Hello,
Happy Easter everyone! I hope you all had a good bank holiday - if you get one that is. Here in the UK we got a four day weekend stretching from Friday to Monday. And after the way I ended the last edition I should probably explain what I actually got up to. Well for the most part the weather held out, and by that I mean it didn't rain. It did snow several times, the most inconvenient was when I was walking from the station to my cousin's birthday party. Note to self: Walking across a muddy field with sheepskin boots on and trying to look sexy in front of footballers is not a good look when you have the arctic flying into you at forty-miles an hour. But aside from the weather everything else went swimmingly. Apart from a minor dispute however with Miss Chocolate which I shall not go into as I would get so angry you could fry an egg on my face. It has not yet been fully resolved I think but things like this will need time to grow again. Fingers crossed we'll be OK soon though, I need someone who wont disapprove of my Harlequin ways when were out. I had a free house to myself the weekend as Ma and Pa went away for a dirty weekend in a Caravan. 'If the caravan's rocking, don't come knocking' is there cringe moto - I don't think there is anything less sexually appealing than thinking that people over the age of 45 ''do-it'' *Sick face and vomit noise*
Thursday night after work I had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee come round and we vegged out watching telly and eating pizza. After Miss Tweedle-Dumb had left to visit her boyfriend, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I decided to hit the sack. That was until we realised we couldn't lock the front door as I had misplaced my house keys somewhere in the lounge. I knew they were there as I had let myself and the girls in and after locking the door behind us, put them down somewhere. We had been looking constantly for several hours now and in the small hours of Friday morning I called it a night, pushed all the furniture back to its rightful place and wedged a coffee table behind the front door. This did not however stop Miss Tweedle-Dee from making up tales of how we would be raped and shot in the night by intruders to which I brushed off despite thinking the very same thing the previous night when the door had been locked and my Father in the room adjacent. Morning broke through the window as we both squinted at one another. lying in bed together with morning breath and hair all over the place like an old married couple. I investigated downstairs and promptly returned to infirm my bed-partner that there was no intruders in the night and if there were then they were very sneaky to get out again putting everything back right as I left it. Once up and dressed we started to plan our day when Miss Tweedle-Dumb called with some spooky news. "I have found your keys" she says excitedly but nervously holding back more information. After probing she continued. "They were in the back of my car, neatly placed on the floor behind where you were sitting" she said. Gobsmacked I started to well up with joy and horror. Who could have put them there? We didn't go back into the car once we were in the house? Did the invisible elderly lady who lives with me do it as she has done with many other things before? We may never know.
Later on we left for some shopping near London with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and some other friends of ours. As usual the day ended with lunch in our favourite pub, gossipping over men and other idiosyncrasies as well as our ghostly encounter the previous night. Throughout Saturday morning before I went out to spend the day with family, I rearranged the house to accommodate my friends who were coming to mine for pre-drinks before Saturdays big 80's V 90's headphone-disco night out. The table was laid out with a roulette shot's game, a game of naughty charades was nearby. Alcohol, mixers and chocolate was covering the counters in the kitchen. An airbed had been arranged (but not blown up due to the lack of batteries I had working) and make-up, hair and dressing stations had been assigned in the lounge. Everyone was due to arrive at 7pm. Well, 7pm came and went, so did 7.30pm and 8pm. Finally at quarter-to-nine they arrived. Miss Tweedle-Dumb's car had broken down and there was issues trying to find parts to fix it. Regardless they were here and we started to get ready, dance, drink and play games. Lets just say you don't know your friends until you play a round or two of 'never have I ever' with them.
