Monthly Archives: October 2013

Hey, how’s it going? The proper way to answer a friends call.

26 Saturday Oct 2013

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I got a call from an old boyfriend yesterday. I was momentarily tempted not to answer. I could have easily let it go to voice mail, waited a day and return the call, but I figure why delay the conversation.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Here’s the thing. Everyone has caller ID–you know whose calling. Why do folks still answer as if they are clueless to who’s on the other end? It’s kinda silly to answer with the traditional “HELLO”. Here you have a friend calling you, apparently they think enough of you to make contact. The least you can do is let ’em feel the love! Let ‘me know you are happy to hear from them, even if you’re not. It’s the new age, politically correct thing to do.

He’s tickled pink, one that I answered and two, I’ve let him know I know it’s him. He responds with his usual…missing my beauty. When are you coming down to see me, spend time with me?

I’ve been there; I just didn’t want to go through the conversation of why we can’t get back together. The short version; I’ve gotten over how badly you treated me, broke my heart…yes we are friendly, we friends but not close friends by any means. I can forgive, but my heart will not allow me to forget. So naturally we’ll never get back to being intimate or a couple. So I avoid this conversation in order to keep peace and spare us the dreadful. Besides, it’s been a few years…why can’t he let it go?

Now before I say this, don’t type me. It’s purely a coincidence…When I met this guy (let’s call him Al); he’d just gotten his gold detective badge. Yeah, he’s a cop. We literally ran into each other at a Barnes & Noble. I was thumbing through a book I was about to buy, he turn the corner and knocked the book my purse to the floor. We both knelled to retrieve his book my book and purse.

I’m a flight attendant, I’m astute and observant. I know how to see something without letting on.

While we were kneeled awkwardly on the floor I spot his gold badge on his belt. I assumed his gun was under his sport jacket. His dark brown hair was neatly groomed, his shoes were shined, his nails were trimmed and clean. These are the things I look at, they tell me a lot about a man and his smile was warm and inviting. His blue eyes seemed to look through me. I could feel my cheeks getting warm. My first instinct was to gather my purse and run. I knew if I stayed I may be in trouble.

He apologized; I accepted and turned to walk away. I headed to the store’s cafe ordered a hot tea to finish thumbing through the book. A few minutes later he showed up holding a plate with a scone, two forks and cup of tea. He asked if he could sit, share his scone. He introduced himself, omitting the title. We talked for about an hour and I knew at that point I could not run, I had no where to hide.

We chatted regularly by phone, often for an hour or more. He romanced me, I surrendered to him. After a few weeks I took a few days off and flew into town, to spend time with this guy. We were together as a couple for two years. On my first three visits I stayed in a hotel…after that I stayed with him. I often would arrange my flight schedule to be in his city. I’d leave the terminal, head to his home as if it were my home and depart from his house to go to back to the terminal. I had clothes, uniform and a tea cup in his cupboard. It was my home away from home. I juggled a lot to be with him. He told me often how much he loved me. How thankful he was to have my unconditional love. We were happy.

Or so I thought…

Of course I had a key. I’d all but moved to the city. He’d leave his car in the employee parking for my arrival. His car had an employee sticker. I had a set of car keys. He worked long hours and I would shop, prepare dinner and wait. I’d do laundry. Change linen.

Why would I feel I’d need to call?

I’d started the day with a 5:50am flight…the first two legs were great, on time…a storm cell was moving south canceling flights in it’s wake. Our schedule was 2 hours behind when we were able to land in the city where my home away from home was located. My one remaining leg was cancelled. I had the next 3 days off. I left the main terminal through the baggage claim area, hailed a cab heading for my home away from home. I didn’t call, I knew he was at work. I’d shower, change, grocery shop and prepare a great meal.

The cab pulled up. His car was in the driveway, as I expected it to be. I paid the driver, pulled out my key, inserted it in the door knob, opened the door…

There was a trail of clothes. Shoes…shirt…jacket…slacks…skirt…blouse…heels…purse…bra…panties…briefs…loud noises from the bedroom. The door was open. I stood there, wheels (suitcase) still in hand. They were so far into throws of sex they didn’t see me…didn’t hear me…heading out the door, careful not to slam it shut. I walked several blocks, no tears, lacking emotion, in shock. Really, are you fucking kidding me?!! Under normal circumstances, I would have striped and joined them. But, that wasn’t who we were. He’d talked extensively about monogamy, being faithful, trust, being Exclusive. This was what he wanted our relationship to be. He’d heard the stories about flight attendants, pilots on layovers, the mile high adventures. I assured him I wouldn’t be that girl–I’d made a rule long ago, no dipping in company ink…play separate from business. So, I made myself off limits to the ol’ gang…they respected my new found relationship.

