What's new in the land of OZ and padded walls? Started working on a custom LP guitar build. Though I am having a bit of a challenge sorting out how to not screw up the acrylic glaze part. Hopefully with some careful thought and creative ingenuity it will go alright, given I haven't ever played with acrylic resin before. Should be fun, and luckily I won't glue my feet to the floor in the process. Writing wise I've taken a break from my main WIP at 23k, and it's complicated 8th chapter reworking to make it work better in the story, and not be a repeat of basically the chapter before. So off to the land of naughty shorts, longest spanning a whopping 15K, and the shortest just a hair over 2.7k. The rest are still in progress, as I explore new themes and ideas on that front, really stretching my ability to come up with some interesting dirty activities along with actual story bits to them. Also have a beginning to a Gothic inspired Sci-fi piece with gloomier tone, about a 3k chapter so far. Though there are lazy days of just writing little nonsense stories as practice and improv techniques to keep writing fresh on my mind and explore smaller ideas to see if I can depict things in a reasonable and engaging fashion. Also group has been helpful in making me more aware of my own issue of overwriting, and catching it when I can. That kinda sums things up at the present. Thanks for stopping by, and Happy Writing.
Been having a bunch of mixed feelings about life lately. Adjusting to my new prescription lenses ( now with no scratches to better see how craptastic things are.) Neg: I haven't gotten too much writing done. Been a bit rough the past few months, and I never look forward to Nov or Dec, still find it all quite exhaustive and depressing. Not liking the Coof, and it isolating crap. Also getting sick and tired of seeing masks everywhere, it's not amusing anymore. Makes me want to burn mine just so I can be different again. Missing my doggo that past this month last year. The lack of physical contact, is maddening. IDK, in some ways things have just taken a turn for the worse in general. Pos: I still get to go to writing group every week, minus holidays and vacations that don't permit it. Tuesday I get my guitar, and get to relearn how to do that whole thing again. (Been a few years since I played.) Starting to get back into drawing a bit, even if I am not that good at it. Slowly coming back around to my more niche interests, even though I feel isolated in it. At least I don't have to sort out how to get rid of all that stuff, cause I wouldn't know where to start. Suppose it is best to stick to what you enjoy, even when you lack the support base, and some make you want to despise it. Yep that covers that lot of stuff, I feel better getting that off my chest. Have a good one, and don't let anyone make you feel like you can't enjoy something because they don't get it.
My little brother is one of my biggest heroes. Made it into the 82nd airborne, and took RPG7 fire shrapnel like a a champ to the head. Though that isn't what makes him my hero. It was his sheer determination and will to follow after his heart and dreams. And I'll never forget his words any less than his actions. I will remember his words till the day I die. But I will never forget his words nor his will of determination under fire. A real hero uplifts you. I will never lose respect or admiration for a man capable of such sacrifice and wisdom. I miss you little brother, and I love you so much.
To be fair, I don't think I have what it takes to win a Brazzy (Book Razzy). Joking aside, I have started a side WIP to break up the monotony of working on a single piece all the time. Right now I have 3760 words into it, and it seems fast paced with a bit more of a darker tone that I started with, with my first novel. Though there is no language, but enough violence so far. I am having anxiety about sharing it since it was inspired by some Dune and WH40K lore, and takes on a more Gothic Sci-fi-ish tone, giving it an...interesting flavor to say the least. I have discussed a bit of it privately with someone, but I am not sure how I feel about sharing it more publicly. since it does seem to have a level of campy/cheesieness to it. (Perhaps I will never be able to nix that bit from more actiony based stories, IDK) Also I think it will be less positively received due the MC not being human, but a secondary is... Granted overall I know my writing when I try and apply myself in any measurable fashion is typically subject to the reader's tastes So do I share the beginning chunk, or not? (IDK why I've become so shy about this now, but I might be going through something. Or It might be due to lacking confidence in other things I enjoy, and that fall in confidence is spilling over into other aspects of my life.) Thanks for stopping by, and have a good one.