Calling a cab to town we darted around looking for money, phone and most of all keys! Jumping in the cab I think I was the only one to carry on drinking and also to strike up conversation with the fellow that was driving us towards a night of madness and mayhem. Once inside the alternative-club the headphones went on and the inhibitions came off. I spent the night howling away to cheesy pop classics from our childhood and dancing the moves that matched them. At one point I found myself "lost" and coincidentally made friends with a very nice chap who showed me how he dances - with his tongue. As in kissing - nothing else, god, I'm not that much of a floozy! Then before I knew it, somehow I was on the floor in a heap with my arms and legs flailing around like an upside down beetle looking for help. Thankfully this young man whose face was somewhat blurred by the amount of alcohol I had exceeded picked me up and just continued where he left off. I must have got bored as I just left and went to go and find the others without even saying goodbye. Rude I know - but I'm blaming it on the alcohol. That night we all returned home where apparently there was an argument over ordering a take-away of which I was in the middle of completely KO on the lounge floor. I woke the following morning on the flattened airbed on my bedroom floor after being kicked from my drunken slumber by Miss Tweedle-Dumb as she made her way to the bathroom.
Sunday I spent mostly recovering form a hangover that I had didn't anticipate. I never get hangovers. Why was Sunday the day to start?! Fully-recovered Monday was spent in my home-town wondering around boutiques and being chatted up by weirdo-couple's trying to stroke me. Strangely though, after the weekend that I have had I have not made any pounces on the male variety and for once in a very, very long time I am not lusting or longing for anyone. I suppose this is what its like to be single then, but hopefully not forever. Out on the prowl soon I hope.
'Til
next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Harlequin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harlequin. Show all posts
Tuesday, 2 April 2013
Tuesday, 5 March 2013
A Dog's Life ...
Evening all,
So after my girlie weekend away I have come back relaxed and refreshed. It hasn't been without its spills though. nearly becoming human ice-cubes waiting for a cab after going to the theatre, arguments over who stank out the bathroom last and living off of pizza and fizzy drinks for an entire weekend are all highlights, not to mention the fact that I we all played truth or dare for many hours whilst getting unsuccessfully drunk. However this weekend has been much of an eye-opener to me, although Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb shall never know. Being away from my home area made me realise how secretly lonely I am. I mean I'm not going to be investing in a cat any time soon ... I'm not that lonely, but It did make me think about my relationship status and even more so about putting myself up on the shelf again. Thing is though, its a high shelf and a log way to fall if it all goes wrong again. That and how ca I guarantee that I wont just be left there? I know I'm only young at 21 but I found myself straying from the girls, wondering round the baby section of an expensive department store; cooing and touching all the toys and blankets, clothes and furnishings for a child's nursery. A familiar feeling returned to me that reminded me that, whilst on contraception and not wanting to start a family until I had a marriage and stability, my biological clock was ticking by. I tried to bring up the subject as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I traipsed around. Strangely it was Miss Tweedle-Dee who sympathised and expressed the same concern, whereas Miss Tweedle-Dumb who is settled and in a steady relationship is not so worried. It truly terrifies me that I shall get to an age where I have nothing to show for my time on this planet, not a marriage, career or child in site. Just me. Alone. I am praying that this is never the case.
On a lighter note, the girls and I all made a trip to a well-know 'adult' high street store and whilst a very British me just blushed and stood around looking embarrassed and out of place, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb decided to invest in a 'life-enhancing personal device'. After much negotiation and begging they gave in with trying to convince me to buy one and themselves went up to the counter and completed their seedy purchases separately. I on the other hand, within minutes of getting home on the Sunday evening was online looking at things that vibrate, swivel, pulse, gyrate, bend and twist. Its ordered for delivery tomorrow. At work. I hope its not too obvious. Could be quite awkward explaining away a buzzing box to the boss? Its not that I'm frigid or non-sexual, Its just that I'm indifferent to it. If you offered me sex with the right person (and from previous experience the wrong ones too) I would gladly oblige. But somehow self-exploration is way down on my to do list of a night. I would much rather eat unhealthy snacks and watch telly wrapped up in bed, thank-you. Funnily enough I was discussing this with Mr. Mot last week. He had asked why I didn't 'indulge' and I responded in the only way I know how - I giggled and brushed it off. But there is no getting around Mr. Mot, oh-no; so I gave in and spilled. "Why should I bother trying to do it myself and get no-where when I can just find someone who can do it much better than I can and produce better results?" At this point I had rather pissed on Mr. Mot's bonfire as I think he was hoping that the conversation would progress in its usual late-night manner. I tried to explain that ever since I was sexually curious there had always been someone around to lend a hand as it were. They came and they went but my most constant and regular entertainer was a big secret to all who knew me in school.