I pulled out my cell, called another cab…headed to a hotel on the flight line of the airport. I checked in, headed to my room, called room service, ordered dinner and a bottle of wine–one glass. I showered forever, letting the hot steamy water run over me, as if it were washing away the last two years of my life. I wrapped myself in towels opened the bottle, munched on bread, picked at my dinner while watching the evening news…the storm had arrived…I didn’t give a shit. I fell asleep, in a deep sleep until the cell phone on the night stand woke me…Al. I didn’t answer…half hour later…Al. This went on until I turned the phone off. It was after midnight. A new day…another shower, dried my hair, put on a fresh uniform, headed down stairs, checked out and shuttled to the airport’s crew lounge. Getting home wasn’t a biggie, there was always a dead-head crew heading to my home base.

I’d forgotten that I’d turned my phone off. It was dawn when I stepped off the employee shuttle to my car. I turn the key the motor idled, I turned on my phone…voice mail was full, countless calls from Al. I drove home…

The next day I flew to Jamaica…to meet the ol’ gang. Three days of dancing, topless beaching, sailing, smoking pot & drinking rum…

It would be 9 days before I’d answer his call. I was in San Francisco. He lied at first…then he confessed…he cried…he promised…I said I’d think about it…I tried by visiting two weeks later. I ended the visit by packing my things, giving him the keys to the house and the car. I called a cab and headed to the airport. It was all dignified and adult like. I was hurt…they were his rules–I’d changed for him, but I never told him that. Didn’t think I had to, now it was, too late.

Time passed, I heeled, moved on. It was a time in space that was over, I forgave. He calls we talk…it’s all very friendly…but what’s done is done, that time in space is no more. He knows he fucked up big time. He’s said as much and more…I appreciate that, but like I said; I can forgive…I answer his call; Hey, how’s it going?

It’s my Happy New Year!

20 Sunday Oct 2013

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Today is my Happy New Year…more commonly known as my birthday day. Its the start of another year, a new year, filled with new promises of hope, happiness and resolutions. I usually resolve to do more (not necessarily good) on this day than the actual beginning of a new year. This, to me, seems more poignant than a stoke of midnight the last day of December. If I’m going to resolve to be a better person on the multi-levels of life, today is my special day and certainly has more meaning as I am a year older.

I’m more on point to keep my resolutions and not make foolish unrealistic goals that will fade in a months time. I am a Libra. I am a pragmatic Libra. I don’t have issues, as some do with making decisions. I set goals and go after them. I am, however, a Libra in it’s truest sense when it comes to weighing both sides. I am a sensual, sexual individual who enjoys a vast carnal knowledge. I’m a little different when it comes to who, when and where, it’s a sliding “scale” of the who, with whom and gender. Consenting adults; adults who mutually agree. If its not your cup of tea, I get that. But don’t rain on everyone else’s parade because you don’t get in to it. That I have an issue with. Which, if you think about it, is basically American society. Anything that is different from that is done within secret clubs and although the circle of participants is many, you’d be hard press to stumble upon one of these private places without an invite.

I’m a Libra and i live a double life. There’s the uninhibited me and there’s the lady that conducts business, shops, has lunch and is in mainstream society. I can keep a secret. I am, to this day, a keeper of many peoples secrets. This makes me an asset. And a portion of my resolve for today is to be a better asset.
I have a fairly decent life. I am able to enjoy a lot of things and I hope to continue to create the good karma that has gotten me to this wonderful, sacred plato.

Cheers! To my Happy New Year!