I have come to the conclusion working on this current WIP, that I may have good ideas, but not so good a writing ability. To be fair I started this new adventure to challenge myself and get away from all the profanity and extreme violence. So far I think I have stayed fairly well away from those things, with some sparse bits for the antogonistic monster thing that offers the Horror element for my story, but it doesn't speak (nor is it capable, at least not with it's mouth and it doesn't have telepathy either). Maybe I am just being harder on myself due to navigating new territory and a slower mellower tone, with a ton of dialogue to move things forward. IDK. Struggling with the emotional aspects of one MC that is working on her first F/F relationship, and trying to not make it all a pronoun CF, but it ain't easy. Oh well, that is all I have for now based on what I have heard from the ladies and group. Thus I will leave you with a short intro to Chapter 9 which happens to be my favorite part of the 21K I have so far. Thanks for stopping by. Quilani stood outside the house that she swore was modeled after a dolls home. Double checking the address beside the right top of the door frame, and what she had written down. She surly stood out like a sore thumb in black leather pants that laced up the sides, and longsleeve white belly shirt. Contrasting the pristine suburban aesthetic she thought was only in fiction. She took a deep breath and feigned not to notice how awkward it was. She rang the doorbell, and the cheerful acute melody was the tipping point that she cringed. “Hello Quilani, so glad you could make it.” Lintalia greeted her with her bubbly personality. “Hey.” Quilani beamed back. “Is your neighbor looking at me through the blinds?” She spoke through her gritted smile. “Uh, huh.” Her head bobbed, and she waved around Quilani. She restrained herself from face palming, or stopping the flailing arm. “Please, come inside.” Quilani gladly entered the doll house, shaking off the creepy sensation that her fellow classmate confirmed.
Every once in a while something comes along and bugs me in that weird way, and I just need to let the pressure of it out before I go bonkers. Anywho... We'll start with this: Fin-Dom. No it isn't a Dom who dresses up like shark before heating things up in the bedroom or dungeon. (But hey, if that's your thing, more power to ya, not here to judge.) It actually stands for Financial Domination, otherwise known as the art of being lazier than a 1- 900 number hotline worker, to get money and prezzies. While yes this is a legitimate kink for some people, it doesn't require a lot of effort really. Where it falls apart and bothers me, is that all it is really about at the core is: Looking sexy, and demeaning their subs, in exchange for fat stacks of Dolands and surprise packages from wishlists. In other words a non-service with high reward to lack of talent or effort. (So if that lights your candle, good for you.) However, is it really worth it to be sexually aroused by being a poor manager of your funds for pretty much nothing in return? Sure if you have the extra Dolands, and can cover your bills and such, fine. But still, have you thought about it? You wouldn't go to a restaurant and pay for a description of your meal, and get no actual food, would you? Suppose I, being in a service based industry believe that a tangible service is rewarded for being rendered. Carpet doesn't exactly un-wrinkle just because it annoys you, and you curse at it under your breath every time you nearly trip over it. Yeah finding a professional Dom that fits your budget can be a pain, but at least you get something real in the exchange of money for the service. Just saying there is a huge difference from having someone talk sweet nothings in your ear with no intention of following through, and actually having your needs fulfilled (whatever they may be). To conclude on a lighter note: If my thing was getting my junk shaved with a cheese grater, you can bet your ass I expect to get my junk shaved with a cheese grater when I drop a mini-fortune. (It isn't my thing, just thought that it was a funny concept.) Thank you and I hope you enjoyed this odd rant, and possibly a laugh or two as well.
