two good choices
It’s 11am and a call comes in. It’s one of his good friends that he hasn’t seen in a while. She wants to have dinner and wants to know if he’s free. Without hesitation he agrees to a time. There’s a lot to catch up on and things to discuss. The place is locked in and he will catch her then.
2 hours later he’s presented with a problem. A girl he used to see that he still finds attractive. She’s free for the night and wants to wine him and dine him. He’s now stuck in an awkward position.
Both of the women he hasn’t seen for a while. Both of the women are ones he wants to see. As much as he wants to he keeps his original plan. Hopefully he’ll be able to see her next week.
Dig a little deeper
When you first take a look at them they look like the perfect couple. They share a lot more interests than the average pair. They’ve built a relationship that most find enviable and their company at parties is always welcome. She’s happy with him and he’s happy with her.
They rarely fight but when they do they grow stronger. If they were to rate their relationship it’d be close to a ten. They love each other til death and nothing can stop them.
They’re always left breathless behind bedroom doors. He keeps her aroused and ready for more. But there’s one thing that she thinks they could improve on. Sometime she wants to get fucked a whole lot harder.
deviant devoid
She’d always thought she’d be the one he’d run to. The late night phone calls, the cancelled plans. He’d make time for her like she’d make time for him. She’d always thought that what they had was special, something she could almost call perfect.
She was well aware of his other flings. She had complete clarity and knew there were others. Girls he’d always end up seeing. Whether he did it to hurt her or because he enjoyed the freedom, she accepted him for what he was.
Although girls rotated through his number one position, she’d always held number two. As much as she’d wanted to be in that top ranked place, it would jeopardize everything that had. Reality was clear and her position defined. She’s the one that gets to fuck him, but she’ll never be the one to have him.
Racist confessions but not the confessions of a racist
I’ve finished painting my collection and now I’m back on the blog.
Thanks for your patience, whoever’s reading.
I choose check-out lines in the supermarket depending on the nationality of the person serving.
Every time I flag down a taxi I hope that the driver speaks “Australian”English.
I only start conversation with taxi drivers that speak “Australian”English.
I hold my horn down at Asians and Indians that cross the street on red lights.
I don’t use manners with arrogant white sales people.
However, I’d rather give my money to ethnic people when it comes to big ticket items.
I only take advice from white people when it comes to making business decisions.
I only take advice from ethnics when it comes to making taxation decisions.
I’m more inclined to let an Asian woman driving an Echo cut into traffic than a white guy in a 4WD.
I think all ethnics that drive top end luxury cars are criminals.
I think all whites that drive top end luxury cars are Jews.
I’m more impressed by Louis Vuitton on white people than I am by it on Asians, albeit the label being French.
I feel somewhat more proud of my heritage when white people follow what I order when eating in an Asian restaurant.
I’m more inclined to verbally abuse an ethnic than a white person due to the assumption that they don’t understand me.
Questionable Marks
His fingers shake nervously as he sends her a text. A risqué question that will give him an insight to her character and judging by the way she replies he can come to a conclusion.
“I would do so many dirty things to your gorgeous body”.
Elegantly stated but provocatively toned. He leaves his phone on the table and waits for her reply. A part of him thinks she’ll dismiss him abruptly but a part of him hopes she’ll play his dirty little game. Her phone rings in her bag and she sees the message from him. She reads it with a smile but carefully hides her face that’s covered in smitten. She replies to him with a message that almost shocks herself with a deep down notion of shocking him too. She bites her bottom lip and her thumb presses send knowing it’s on his way to his phone without any regret.
His phone vibrates and turns a few degrees on the stained wooden table. He opens the message and as it loads he tries to guess her reply. Will it be rude but appropriate and tell him to stop or will it be a hint to show her appetite is on par with his?
“I dare you” is all that she’s written.
A small shiver makes its way down the centre of his spine and sends a tingle through his loins. He leans back in his chair and thinks of what to reply with. Hiss mind has already gone 2 steps ahead and is planning how he would set out a night he’d spend with her. After 5 minutes of thought he decides it’s better to call. This way he can judge the tone of her voice, pauses between words and her instant reactions. It rings for a while and as he’s about to hang up, she answers.
