this gossamer connection reminds me that we are also connected to dozens of other people each day. The driver who cut me off also has a life and a family, a job and a home. The woman standing in the aisle at the grocery store is considering how best to feed her children and conserve her finances at the same time. The cashier at the drug store likely has no idea who I am but still flashes me a big smile and makes sure I had a good experience. All these people change my life in tiny ways, a little at a time. That driver has his counterpoint in the conscientious motorist waving thank you and both will change how I feel about myself, my city, and eventually the people that matter to me.

Caring for people who I am invested in is easy. My partner earns my trust and love very day. My girlfriends show me how much they care and invite my emotional investment regularly. My gentleman callers invest trust and time in my feelings of security physically, socially, and financially. Investing in these bright flames is easy and pleasant for me. It is the momentary interactions between me and people I have no reason to invest in that I consider now.

I often find myself negatively effected by those small brushes of humanity. They are in the way of me completing a task or returning home and that irritates me. Because of this other spark of life, mine is inconvenienced. It is hard to not only remember that these sparks are much like myself but to keep that in the forefront of my mind as I live day to day. The tiny connections we make every day are moments of opportunity to empathize or to resent and we can blame no one but ourselves for which we choose.

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Gulp, by Mary Roach

Once again Mrs. Roach has a hit. Adventures on the alimentary canal indeed; traveling with Mary from nose to stomach to colon and into the darkness of history is an absolute joy! Never would you imagine finding pleasure and fascination in the coprophagic habits of rats and rabbits. Who knew that it’s apparently perfectly survivable to have a hole from your stomach to the outside world, much less that it is regularly done on purpose? For science, of course.

There is no real plot to our little journey from food to fecal matter aside from the logical progression from top to bottom. Reading a book by Mary Roach is like being stuck on an airplane next to an odd stranger who, while others slumber and the world slips past below, gradually ignites a fascination for something you wouldn’t normally even think about. It is the kind of interaction that, after you debark you exchange phone numbers and try to tell your friends about this awesome thing you learned. If you’re anything like me, however, you fail to convey exactly why it’s important that rats eat their own feces and humans think their own farts stink. Not exactly topics for polite conversation, but the voice from the page is so vivid and funny as it narrates her interactions with smell specialists and doctors who perform poop transfusions that her enthusiasm is contagious. We want you to catch it. She and I find the weird things so fascinating that we want to impress its awesomeness upon everyone we meet.

I can’t say much more about the book. Her voice is passionate, her facts are well researched, her asides are hilarious and engaging, it’s an easy read and I would say the subject matter is exceptionally appropriate for teen boys and young people of both sexes. I highly encourage everyone I meet to pick up a copy of any of her books, off or no other reason than to remind yourself of the bliss and joy of curiosity and the satisfaction thereof. It is glorious.