Well, its been something for a few weeks. Battling with my dear old friend depression has certainly been rough game of chess. Kinda annoyed that my pedal won't be getting in till at least by next Wednesday. But that will add a whole new range over the single now, so that will be nice and fun, and my left foot won't be lonely. Though I have to figure out something so I can play dropped hats and double bass. Hmm. Need to order a new camera, cause the one I wanted seems to always be sold out. Grrr! Haven't worked on my WIP in IDK how long, which isn't helping my sitch. But on the other side I have about 1200+ words between two dirty stories, that make me realize how alone in my niche I am, which is kinda a 50/50 split between fun and mental/emotional torture. Been thinking about what to draw, but haven't been hit with anything yet to get some practice in, even though I look longingly at my sketch book. IDK if I can cook up something for the Flash-Fic contest before it closes. Not sure how to cram something that works into a measly 500 words, but... Hoping to land a small 3 room job next week, so I have something to do for at least a few hours outside the house and have a bit of extra scratch. Looking forward to group on Thursday, got really dismal knowing it was cancelled this week with no one to talk to. Also the high winds, cold, and wetness hasn't made it any easier. Maybe I should look for a DAW that has extra instruments built into it, so all I have to do is the drumming bits, which are a pain in the ass to do with a keyboard anyway. Still have a rev to do, and then move onto that odd looking Christian Erotica. Though Rendezvous With Rama is good, it is kinda slow where I am, since they first entered the ship. Kinda hoped it would be more exciting than darkness, ladders, and stairs, makes it sound less alien and more symmetrical MC Escher. Hopefully it picks up soon. Probably sort some of that out later, and keep hiding away from this awful thing/place I am stuck in. (Sigh)
It isn't easy to want to abandon revving a terrible book, but I think I will be better off mentally for doing so. I will however proceed forward with the terrible Empress Theresa review when I get done reading it. Reads like technical manual for the 'Extreme Mary Sue', that is also absurd and absurdly boring all at the same time. Which is really strange. On the other hand, Weak For Him by the 'author' Lyra Parish, will be suspended forth with. It had started to cause me instability on the mental level. Not to mention that, while I have written some pretty perverse and depraved things, but that book made me uncomfortable with how it is portrayed. Well done on that end, being unintentionally the most grossly and creepy written piece of Rom-Rotica that is not worth finishing. Everything about it is so far removed from any sense of logic and reason, along with social and sexual conventions that it is kinda a horror conceptually in the way things play out in a random series of events. I am not going to progress further in slowly degrading my mind on such a horrid novel, and will not be condoning that the writer should continue producing such material (or anything at all). I have left a rev on Goodreads, and that will be the end of such insane trash gaining any attention from me. However I will pass the torch, since I now know that I am not the worst writer ever. Much to the delight of some enjoying me torment myself with such shit, I will not apologize for my discontinuation of doing so. Thanks for stopping by, and I'll catch you in the next one.
While the audio visual sync is off, it is fresh out of the oven, and for your viewing pleasure as I review the terrible romance novel I have been reading. Enjoy my Suffering.
Much like the time Mr. Commandante Lemming and I did a read through of Bet me, I have found a new 'book' of sorts to read and report on, on my own. I have jotted notes through to chapter five, and have read to chapter 11, in the atrocity that is Weak For Him (Book 1) By Lyra Parish (pen name). So will do a full series of intense reporting of just how bad it all is, and trust me, I owe Jennifer Cruzie an apology for Bet Me, it was a million times a better story than this one that is absolutely an abortion in the writing. Consistency? Well let's just say the only character I like is Mr. Gropey's driver Charlie. Which is sad since he is a side character that doesn't really do much of anything, besides his job as a decent guy in his late 50's early 60's, and drives a limo. Tomorrow I will have the first video (well audio with some pictures), uploaded so all who dare to hear the pain and anguish as this guy nose dives into a hell that even the devil would blush at. So look forward to that, and thanks for stopping by.