“Hi”, she says in a soft, gentle tone. “I was just shaving my pussy”.
Even though he’s on the back foot, he casually replies, “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Should I call back later?”
“You’re so well spoken over the phone but such a bad boy in your messages. You’re not interrupting anything, I’ll be done soon. Are you going to come over tonight so I can show it to you?”
He pauses and takes a chance to swallow. Has he bitten off more than he can chew or is this exactly what he’s looking for?
“I’ll be over as soon as I can. Should we do dinner?”
“No. We’ll eat each other.”
someday soon
The memories of her have slowly faded. Her mobile number has been erased from the contacts stored in his phone. He hardly remembers her name and can hardly remember her voice. But what comes to him so vivid are the nights that they had. The nights that they spent never leaving the bedroom. The nights that they spent messing up a hotel. The nights where the heat that seeped out of their pores caused mist to rise and fog up the hotel window. Thoughts of his fingers running over her tight little body will be the ones hard to forget.
It happened so fast that he didn’t get a chance to realize it’d passed. He went from seeing her constantly to hardly speaking to her at all. No more dates and no more dinners. No more phone calls and barely any emails. It was best for them both that they stop being in contact. She had her reasons and he had his. He knew they had had their fun and now their fun was over.
The rules were set from the start that nothing would ever become of them. They were flesh and flesh and emotions were not to get involved. Unfortunately though when you spend a lot of time with someone you can’t help but get attached. Her saw in her things he thought he would never have to witness.Demands and demands with guilt ensuing if requests weren’t fulfilled. A pseudo relationship grew focused less on lust. A needy girl that expected things he wasn’t prepared to give.
He wonders if she knew why it ended and if she thought the feeling was mutual. Was she ok with the split or did she still hold some spite. Regardless of friction he still thinks of those nights. Those nights where they’d explored their most deviant desires. Those nights where they’d spend hours catching their breath. As vivid as the memories come, he will someday forget her.Â
elevator strangers
Floor to ceiling glass surrounds the lobby and reception and the marble floor extends up the walls and meets the edges of the 5 metre high ceilings. 2 leather lounges face each other and are to the left of sliding glass doors that make the entrance. The smell of freshly ground coffee drifts through the doors from the cafe outside. The sun has just risen and is slowly heating up the city. Only a few people wander the streets as they try to get in early for work but in the aforementioned lobby, no one’s there except him. The young director of the company that occupies the 15th floor. There’s a meeting with the board this morning and he’s immaculately dressed. Polished leather shoes and a 3 piece suit, dark navy blue. His waistcoat hides the majority of his silk neck tie and the knot sits perfectly between his straight cutaway collar. He walks across the lobby with a confident stride and presses the button for the lift and takes a step back.Patiently he waits with his hands in his pockets. The light has been illuminated around the button he just pressed. He rocks his weight back and forth between his heels and his toes and he pouts his lips as if he’s about to whistle out a song. He thinks of a tune and just as he starts he’s brought to a sudden pause. He can hear footsteps approaching from the building entry behind him so he stops his whistling now that he knows that he’s no longer alone.The steps have a gentle tap that patterns 2 by 2, but they’re not loud or heavy enough to be a man’s leather shoes. As the steps draw nearer he gets a smell of light perfume. It’s light and refreshing and there’s a hint of vanilla. There’s no musk or wood tones, it’s too light to be a man’s. He turns his head to his left and his sense’s assumptions are correct. A gorgeous young thing has come to a stand-still and joins the wait for the elevator up. He turns to her and smiles. She smiles back. Being quick with his eyes he catches a glimpse of what she’s wearing as his head turns back to face the elevator doors. She wears patent leather heels that come to a point at her toes and wrap around skin coloured stockings that follow their way her delicate calves. The fabric gives her legs a silk, sheer look. Her black business skirt starts just above her knees and hugs her thighs and her arse close like tight cling wrap. He follows the curves of her hips to her plain white blouse that’s tucked neatly into her skirt. Her cuffs are French and the cotton is Egyptian and her handbag by the looks of it is probably Italian. Her face has a soft and gentle look to it and her luscious brown hair rests perfectly on her shoulders. He’s evaluated her image in about a tenth of a second and thoughts about his upcoming meeting are already getting distracted.His mind is elsewhere when he hears her saying something to him. He almost misses the lift as he stands there daydreaming and staring at the lit up button. He snaps out of it daze as he realizes she’s saying “are you coming?