Mr. Woof liked the oddest of things, hence the naming here. We have been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In school, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were but behind a few closed corridor doors and next to my green locker he was a demanding animal that like to rule and be ruled. Mr. Woof had a fondness for his own nipples being pleasured and enjoyed me playing with them very much. Several times we nearly got caught in the act, and I am sure that on many occasions my tutor knew something odd was happening outside her classroom - I mean, who spends nearly three hour-long lunchtimes a week standing by a locker "hugging" a friend. As we got older the intensity was stepped up. Math class was shared sitting next to each other whilst Mr. Woof's hands wandered over my school skirt and I talked to him about the work in a low, sensual voice. During a Saturday morning revision class Mr. Woof and I met early and went into one of the new recently built toilets. There we experimented with soft foreplay, biting, sucking, scratching. The fact that I was wearing glasses and had purposely worn red lipstick was something of a turn on for him, even now. I knew what I was doing, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The little affair with the boy who I had a crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Of course all secrets come out eventually and after that everything was on hold for a while until it quietened down again. But I had lost a good friend and lots of other pals had also turned there backs on me because of the leaked liaisons.
After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners and loose my virginity with someone who actually meant something to me, whereas he attempted university, dropped out discovered drink and drugs and continued to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Mr. Woof turned into something of a womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin. Rumour had it he lost his virginity to a forty year-old beside the bins at the back of a local pub. Classy! Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him. Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had with a "Hi, how are you?" and a person to make me laugh which was hard at that time. After reading the Fifty Shades novels I decided to embark on something of my own contract. And so we began another affair. Again I knew what I was getting into, but unlike in school where by I had a major crush on this guy, I had just come out of a long term relationship and needed something that was no-strings-attached fun. Something to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy day. Mostly it was just phone calls, usually relieving Mr. Woof of some form. Any time I would be there to answer his calls - late night, my lunch hour at work, even three-in the morning; you name it I did every possible shift. A round the clock help-line I suppose. But I enjoyed it, it brought me relief and helped me boost my self-esteem. Admittedly Mr. Woof was into some weirder things now we were older, ad I don't suppose Fifty Shades helped either. Strap-on's, dressing him in women's clothes, nipple clamps, name-calling and spitting were all part an parcel of our verbally drawn up contract. For once I wasn't on the receiving end and was able to dish out punishment like mash at dinner time. On one occasion, late at night I had grown tired and was knowledgeable to the fact that he was close and so told him to bark for me. Mr. Woof hesitated at first but after demanding it he obliged and barked softly. Upon further instruction from his mistress he woofed louder at which point must have felt good as he finished, panting that it was the best session yet.
Encounters like this make me smile with happiness, knowing that I can bring pleasure and relief to someone is a good feeling and to be in control and dominate someone id a great feeling I had never experienced before Mr. Woof came along - pardon the pun. I like the fact that nothing is hidden, all cards are on the table and we ca be honest about the fact that what we have be it past and future is no strings attached fun with no feelings getting involved and therefore avoiding a messy end situation. And whilst we are not in contact at the moment, I am sure that it wont be before long that he has finished with the most recent Beau on the block and comes crawling back to his mistress!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after my girlie weekend away I have come back relaxed and refreshed. It hasn't been without its spills though. nearly becoming human ice-cubes waiting for a cab after going to the theatre, arguments over who stank out the bathroom last and living off of pizza and fizzy drinks for an entire weekend are all highlights, not to mention the fact that I we all played truth or dare for many hours whilst getting unsuccessfully drunk. However this weekend has been much of an eye-opener to me, although Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb shall never know. Being away from my home area made me realise how secretly lonely I am. I mean I'm not going to be investing in a cat any time soon ... I'm not that lonely, but It did make me think about my relationship status and even more so about putting myself up on the shelf again. Thing is though, its a high shelf and a log way to fall if it all goes wrong again. That and how ca I guarantee that I wont just be left there? I know I'm only young at 21 but I found myself straying from the girls, wondering round the baby section of an expensive department store; cooing and touching all the toys and blankets, clothes and furnishings for a child's nursery. A familiar feeling returned to me that reminded me that, whilst on contraception and not wanting to start a family until I had a marriage and stability, my biological clock was ticking by. I tried to bring up the subject as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I traipsed around. Strangely it was Miss Tweedle-Dee who sympathised and expressed the same concern, whereas Miss Tweedle-Dumb who is settled and in a steady relationship is not so worried. It truly terrifies me that I shall get to an age where I have nothing to show for my time on this planet, not a marriage, career or child in site. Just me. Alone. I am praying that this is never the case.