For those that have been with me on this epic for a silly box, and its arrival today. I did promise to share what I had ordered. So I will share it here to not clog up thread with pics that are of the huge nature. Well being into what I am into, I invested in surgical gloves. I took a gamble on what size would be correct between a 6 and a 6.5 (I have small hands, but not small enough for a 5.). So I got them in a 6.5 and that seems to be the right size. My camera seems to have an issue capturing the color correctly, as they are supposed to be teal, but the box claims they are green. Anywho they are closer to teal, but my silly camera makes them look mint. (They are surprisingly easy put on, and feel quite comfy). View attachment 23018 View attachment 23019 View attachment 23020
Not that I feel that about here, so put that thought aside. (I love you guys) In some ways I do miss Fet, but in others I don't. It is hard to fit into a community where you are basically Schrodinger's cat, in terms of belonging and not. Kinda like joining the wild church of spank happy rubber nuns, leaving due a lapse in faith and falling into that odd sense of loneliness, and yet resisting the temptation to go back to the church of spank happy rubber nuns due to negative feedback loops. Like it is nice to have the feelings of belonging and being accepted, but ultimately you know it isn't good for you despite the things that draw you in. (I think that makes sense...) So I have concluded to resist the pull of such gravitation, cause it was the reason I left in the first place. Surface level it all seems like a place where all the weirdos into that stuff can go, and on deeper examination is really just a fancy veneer with little to nothing to offer in the long run. And the way I found myself caught in the the more localized part of the community thrust me into they position of opposing parts, due to the lack of diversity in conceptual theory beyond a simplified mindset, and willful ignorance to stay in that default position, all while trying harder than hell to appear as not being held up in that position. Of course it is hard to get along in any meaningful fashion when everybody hordes hammers, and acts like they are they only instrument of any purpose. Sadly no matter how fancy a hammer is, it will always be a hammer no matter how you spin it. As for the macro side, well it is a cesspool with no real discussion to be had. Wading in only exacerbates this fact. There is very little to be had when it is a mess of drama. Or simply being about who is the most attractive, or who has the best toys. And the much more simplistic, it has largely become a fad and fashion sense, with some latching on to something for their own personal gain at the expense of the idiots that will blindly keep them afloat by financial and means of wishlist gifting. So massive cesspool like I said. Not the ideal environment for having real conversations, or for support. You know, the things that make a community, a community. While these conflicting thoughts will probably bother me off and on, I think I made the right decision in leaving. So be critical of a community despite its offerings, cause if it doesn't feel quite right, it probably isn't. Okie dokie, now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
Haven't done one of these things for a bit, so I thought I would make one. I am happy. I am loved by a wonderful lady, that is my world. There is no other, nor will there ever be. Also cooking some ideas for stories in my head, and kinda slogging along on my WIP. Though I have been tasked with Beta reading Lady S's book for group this Thursday. Mind you not the entire thing, but I still need to read a good chunk of it before then. Just been kinda in a keyboard pounding slump, due to speed bumps, and not knowing what to write on either of the fronts before me. Pantsing is a slow business sometimes. Hopefully I will get a spark to pound out something in the near future, cause I miss fabricating a good yarn. That are all, thanks for stopping by, and have a good one.