†He shakes his head quickly and focuses on what’s in front of him. She stands there, leaning forward, arm propped against the side of the elevator doors. He quickly jumps into the elevator with and a slight red tinge to his complexion and an embarrassed look across his face. “Sorry, I was daydreaming†he says. “That’s okâ€, she replies digging her chin into her collarbone with a slight smirk on her face. They both turn to face the front of the elevator as the awkward silence between ground floor and level 12 next starts. “Level 12?†he asks himself. “Does she work here? She doesn’t look like a rep. How come I’ve never seen her before?†Breaking the silence and trying to salvage his embarrassment, he asks her if she works in the building. She replies by saying, “I’m new to this building but I’ve been working for the same company for a few years now. I was moved to this office from one of the regional officesâ€. They continue talking about their association with the building and its tenants as he looks on interested. Interested not in what she’s talking about but his interest in her and her beautiful face. Her high cheek bones get dimples underneath them every time she smiles and her soft looking lips have a natural gloss to them. Her dark brown eyes hold so much depth and his thoughts get dirty every time she flicks her hair to the side. The elevator comes to an abrupt, sudden stop and stays there still for a couple of seconds. They look at the indicator board and none of the floors have been lit up. They look at each other with worried looks on their faces. “What the fuck just happened?†he asks her rhetorically. He presses and punches the buttons hoping something will work. Nothing. They stay suspended in an elevator that sits who knows how many floors above an empty elevator shaft. He tries to make calls on his cell phone but achieves no signal. He asks her to try hers and they both have no luck. “Try the emergency phone†she says and points her finger and tiny door that’s closed flush with the rest of the panel. He picks up the phone and presses one for “emergencyâ€. His call is answered by a woman on the end of the line. “Hi, I’m stuck in a lift inside the…..yep…..we’ve tried that….It’s lift number 6…….ok thanks we’ll wait hereâ€. “Where else are we going to wait?†she jokes as he hangs up the phone. She giggles and smiles like she did when she was holding the lift. He laughs along with her and gives her a look with his head turned to the side. They both take a moment to accept that they’ll be in there for a while so he unbuttons his collar and rests his back against the wall. “They said they’ll send someone out immediately but she didn’t sound believable†he mutters in an exhausted tone. She rolls her eyes, unconvinced and blows her fringe off her face. Almost simultaneously they slide their weight down the walls and come to a rest on the floor. She says “I guess it’s just you and me then for who knows how long†and then she playfully winks with a cheeky smirk on her face. A grin full of smitten stretches over each of his cheeks as he nods in agreement. “You need to stop looking at your watch and checking your phone†she suggests in a half frustrated tone. “There’s nothing you can doâ€. “You’re right, he replies†as he throws his phone on the floor. “Has anyone told you that you have a really nice smile?†She blushes and touches her shoulder with her chin in an attempt to hide the look on her face. She doesn’t answer the question but she thanks him and smiles. They’ve been in there for over an hour and he’s still trying to figure out parts of her character. She was quite flirtatious earlier but she gets shy when you compliment her. He can’t figure out if she’s attracted to him although he finds it quite obvious that she’s giving off signals. He wonders if he should make a move on her or would it be inappropriate? What would happen if someone finally opened the door on them and they were both half dressed? Questions run through his head during their conversation on food. It comes to an end when they both decide that white wine in more versatile than red.“What should we do now?†he asks “we’ve been in here for more than an hourâ€. She’s been seduced by his confidence and his sharp, defined jaw line. She’s also quite fond of the compliments he’s been throwing her way. Confident that her following actions will receive reciprocity, she answers “Want to burn 400 calories?