On a lighter note, the girls and I all made a trip to a well-know 'adult' high street store and whilst a very British me just blushed and stood around looking embarrassed and out of place, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb decided to invest in a 'life-enhancing personal device'. After much negotiation and begging they gave in with trying to convince me to buy one and themselves went up to the counter and completed their seedy purchases separately. I on the other hand, within minutes of getting home on the Sunday evening was online looking at things that vibrate, swivel, pulse, gyrate, bend and twist. Its ordered for delivery tomorrow. At work. I hope its not too obvious. Could be quite awkward explaining away a buzzing box to the boss? Its not that I'm frigid or non-sexual, Its just that I'm indifferent to it. If you offered me sex with the right person (and from previous experience the wrong ones too) I would gladly oblige. But somehow self-exploration is way down on my to do list of a night. I would much rather eat unhealthy snacks and watch telly wrapped up in bed, thank-you. Funnily enough I was discussing this with Mr. Mot last week. He had asked why I didn't 'indulge' and I responded in the only way I know how - I giggled and brushed it off. But there is no getting around Mr. Mot, oh-no; so I gave in and spilled. "Why should I bother trying to do it myself and get no-where when I can just find someone who can do it much better than I can and produce better results?" At this point I had rather pissed on Mr. Mot's bonfire as I think he was hoping that the conversation would progress in its usual late-night manner. I tried to explain that ever since I was sexually curious there had always been someone around to lend a hand as it were. They came and they went but my most constant and regular entertainer was a big secret to all who knew me in school.
Mr. Woof liked the oddest of things, hence the naming here. We have been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In school, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were but behind a few closed corridor doors and next to my green locker he was a demanding animal that like to rule and be ruled. Mr. Woof had a fondness for his own nipples being pleasured and enjoyed me playing with them very much. Several times we nearly got caught in the act, and I am sure that on many occasions my tutor knew something odd was happening outside her classroom - I mean, who spends nearly three hour-long lunchtimes a week standing by a locker "hugging" a friend. As we got older the intensity was stepped up. Math class was shared sitting next to each other whilst Mr. Woof's hands wandered over my school skirt and I talked to him about the work in a low, sensual voice. During a Saturday morning revision class Mr. Woof and I met early and went into one of the new recently built toilets. There we experimented with soft foreplay, biting, sucking, scratching. The fact that I was wearing glasses and had purposely worn red lipstick was something of a turn on for him, even now. I knew what I was doing, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The little affair with the boy who I had a crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Of course all secrets come out eventually and after that everything was on hold for a while until it quietened down again. But I had lost a good friend and lots of other pals had also turned there backs on me because of the leaked liaisons.