(Back by demand for more of this absurdity). Enjoy Chapter 10-8 We were back in the parking lot on a lower level, walking past a wide selection of exotic and domestic sports cars. “What do you think of the Audi TT 2019,” He looks at me, his hand on my waist. “Bit too on the nose, don’t you think?” “Yes, it is rather cliche after that horrid book series, isn’t it?” We walk deeper into the rows of cars. I stop next to a sleek silver Aston Martin. I run my fingers suggestively across the hood, of the powerful machine. “Ah, I see that you have a taste for the Vantage,” He chuckles,” Though if it pleases you, I will oblige.” Hell yes! This is the car the ‘Man ‘himself would drive. “Ooh, you sure know what I’m thinking, Mr. Bond,” I make my way to the passenger side of the car. “Oh, so you’re driving? Interesting. Do you drive stick,” He inquires as I step up to the right side of the sexy sleek machine. “No sir, I sure don’t,” I concede as he opens the opposite door, and I bashfully trot around the trunk of the car. “Quite alright, I know you Americans drive on the left of the vehicle,” He gently closes the door as I take the true passenger side of the car. My sweat moistened thighs began to stick to the leather of the seat. He takes the driver seat. This is all a little weird, but I think I could get used to it. “What about my car on the upper level? I don’t want to pay a fortune in parking fees,” he fires up the fine tuned engine as we sit in the space. He takes out his phone and prods it with his finger a few minutes. “What kind of car would like?” Oh no he didn’t! I was all but soaked through in my panties, as I thought about it a few minutes. “A Lotus Evora with a spoiler,” I imagine the car. “Ah going British eh,” He grins up at me,”Color and interior?” “Black cherry red with a white stripe, and white Italian leather,” I can almost feel the soft well crafted leather on my backside.. “Ok, just let me finish up the last minor details and...”, he prods the phone a few more seconds, and I can’t believe it,” Done..” He taps the screen a final time, I rub his forearm on the shifter knob. “So you just bought me a car?” “Better. I sold your old one as well, and I will give you the cash once it is finalized.” “But how do you-”, his pale digit presses against my lips. “Trust me I know you drive a Camry. There isn’t much that goes on around my building that I don’t know.” This Mr. Bond has me sold. I kiss him on the cheek, leaving behind a deep crimson brand of my lips. “What was that for,” He looked at me shifting the car into gear. “You are going to be trouble for me, Mr. Bond,” I gaze at him taking a long slow breath. “Careful there fair lady, I am trouble,” He put on a pair of bomber shades and took off from the parking space like a rocket,” Trouble is my middle name.” Edward Trouble Bond, ETB, sure lacked a bit when I put more thought than needed into it, so I went with the preferable option. “I am most eager to meet this...Trouble...you speak of,” My voice low and dusky. “Let me show you the way,” He drove maniacally on the road, like an outlaw on the run from the authorities. Oh my God, he is sooooooo spicy! I was a little sad when we exited off the 202. It was a smooth and exhilarating ride, my heart thumped hard, almost as fast as the pistons firing. Though it was nice to give my revved up heart a little time to slow down, as we cruised through Scottsdale. While I am not much of a fan of the city, it was pretty at sunset. Edward drove us up into the nice neighborhood up in the hills to the west. Then we passed a saguaro that grew in such a way, that it looked like it was flipping the bird. I giggled as the illusion of where we were was broken by the silly looking cactus. “What,” Edward looked at me with broad smile. “Nothing, it’s stupid,” my giggle became a chuckle. “Whatever it was-,” He looked in the rear view mirror and joined in the comical moment,”Silly things the way they grow. Look like alien trees or something.” “Yeah they do look pretty weird.” 10 minutes later Edward smoothly parked the Aston Martin in the driveway of a very extravagant, castle-esque mansion that sat at the top of a rather tall hill. I was awestruck, glued to the window as the car came to a halt in front of the monstrous suburban dwelling and it’s columns adorning the front. It took me a few moments to realize the gravity of what I was getting myself involved in. “Miss Vasquez,” His voice a distant echo in my ears, and I barely registered the warmth of his hand as he helped me from the car, shutting the door with a soft clack. “Oh wow,” All I could manage, as he led me to the ornate wooden and metal decorative front door. “Welcome to my home away from home,” He used his arm to guide me into the the lavish dwelling. My eyes darted about my surroundings, covering every square inch that I traveled within. The only thing I heard above my heart, was the sharpness of my heels as they clacked on the polished marble floor. Chapter √9 Edward left me in his living room after getting Danni’s email from me. I was too nervous to go snooping about his house, so I relaxed with the glass of wine he’d poured for me. The chair with which I sat was extremely comfortable, and only enhanced the relaxation factor of the wine. However, the decorating was most peculiar to me as I sipped my wine in the fading sunlight. Not that I am an expert on interior decoration, outside of tacking up a few posters and a little abstract art prints. But this place was almost in how at odds it seemed to be mashed together. Almost as if a classy lady and a big leather biker got into a deco-war, and this was the aftermath. None of it at all made a lick of sense, or rhyme or reason. I mean I know I am a bit out there, but Edward is a whole new brand of weird. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a little more conventional setting, enjoying the drink and comfyness beneath me. Ah, this is too nice, what’s the catch for something so simple, yet so distant. The front door latch broke my daydreams, and I froze holding the stem of the glass in a death grip. I shrank into the chair, and held my breath unsure of what was going on. The door clicked shut, and the deadbolt was set. “Where’s my little muffin man,” boomed throughout the house, in a deep low graveled voice. I wanted to giggle at hearing that come out of a man, but I was still petrified in place. Though I started to put the decorating dilemma together with this new added piece of the puzzle. “Oh hey, cuddle bear,” Edward answered the other man affectionately. Wow! And they said college was wild, but um...yeah... “So, how was your day pookie?” “Oh, well this afternoon was exciting. I met the most intriguing young lady. In fact she will be joining us for dinner. I just got done doing one of my famous interview videos for a journalist who couldn’t do it in person, because she is bed ridden with the flu.” “The poor thing.” “Yes. I hired someone last minute to go and look after her. All alone, and suffering in bed.” “That is one of the many reasons I love you, you’re such a sweetheart, always taking care of people.” “Oh, you ha ha.” “I feel rude not meeting our guest.” “Right. I left her in the living room for a few minutes with a glass of Merlot.” The two men announced by their footsteps growing in the distance. I had eased up a bit, after finding out that new person was not a killer or something. Sure would have been awkward to have been on the phone with the fuzz, trying to explain that I was alone in some rich guy’s pad, and somebody just picked the door and came in like he owned the place. I only made it as far as putting my hand over my heart, as it beat uncontrollably. The Two men entered the room, turning a light on as they did. I got my first glimpse of ‘Cuddle Bear’. He was dressed smartly in a button down shirt and slacks. His hair cut short, and he sported a thick beard. His rolled up sleeves revealed service tattoos, but as to what branch he was in I couldn’t say. “Good evening, young lady,” He smiled down at me, and held out his enormous hand. “Hi,” I put my hand in his. “Your trembling, what has you spooked?” “I think it was you,” I managed to find my tongue again. “Ha, ha, I get that a lot. Eddie was the same when we met, ain’t that right?” “Yes, but I found out just how wonderful and kind you really are, Ron,” Edward patted the large man on the shoulder. “Maria,” I timidly smile looking between the men. “So tell me Maria, are you here of your own volition, or did Eddie kidnap you,” Ron chuckled and Edward doubled over in a fit of laughter. “My own volition, I think,” I snigger awkwardly and sip my wine. “I’m yanking your chain, Maria,” He patted me on the knee,” Well come on muffin, we gotta whip up something tasty for the little lady..” What just happened? Dinner, ok I’ll follow the rabbit hole. I left the chair and followed them to the kitchen as they bantered leading the way. Either I have had too much wine or not enough? Well, at any rate things just keep getting more and more interesting. I perched myself on one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the large island from the busy men milling about the area. “Freshen that for you,” Ron held the bottle of wine. “Please,” my eyes explored the heavy racking where their pots and pans hung sparkling in the track lighting. “So Maria, what brings you to our neck of the wood,” Ron began chopping up vegetables for a salad on large wooden cutting board. “I was doing a favor for my friend who caught the flu.” “No kidding, Eddie mentioned that a student journalist couldn’t make it out.” “I am sure she will be more than surprised by his video to her, and for the person he hired to take care of her,” My phone alerted me of a text,” Speak of the devil...” Hey, so I got this amazing email from Mr.Bond and he seems so...
