I was at McCracken’s Pub. It’s where I always went after we had a fight. I wasn’t one to drown my sorrows in cheap gin, but I did need to just get away. I was taking a sip of my club soda when I noticed the girl. Girl, woman, babe, potential-horizontal-partner — whatever the current nomenclature — she was it. Pretty, Asian and in her early twenties. Make that Asian-with-tits, better than chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream. It figured. I can get in a row with my fiance, but I can’t seem to avoid her. Like the girl in the bar, Ginny was an Asian-with-tits. They were different. Ginny (Virginia) was a Singaporean, twenty-eight, business suit and very profession. The one at the bar was young wearing a summer dress that was destine to be given away once she hit thirty. There was an unspoken rule that such outfits can only [ ...continue reading "McCracken's Pub" ]
I once went to a conference in another part of the country. I met many people who I’d known from afar in the past. You know how it is the day before a conference starts. People hang out in the bar and the lobby. I met some friends, and noticed this tall, quiet man who was with them. We sort of watched one another as we engaged in a six-way conversation. I thought he was cute, but, then I think MOST men are. I am generally just a looker.
Finally, someone said, “Oh, Jane, this is Len Josephs.”
“Len! Wow! I’ve always wanted to meet you!” We shook hands, but wound up hugging one another. Len and I had exchanged some mail years before, and admired one another’s work. Instantly, I wanted to take him to bed. It was quite a shock because I don’t normally feel that strongly about someone seconds [ ...continue reading "The Conference Ball" ]
When they reached the hotel bar, they were dismayed to discover that the convention had fairly packed it with bodies, most dressed in some form of outlandish fetish costumes.
“Well people,” Mandy said, “it looks like we have two choices: wade into that lot and try to find someone who’s willing to share a table, or go back to the room and order room service.”
“I vote for room service,” commented Jason, looking at the crowd with a little distaste, “I mean, this place is WEDGED.”
“Well I vote we wade in,” Flora put in, “I LIKE crowds… but then you knew that.”
“Yeah, we know,” Jason shot back sarcastically, “after all, you might get lucky and get felt up.” He grinned to take the edge off his words.
Flora made an abortive attempt to pinch him and replied, “Look asshole, just because you…”
“That’s enough, you two,” interrupted Mandy, “remember, this isn’t a democracy. Since [ ...continue reading "Part 5 "An American Pervert in London"" ]
“So, where do we go for lunch?” asked Jason, looking half-heartedly in one of the hundreds of shop windows. Yet another combination tobacconist’s and news stand. The neighborhood was rife with them. An annoyed-looking proprietor stared at him as he pressed his nose against the glass, and he realized he was acting like a tourist again and looked away.
The view in Flora’s direction was decidedly better, anyway. She had dressed up before leaving the hotel room, apparently to torment him. It was working. Now she was wearing a very tight, very short latex miniskirt in an outrageous shade of purple. The latex was so thin, it was slightly translucent, and when the light hit it right, he could see little bubbles in the sweat between her ass and the skirt.
Combined with the form-fitting jacket in a matching shade of patent leather, the total effect was staggeringly loud, but very [ ...continue reading "An American Pervert in London" ]
I live in a suburban community adjacent to one of the nation’s largest western cities. It’s a compromise: I’d live farther out but then I’d have to leave *really* early in the morning to get to work downtown. Even so, I might consider getting farther away from the urban sprawl, but I’m divorced and I got the house; my ex moved back east and took the savings account. So I stay.
More specifically, I live between two cops and across the street from another, a fact which does *not* make me feel particularly secure. On one side is a retired suburban cop. He has serious problems with both his back and his drinking and he doesn’t get out much, though his rather dumpy wife is out there fiddling with the soaker hoses in good weather.
Across the street is a retired German cop from Chicago who moved here to be near [ ...continue reading "Neighbors" ]