After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners and loose my virginity with someone who actually meant something to me, whereas he attempted university, dropped out discovered drink and drugs and continued to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Mr. Woof turned into something of a womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin. Rumour had it he lost his virginity to a forty year-old beside the bins at the back of a local pub. Classy! Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him. Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had with a "Hi, how are you?" and a person to make me laugh which was hard at that time. After reading the Fifty Shades novels I decided to embark on something of my own contract. And so we began another affair. Again I knew what I was getting into, but unlike in school where by I had a major crush on this guy, I had just come out of a long term relationship and needed something that was no-strings-attached fun. Something to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy day. Mostly it was just phone calls, usually relieving Mr. Woof of some form. Any time I would be there to answer his calls - late night, my lunch hour at work, even three-in the morning; you name it I did every possible shift. A round the clock help-line I suppose. But I enjoyed it, it brought me relief and helped me boost my self-esteem. Admittedly Mr. Woof was into some weirder things now we were older, ad I don't suppose Fifty Shades helped either. Strap-on's, dressing him in women's clothes, nipple clamps, name-calling and spitting were all part an parcel of our verbally drawn up contract. For once I wasn't on the receiving end and was able to dish out punishment like mash at dinner time. On one occasion, late at night I had grown tired and was knowledgeable to the fact that he was close and so told him to bark for me. Mr. Woof hesitated at first but after demanding it he obliged and barked softly. Upon further instruction from his mistress he woofed louder at which point must have felt good as he finished, panting that it was the best session yet.
Encounters like this make me smile with happiness, knowing that I can bring pleasure and relief to someone is a good feeling and to be in control and dominate someone id a great feeling I had never experienced before Mr. Woof came along - pardon the pun. I like the fact that nothing is hidden, all cards are on the table and we ca be honest about the fact that what we have be it past and future is no strings attached fun with no feelings getting involved and therefore avoiding a messy end situation. And whilst we are not in contact at the moment, I am sure that it wont be before long that he has finished with the most recent Beau on the block and comes crawling back to his mistress!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 12 February 2013
A Night of Waistcoats, Free Drinks and Disappointment
Hi Guys,
So another week another entry. But also a few more tales to tell. I have just finished saying goodbye to an Aunt of mine who is visiting from southern Ireland. After escaping the uncomfortable heat of my fathers lounge we went for a sneaky cigarette and chat outside. I discovered that it is not only my friends that follow me and my blog. Turns out Auntie-Ireland is a big fan?!
As explained in the last post Miss Chocolate and I were having a night out on the tiles. And a night out on the tiles it was. It started with my parents going away for the weekend to London and so I had the whole house to myself - Bliss! I got ready as usual only to find the only hairdryer in the house was going to London on a trip too. Very unhappy little lady, with added frizzy hair. I planned on wearing a little black number, 'The Knockout' dress I bought from a well-known high street shop. In fact I was quite impressed that I had fitted into there sizes as I am a self confessed calorie-ignorer. As I left for the station looked hot to trott and with a sheer front and back panel to the dress I had to have balls to be wearing it. Upon arriving to said location and meeting with Miss Chocolate I split my tights and proceeded to the nearest corner shop to by some more, only to then barter with the assistant to try and get a discount. I ended up paying £2.99 for 4 pairs of black opaque tights that little old ladies wear. Once we entering the club, Miss Chocolate and I quickly hit the bar and necked a few and chatted for a bit until the conversation took a turn towards the subject of Mr. Coffee. I had spoken to him briefly that afternoon but as with every time we speak, it is never long enough for me to edge towards asking him on a date. And yes I have resigned myself to the fact that whilst he is lovely, if this is going to anywhere it will yet again be me tugging on the reins. I had told Miss Chocolate that Mr. Coffee was due to be out tonight, weather it was in attendance at the same establishment or not was another thing entirely. Apparently this had given Miss Chocolate a spiffing idea to text my undying yurn for him and also a voice mail message too.