(PS, I still blame you all for this.). (PPS I am sorry it is readable). 49 3/7 Smudges Of Spicy : Chp. 1 By Icy Caliente superwhew (Enjoy ) I sat on the edge of my roomies bed, holding up two pair of pumps as she blew her nose in a tissue. “So the white...or the black?” “Go with the black,” Danni was nasally congested,” Why are you making such a fuss about doing this interview with Mr. Bond for me?” “Oh no reason,” I exchanged the shoes for dresses,” Blue and sophisticated, or...red and tempting? “Maria, why are you asking me all these questions?” “You know,” I turn my eyes to the right with a grin,” I could be the next Anastasia Steel.” “Ugh,” Danni rolled her eyes,” Mr. Bond isn’t that attractive for a rich guy.” “Yeah, well I’ve never seen him. He might be... caliente,” I wriggle my brows at her. “Well you know what they say,” She hands over a fancy upper crusty magazine to me. “Girl you crazy,” my eyes linger up and down on the page,” Sure the unibrow is a bit much, but I can fix that.” “Sure if you’re into rich, hairless, muscular men, with exotic accents.” “Whaaaa?” “Oh yeah, didn’t I mention he is from London.” “Shut up, that is so spicy,” my thong dampens considerably, and I slip into unreality. I can feel my tongue running up those rock hard abs, mmm, yummy! “Uh...Maria...you’re kinda licking the page...” “Oh, sorry,” I hand over the soggy magazine back,” I was wondering why his abs tasted like a photograph.” “You sure you can handle this, Maria,” She tosses the slobbered on magazine to the bed with a look of disgust. Yeah, bestie, I won’t let you down,” I salute her,” So blue or red?” “The blue.” “Ooooh, I agree. A bit of sophistication, that makes my curves look good. Panties or no panties.” “Really,” Danni facepalms,” I cannot believe you just asked me that.” “Ok, ok, I figure that one out later,” I set the dress aside,” So how did you get so lucky to land this interview with the smoldering...Mr. Edward Bond?” “I happen to impress him with my paper on freelance reporting. Though he was nice enough to meet with you, though it took quite a bit of convincing, and he really wants me to do well with my vocation. So please, please, please, use the questions I wrote down for you to use when you meet him.” “Hey chica, I will be chill, and professional.” “Lord I hope so.” “Oh c’mon,” I pout,” I will be on my best behavior. I swear.” “You had better be. Cause this is huge for my future as a journalist.” “I know, Danni,” I hug her, and fantasized about all the freaking things to do and be done to me by the handsome Mr.Bond. It didn’t help that I was wet as hell just thinking about all of those things. “Ooh, Edward, can I call you Edd-” “Whoa! Yeah, um, you might want to take this,” She hands me the magazine,” and get it out of your system.” “Oh, roomie, I don’t need that anymore,” I licked my lips and lay down beside her,” I will only be satisfied when and if I land such a spicy guy.” I cruised on the freeway from UofA in Tuscon to Phoenix, and I listened to this ‘50 Shades” audio book that my roomie loved so much. And if I wasn’t impressed with story telling, characters, or well any of it. I kinda sorta pitched the CD in the backseat, and let the lower fans from the air-conditioning give me an icy thrill, as I drove in the blistering heat of the desert. My mind torn between why my roomie thought that that Grey Guy was so fucking cool, when he sounded like someone my cous would set straight in a hurry. I fell back into thinking about my Mr. Edward Bond, so mysterious and sexy with that accent of his. Though when I think about him, he has normal eyebrows, and not that furry worm running across his brow. Oh, mi Edward, vengo a ti mi amor. Mind you at 75 miles an hour, but I am coming. I wonder how many kilometers an hour that is, since he is used to metric and all that kinda stuff. I pulled my Toyota Camry up to the large glass building, and pulled up into the semi-circle looking for a place to part. I rolled down the window when I saw a guard walking the grounds. “Hey man, where do I park around here?” “Go back out onto the main road there,” He leans into the passenger side door,” Then you head right for a little ways, and the parking structure in on the right. Guest parking is level 5.” “Thanks,” I flash a smile, I hate paid parking. I sucked it up, and reminded myself to charge Danni later for back pay on parking, as I drove up the dry musty structure too find a parking space. It took a good while to find a spot, but it was between to great big SUVs. I really hate trying to back out of such tight spaces. I locked the car up, and with my purse comfortably around my shoulder, resting on my killer right hip. I crossed the desolate, inferno of a parking lot to the main building. “Whoo, 123 hot enough for you guys,” I wiped my soaked brow at the high desk in the climate controlled building. “Quite,” The no nonsense woman on the