†Confused with the question he asks her to explain. Without saying a word she crawls over the floor that separates them and puts a hand on his knee and a hand on his chest. Although still somewhat confused he accepts her invasion as she softly licks her lips as they move closer to his. An inch of space separates his lips from hers and being the gentleman he is he can’t leave her waiting. He moves his head slowly forward and closes his eyes. Hers follow. She can feel his breath against the side her neck but that goes away after their lips connect. Silence. The only noise to be heard is her softly whimper as he puts his hand on the side of her face and pulls her in closer. She hops onto his lap and straddles his waist. She pushes her chest as hard as she can into his so she can feel his breaths get shorter and shorter. Just as things start to get heated they feel the lift jerk into motion. The lift bell dings and the doors start to open. She quickly jumps up and adjusts her skirt. 4 of her female co-workers stand there looking on in surprise. A tinge of jealously is smeared across all of their faces. “Ummm I guess we’ll have to continue this another time†she says as she exits the elevator and greets her colleagues as she quickly brushes past. “Bye†he says with a cheerful grin on his face. Her co-workers look down at him sitting on the elevator floor. “Well aren’t you a lucky man today?†one jokes and looks to her side at the others. “More like her being a lucky girl†another says. “Do you guys mind telling me what that girls name was?†he asks as the lift doors close on him.
strangers for a night
It was a warm summer night and the water was calm. The waves slowly lapped against the bricks on the dock and the breeze swept under the awnings and through the doors of the bar. The al fresco area was half empty and that somehow increased the intimacy of the place. He had his back facing the ocean and the rest facing her. They’d met just recently as she was walking past his table. He was sitting there alone and was waiting for friends but told them not to bother coming after she agreed to a drink.
All of his attention was focused on her and he had no shame in making it blatantly obvious. She blushed and turned her head to the side, burying her chin in her collar bone as an attempt to hide her face. It was exactly the reaction that he expected to happen. He grinned lightly, expressing his satisfaction. She never thought someone that she met so randomly could be so intriguing and almost make her melt with lathered compliments.
He excused himself politely as he went to the bar. She sat there alone and looked out to the ocean, the wind brushing her gorgeous brown hair across her dark featured face. Thoughts raced through her head about where this night would end. Would it end at his place? Would it end at hers? Would his friends come along and take him away? In the back of her mind she hoped that they didn’t. She was enjoying the time she was spending with this handsome stranger.
4 glasses got placed at the table in front of her and then he casually entered back into her peripheral vision. His charming smile made her do nothing but reply with a smile thrown back. 2 drinks were for her and 2 drinks were for him. “He wants to get me drunk!â€, she thought to herself. This didn’t bother her and after they toasted their glasses she took down the whole drink in one huge gulp. He sat there stunned with his mouth wide open and drink holding hand floating just above the table. He was impressed. She knew he was. She smiled inside.
The waiter came past and collected their glasses. Once the table was cleared, he leaned across the table and ran 2 fingers across her forehead. Without confusion or apprehension she remained still, and savoured his touch. He slowly ran his fingers along the side of her face collecting stray pieces of her fringe and then placing them behind her ear. “I want to admire your face†he said in his baritone voice. She almost melted. He knew she was his and she was prepared to give him anything he wanted.
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stutter
Your hands shake uncontrollably and you can barely hold a pen
You’re nervous and excited and your appetite’s gone.
Â
You pace up and down the hallway to try relieve the anxiety.
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The clothes that you’re wearing have to be cut to perfection.
The mirror, the bathroom, you have to look good.
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You’re not usually this pedantic but this time is different.
Â
She’s arriving in 10 and you can feel every second.
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The night you have planned but there’s room for a wonder.
Â
Is she matching your outfit or is she wearing a dress and heels?