As we yet again approached the bar, a man started coming onto us. To his dismay Miss Chocolate and I pulled out our favourite one-liner saved especially for creeps like him and told him that we were lesbians out on a les-only-bender (no pun intended). Graciously he still bought us a drink though, but continued to pester us all night, probably in the hope of watching some girl on girl action. While slowly getting more and more drunk I decided that as he had not responded (no surprise) that I should pursue other avenues of interest. Then, just as I was explaining my plot the most incredible, fairy book man appeared glowing through the dry ice and the coloured lights. All four points I look for in a man were checked off. Shoes: Made of leather, slightly pointed and modern. Eyes: Deep chestnut brown and protected by some practical geeky specs. Teeth: Shiny white and squeaky clean. Hair: Strawberry blonde in a roughed up style, something I was itching to run my fingers through. All four points is a rare find, but then add on top the fact that he was wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers, accompanied by a matching waistcoat. A black tie gently finished off the combination along with a tie pin. I mean who wears them. No one, unless your like a proper nice 'take-me-home-to-mummy-and-daddy' kinda guy. Accompanying his attire was a white handkerchief tucked neatly into the pocket of his waistcoat. Not a piece of white paper carefully folded to pretend, nor a natty napkin from the local chippy. A proper gentleman's handkerchief. I froze. This was it! Yasmin sensed I was on the prowl and promptly said to go and get him, and like a sexy lioness I stalked over to my prey. The intention was that if I had big enough balls to wear this dress and come out of the house with my hair half curled then why the hell not. As I approached my victim I mentioned how I liked his waistcoat and he fondly admired my dress and touched my hair whilst commenting on its prettiness. At this point I nearly lost it and ravished him right there and then, but I played it cool. We chatted and he mentioned how he looked similar to a posh billionaire whom I know of. I agreed and before I had a chance to shut my mouth the alcohol explained how I had a massive crush on him. Best move ever! After conversing for a substantial time we headed off in separate directions to find yet again more beverages. I returned to Miss Chocolate to find her smiling ear to ear, almost splitting her face in half. She and I both knew that the chase was on!
We tried to keep track of Mr.Waistcoat and his poshly clad entourage but it was getting harder as the club got busier. Miss Chocolate and I kept and eye out for him and she would always push me in his direction. I would always gracefully return the favour whenever I saw Miss Chocolate's 'Type', however she seemed to be more Gazelle than Lioness when it came down to it and would sprint for the nearest hideout. After a while I got bored of trying with Mr. Waistcoat and pursued someone that was more easily seduced. It didn't take long to lure someone in and we started to attempt idle small talk on a crowded dance floor surrounded by revellers and banging tunes. Before long we were having a soft make-out session and I must say that whilst his face was a tad bristly, he wasn't a bad kisser. I yet again tired of him and moved out again towards Miss Chocolate was seated sipping on a straight Cola as she was driving. It was getting late and I had not yet found a meal to take home. Now I know this sounds like I'm a bit of a Harlequin and all but the thing is all women do it. We all look for a guy when were out to make a move on or to tempt him over to us and buy us a drink or just say 'Hi'. Difference is I'm brave enough to talk about it openly. If a man did it - which they do - it would be seen as normal and probably given a high-five approval. Just because Ive got mammary glands doesn't mean I cant go on the prowl for fresh meat!
Mr. Waistcoat was nowhere to be found, Mr. Coffee wasn't responding, and I had gotten bored with Mr. Bumfuzz. I approached my final target, intent on making this one count. I had seen him around before and smiled and said 'Hey' a few times but now I made my move. Yet again I opened with my full-proof, undefeated line. Hook. Line. Sinker. As we started dancing he softly stroked my left arm as we swayed against the music and lights. It sounds creepy but was actually very sensual. Again another nice young man. That was until I went to touch his arm, but as I went to affectionately return the stroking favour, our hands accidentally bumped into one another. Now usually this wouldn't be an issue, especially maybe in the sort of situation, however it is not usual for his hand to be mangled and twisted in such a way that I nearly recoiled in horror. I kept calm though and willed myself not to look down at his gammy hand. Maybe it was just default? Maybe he just had an erection because you were so hot and was trying to expel it by making funny hands? Besides the rest of him wasn't deformed in any way. I mean it wasn't like I was dancing with Quasimodo or anything. He seemed nice and not in the slightest strange. Pushing this thought to the back of my head, I turned to face my fellow sister of Singlesville. Her face changed as she looked at the clock on her phone. Hearing the music slowly die and the lights start to come on I swiftly left Mr. Take-My-Strowng-Hand and made my way to Miss Chocolates side. Only to discover that I had twelve minutes to make it to my train on time. If I didn't make this one, I would have an hour wait until the next one at 4.15am. Like a strong Ox she pulled me away and pushed me into the path of the newly founded Mr. Waistcoat. Intoxicated, I stood there until I was nudged into asking for his number. I cautiously entered the digits one-by-one in the effort not to fluff up one last attempt at hitting on him. Realising I had minutes to spare I said my goodbyes and left, fleeing into the night like Cinderella.