other side looked me over,” Do you have an appointment with someone today.” “Yeah,” I catch my breath, and put away the moist hanky soaked with sweat,” I am her to meet Mr. Bond. 2:45 I believe.” She looks at something on her side of the counter that I cannot, and back at me with a steely gaze. “Ah, Miss Vasquez, you are a bit early. You are welcome to take the lift up and wait, if you prefer.” “I think I shall,” I strut past her with a grin to the lift.” WOW! Cold fish up in here! I enter the elevator...err...’lift’, and push the button for the top floor. Lady like, Lady like, Lady like....I’m doing this for my best friend, and need to put her before my...deep...smoldering...passions...of...kinky...nasty....sexxxx. I managed to conatian my inner diablo cachondo, well at least keep it busy milling about, so I can take care of the more important matters at hand. Stepping off the lift with a semi-loud clack from my heels, I flushed embarrassed. “Oh, Miss, It happens to me every day I come in,” The sharply dressed secretary chimes in, easing my feelings in the moment,” Can I interest you in a tea, coffee, or water perhaps?” “A coffee will do nicely,” Damn I was tired after the drive, a grueling 113 miles or so in the scorching heat. “Right, sugar or cream?” “ A little cream and 4 sugars.” “Like it sweet, huh?” “Yes, really cuts the bitterness.” “I understand, Miss,” She hands me the cup on a saucer,” I enjoy it sweet as well. Not really a fan of tea myself. Not much pep, you know?” “Sure,” I chuckle with her as I sit on the comfortable red couch in the echoing room,”Mmm, this is quite the blend.” “Yes, only the best arabica beans imported fresh weekly from Vietnam.” “I had heard they have a strong brew from there,” I take another sip. “Yes, it is only rivaled from the finest beans out of Brazil.” “You don’t say,” I marvel at her knowledge of coffee beans. “But I just did,” She cocks her head sideways,” The beans from South America are quite fond amongst Espresso aficionados.” “Thank you,” I take another sip on my coffee, and it is caffeine heaven. “My pleasure.” Yeah, ok lady. All I know is that this is the best damned coffee I have ever had! Slipping into my own little world, while I wait. Is Eddie a flowers guy? What brings him some 5000 miles away from his home? Is he single? Does he like pizza and horror flicks? My mind swims with millions of questions, and my cream thong begins to absorb my womanly secretion, as I wonder. A while later, I check my phone for the time. Not long after a set of French doors opened to my right. Then I saw the dreamy Mr. Bond with his unsightly unibrow, but to hell with that. I can fix it for him. Indeed he looked like a ‘Bond’, in his suit and bow tie, as he strode across the large room towards me. I hoped I wasn’t hiding behind my small purse squealing like a fangirl. Spoiler: I was totes squealing like a fangirl. “Are you alright Miss...Vasquez?” “Si, estoy bastante bien, gracias,” I flashed a smile up at my future spicy husband. “I...umm...,” He turned to the overly brainy secretary looking awkwardly, and she flashed a small smile and a thumbs up. “Right then, shall we,” he gestures to the door way he came from. “Si, tal caballero,” I manage with a husky tone and narrowed gaze. My brain said focus, remember we are here on a specific goal to help our dear sick friend and roomie. My throbbing clitoris said to seduce this man, and give him the most mind blowing experience he could ever imagine. Me, caught in the middle was torn between such thoughts as to what to do. So I took the middle ground... I rolled my hips, knowing that he could see how wonderful my ass moved in the low cut dress. The heels only added to the effect. “I am sorry, that I must be here in Miss Blaskowicz’s stead, sir. She is so down trodden with the flu, and it pains me greatly not being there to take care of her.” Wait what? Did I just say that, while trying to hypnotize a rich Englishman with my ass? Well I guess I did, but damn I look good in this cobalt old thing. Great for my ass and hips, and ho boy, better buy ticks to the gun show! The girls are not exactly shy, nor petite. “My don’t you look rather...ravishing,” Edward Bond exclaims closing the doors behind him, sealing us in his spacious office. All alone. “Thank you,” I sultryly slink down to the couch,” There is more than just an eyeful” Oh shit! Did I just say that!? Yep! Awkward..... “I am sure there is, Miss Vasquez,” He seated himself with an odd expression behind his large desk,” I am sorry that Miss Blaskowicz could not come. Poor thing, must be suffering. All alone, running nose. Vomiting, aches and pains, fever...” He trails off looking at the ceiling tiles, droning on about the flu for a while. “Yes, terribly awful stuff Mr.Bond. However I am here to conduct the interview on my poor ill friends behalf..” I fumble in my purse for the tiny notepad with...