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Does her skin shimmer and glow like it always does?
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It’s been 2 months of dating but she still captures your breath.
Â
She focuses your vision on her and makes your heart skip beats.
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She makes your palms always sweat and make you stumble on words.
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You’ve planned everything you’ll say and the right time to say it.
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But when she finally arrives, nothing comes out.
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here’s my card
Socializing has gone to shit. People either talk about themselves too much or don’t talk enough. “I do this, I do that, I manage this, I manage that, I’m so busy in meetings that I don’t have time for thisâ€. Fuck off, just because your job title has the word “manager†in it doesn’t mean you’re a real manager. Replace “manager†with “executive†in job titles such as Account Manager, Relationship Manager and Business Manager and it’ll make no difference. The only thing they manage is a task, not a team or people so get your head out of your pretend management stratosphere and back down to your 3 figure a week Earth and stop pretending you’re important in a suit that doesn’t fit, a Blackberry that isn’t linked to your work email and “crocodile†skin shoes.
Now when meeting random people in bars and nightclubs or whatever, talking about work can sometimes get a bit awkward. Obviously there’s some sort of unwritten law that to ask about work is standard social interaction procedure. Inevitably, work more often than not comes up in conversation. Now I have this problem that when I get onto the topic of work, I avoid talking about my job as much as possible. It instigates a description which hardly anyone understands and plus I don’t get to use the word “manager†in my job title thus making me feel inferior and sad. I also have this habit of saying “Oh really? I’m in the market for [service/product of person’s industry]â€.
This happened just tonight when I was at the shops and an old acquaintance came up to say Hi and we got onto the topic of work. He worked at a furniture store and that’s when I started digging my hole. “Oh really? I’m in the market for a lounge actuallyâ€. I’m not, but for some fucking reason I said I was. Maybe to keep the conversation flowing even though I didn’t want it to or maybe I just wanted to talk about the design of ergonomic chairs. So we went on and on rattling on about lounges, chases, leathers and armrests. I used the old -subtly look at my watch- trick and he amiably got the hint. Before we parted though, he handed me his business card. I looked at it and thought “what a fucking wanker!†but then thought again. He handed me his card with a legitimate reason, that reason being me leading him on in the hope of a potential sale. Valid reason, and also I forgot his name so I knew what to say when we said bye instead of picking from the impersonal word pool consisting of mate, champ, buddy and dude. But this got me thinking about all the other times that people have given me their business cards. Most of the time it’s because we talk about business and it’s the usual networking thing. But then there’s those OTHER times. Those fucking times when you walk away and think “Fuck that guy was a fucking wanker!â€. These are the times when people don’t talk enough. They think that a laminated piece of 3.5in x 2in 350gsm silk board with 12pt font and fancy colours can substitute conversation. And it all starts with 7 words that make you cringe just thinking about the potential outcome.
“So, what do you do for work?â€
Now this question can be answered like a normal person and use words to explain their profession or you can go for complete fucking wank status and, using no words at all, reach into your $500 suit jacket pocket and produce your business card complete with hardly impressive job title and contact details I will never use. “WHAT A FUCKING WANKER!†will be the words that instantly enter my thoughts. And after the transaction is made, this in turn will provoke a reaction in true Johnny Depp fashion as witnessed in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the business card flick and discard followed by the mental image of a hand wrapped around an invisible cylindrical object moving up and down in a pumping motion.
This I don’t understand. Is it just someone so caught up in their own arrogance that they need people to know that they’re an “account manager†so people can sarcastically say “ooooooh manager huh?†and hope that they’ll be impressed or is it because it’s their way of drumming up potential business and be remembered when the business card receiver is in the market for a lounge or whatever? Whatever it is, me and most people that I have talked to about this have one thing in common. That one thing is common is that we all think “MY GOD WHAT A FUCKING WANKER!†whenever someone, for no reason at all other than to tell us about their profession hands us their business card. You’re doing me a favour though, business cards are pretty good at cleaning out the dirt underneath fingernails.
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