After frantically running to the station I narrowly got on the train before leaving and got home safely. I did however end up throwing up and only managing to reach for my Mothers cherished crystal key bowl on the coffee table. I did a good job of washing up the following morning and I am sure she shall never find out. Disappointingly I didn't see Mr. Coffee but also that I never brought anyone home but maybe that was for the best given my unsettled stomach. On the plus side I have Mr. Waistcoats number and have been talking to him today so we shall see where this one goes, although I don't think it shall go very far, given the circumstances we met upon aren't the most romantical?! We shall have to wait and see ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
So another week another entry. But also a few more tales to tell. I have just finished saying goodbye to an Aunt of mine who is visiting from southern Ireland. After escaping the uncomfortable heat of my fathers lounge we went for a sneaky cigarette and chat outside. I discovered that it is not only my friends that follow me and my blog. Turns out Auntie-Ireland is a big fan?!
As explained in the last post Miss Chocolate and I were having a night out on the tiles. And a night out on the tiles it was. It started with my parents going away for the weekend to London and so I had the whole house to myself - Bliss! I got ready as usual only to find the only hairdryer in the house was going to London on a trip too. Very unhappy little lady, with added frizzy hair. I planned on wearing a little black number, 'The Knockout' dress I bought from a well-known high street shop. In fact I was quite impressed that I had fitted into there sizes as I am a self confessed calorie-ignorer. As I left for the station looked hot to trott and with a sheer front and back panel to the dress I had to have balls to be wearing it. Upon arriving to said location and meeting with Miss Chocolate I split my tights and proceeded to the nearest corner shop to by some more, only to then barter with the assistant to try and get a discount. I ended up paying £2.99 for 4 pairs of black opaque tights that little old ladies wear. Once we entering the club, Miss Chocolate and I quickly hit the bar and necked a few and chatted for a bit until the conversation took a turn towards the subject of Mr. Coffee. I had spoken to him briefly that afternoon but as with every time we speak, it is never long enough for me to edge towards asking him on a date. And yes I have resigned myself to the fact that whilst he is lovely, if this is going to anywhere it will yet again be me tugging on the reins. I had told Miss Chocolate that Mr. Coffee was due to be out tonight, weather it was in attendance at the same establishment or not was another thing entirely. Apparently this had given Miss Chocolate a spiffing idea to text my undying yurn for him and also a voice mail message too.
As we yet again approached the bar, a man started coming onto us. To his dismay Miss Chocolate and I pulled out our favourite one-liner saved especially for creeps like him and told him that we were lesbians out on a les-only-bender (no pun intended). Graciously he still bought us a drink though, but continued to pester us all night, probably in the hope of watching some girl on girl action. While slowly getting more and more drunk I decided that as he had not responded (no surprise) that I should pursue other avenues of interest. Then, just as I was explaining my plot the most incredible, fairy book man appeared glowing through the dry ice and the coloured lights. All four points I look for in a man were checked off. Shoes: Made of leather, slightly pointed and modern. Eyes: Deep chestnut brown and protected by some practical geeky specs. Teeth: Shiny white and squeaky clean. Hair: Strawberry blonde in a roughed up style, something I was itching to run my fingers through. All four points is a rare find, but then add on top the fact that he was wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers, accompanied by a matching waistcoat. A black tie gently finished off the combination along with a tie pin. I mean who wears them. No one, unless your like a proper nice 'take-me-home-to-mummy-and-daddy' kinda guy. Accompanying his attire was a white handkerchief tucked neatly into the pocket of his waistcoat. Not a piece of white paper carefully folded to pretend, nor a natty napkin from the local chippy. A proper gentleman's handkerchief. I froze. This was it! Yasmin sensed I was on the prowl and promptly said to go and get him, and like a sexy lioness I stalked over to my prey. The intention was that if I had big enough balls to wear this dress and come out of the house with my hair half curled then why the hell not. As I approached my victim I mentioned how I liked his waistcoat and he fondly admired my dress and touched my hair whilst commenting on its prettiness. At this point I nearly lost it and ravished him right there and then, but I played it cool. We chatted and he mentioned how he looked similar to a posh billionaire whom I know of. I agreed and before I had a chance to shut my mouth the alcohol explained how I had a massive crush on him. Best move ever! After conversing for a substantial time we headed off in separate directions to find yet again more beverages. I returned to Miss Chocolate to find her smiling ear to ear, almost splitting her face in half. She and I both knew that the chase was on!
We tried to keep track of Mr.Waistcoat and his poshly clad entourage but it was getting harder as the club got busier. Miss Chocolate and I kept and eye out for him and she would always push me in his direction. I would always gracefully return the favour whenever I saw Miss Chocolate's 'Type', however she seemed to be more Gazelle than Lioness when it came down to it and would sprint for the nearest hideout. After a while I got bored of trying with Mr. Waistcoat and pursued someone that was more easily seduced. It didn't take long to lure someone in and we started to attempt idle small talk on a crowded dance floor surrounded by revellers and banging tunes. Before long we were having a soft make-out session and I must say that whilst his face was a tad bristly, he wasn't a bad kisser. I yet again tired of him and moved out again towards Miss Chocolate was seated sipping on a straight Cola as she was driving. It was getting late and I had not yet found a meal to take home. Now I know this sounds like I'm a bit of a Harlequin and all but the thing is all women do it. We all look for a guy when were out to make a move on or to tempt him over to us and buy us a drink or just say 'Hi'. Difference is I'm brave enough to talk about it openly. If a man did it - which they do - it would be seen as normal and probably given a high-five approval. Just because Ive got mammary glands doesn't mean I cant go on the prowl for fresh meat!
Mr. Waistcoat was nowhere to be found, Mr. Coffee wasn't responding, and I had gotten bored with Mr. Bumfuzz. I approached my final target, intent on making this one count. I had seen him around before and smiled and said 'Hey' a few times but now I made my move. Yet again I opened with my full-proof, undefeated line. Hook. Line. Sinker. As we started dancing he softly stroked my left arm as we swayed against the music and lights. It sounds creepy but was actually very sensual. Again another nice young man. That was until I went to touch his arm, but as I went to affectionately return the stroking favour, our hands accidentally bumped into one another. Now usually this wouldn't be an issue, especially maybe in the sort of situation, however it is not usual for his hand to be mangled and twisted in such a way that I nearly recoiled in horror. I kept calm though and willed myself not to look down at his gammy hand. Maybe it was just default? Maybe he just had an erection because you were so hot and was trying to expel it by making funny hands? Besides the rest of him wasn't deformed in any way. I mean it wasn't like I was dancing with Quasimodo or anything. He seemed nice and not in the slightest strange. Pushing this thought to the back of my head, I turned to face my fellow sister of Singlesville. Her face changed as she looked at the clock on her phone. Hearing the music slowly die and the lights start to come on I swiftly left Mr. Take-My-Strowng-Hand and made my way to Miss Chocolates side. Only to discover that I had twelve minutes to make it to my train on time. If I didn't make this one, I would have an hour wait until the next one at 4.15am. Like a strong Ox she pulled me away and pushed me into the path of the newly founded Mr. Waistcoat. Intoxicated, I stood there until I was nudged into asking for his number. I cautiously entered the digits one-by-one in the effort not to fluff up one last attempt at hitting on him. Realising I had minutes to spare I said my goodbyes and left, fleeing into the night like Cinderella.
After frantically running to the station I narrowly got on the train before leaving and got home safely. I did however end up throwing up and only managing to reach for my Mothers cherished crystal key bowl on the coffee table. I did a good job of washing up the following morning and I am sure she shall never find out. Disappointingly I didn't see Mr. Coffee but also that I never brought anyone home but maybe that was for the best given my unsettled stomach. On the plus side I have Mr. Waistcoats number and have been talking to him today so we shall see where this one goes, although I don't think it shall go very far, given the circumstances we met upon aren't the most romantical?! We shall have to wait and see ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
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