The Chief and the ego

10 Thursday Oct 2013

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What is it about the ego?
ego; a person’s sense of self-esteem or self-importance} That’s the simple version
The deeper meaning: 1. The self, especially as distinct from the world and other selves.
2. In psychoanalysis, the division of the psyche that is conscious, most immediately controls thought
and behavior, and is most in touch with external reality.
3. An exaggerated sense of self-importance; conceit.
The world is filled with those who think more of themselves than they do another. They are compelled and fully committed to self preservation. Some the best cinema thrillers are based on these egos.
I dated a guy…no, no, you can’t date a married man! He was a danger to others because he knew how to manipulate and convince you his words and thought pattern was not about him, but you…it was you he wanted to center his attention upon. This scenario requires anatomy. I tell it for my own therapeutic reasons. He thought I was dumb to his manipulations, or so he thought. It does prove that an egotistical person can be so self involved that he never saw it coming…it hit him, it hit him hard. He was a sex maniac. He would screw anything moving. He didn’t have a type–female. He would confided to me that he had enjoyed fellatio with a man. His only limit was going all the way with a guy. Really?! .
I met him by incident, the tennis court. You know how you see a person, think you know them from somewhere, yet can’t place the face. I pride myself in remembering faces, it was an asset when I was flying. I was introduced to him by a tennis pro, while he was taking a private clinic. I was polite, moved on, didn’t give it another thought. This was about the time the admiral and his wife were in full swing (literally) and were about to introduce me to one of their CEO friends from the northwest. A great weekend at their farm was a few days away, so this familiar face was the farthest thing from my mind.
Yes, yes, I’ll get to that weekend eventually…
Three months later I was leaving a fun match, walking mindlessly through the complex, heading to my car, when I heard my name. I turned to see this guy and right away I recognized him. I spoke but didn’t stop walking. The next thing I knew, he was walking beside my at my pace. The conversation was pleasant, but I did notice that he assumed that I remembered his name…knew who he was as he commenced to ask me out–well, actually to his office. Your office?? Why would I want to come to your office? In that split second, it came to me who he was and where his office was located. I saw him on the evening news a couple of years ago being sworn in as the chief of police for the adjoining city. I was curious…but declined his invitation and walked away.
It was the middle of December, my cell rang, I didn’t know the number, but I knew it was a municipal number for the adjoining city. I declined to answer, sending it to my voicemail. It was the chief, wanting to have lunch, wanting to talk about a business matter. Good grief! I waited two days and returned his call. We arranged lunch for the next day in his city. He showed twenty-five minutes late, I had ordered and was in the midst of eating. He was visibility upset that I hadn’t waited and verbally scolded me. Egomaniac! He’s use to being in charge and is clueless on how to separate it his uniform, which he loved to wear, from his civilian life. My ego got the best of me and right then and there I decided he needed a few lessons.I’m not married, mind you, but I do wear a set of diamond rings stacked on the wedding finger, so it’s easy to assume that I’m married. I don’t wear jewelry when I play tennis, but at lunch of course I’m wearing my jewelry. He spotted the rings and I just knew his penis got hard as a rock. He was turned on that I was married. He never asked…he did assume and I let him think just that.
I didn’t know that much about him, so I Goggled him. Holy shit! He’s married with two teenage children at home. He’d virtually loss his last position due to an investigation, the position before that he was on the cusp but left before he was let go and before that he was a federal agent…not sure what happened there, but I later learned he left under unfriendly terms. It was clear this guy’s ego was bigger than life and I may be getting in over my head…the married thing bothered me…it bothered me more when he told me about his last girlfriend, but he’s never felt this strongly for any woman…I said to myself, not even your wife?
He continued to call during the holidays. He wanted to know my address so he could send me flowers for Christmas. I thanked him for the thought but no way was I giving this married chief of police the location of my sanctuary. I told him I was going away for a few days and they would go to waste in an empty place. He wanted to know where was I going…I was heading out of town to the admiral and his wife’s farmhouse for the new year. But it was none of his business. He wanted me to call him while I was gone. He called me 4 times New Year’s Eve and 3 times New Year’s day. He call several times while I was driving back from the farm…answering his call was like giving in to his ego. I had a plan and it was going to be the end of this egotistical chief. And wouldn’t you know it, he was all in, to meet me in Atlanta. He assumed he was going to stay with me at my hotel, but I’m sorry I don’t pay for men to stay in hotels with me. I told him where I was staying and he could pay for the room. He took it upon myself to find a cheap motel and told me that I was staying with him. Really? This created an argument as he began to rant and stomp throwing a temper tantrum. I was silent while this played out on his end. When he stopped I said to him, I will pick you pick at 10 pm at your hotel, you are actually staying in an area that is on the way to the club. I will not wait, I not park out front, be there when I pull up or I will keep going.
We were going, or should I say I was going to a sex club. A premier, first class place, collared shirts & jackets required, no denim allowed with a hefty admission for men…single men. This was the lure, he had taken the bait, the married chief was going to a sex club…I had no plans of having sex with guy. Consenting couples yes. But this guy was a maniac. There are bodyguards in the club and the first rule is no means no. Violate this rule and you’re out on your ass. I knew his concept of the night was completely different from mine. It was going to be fun to see how his ego would handle all the naked ass, the open acts of sex, the lurid dancing and the electric atmosphere. Of course he called me several times trying to convince me to visit him at his hotel. I got a call from the concierge about a man at the front desk saying he was my brother and wanted to surprise me. I told them no he wasn’t my brother. I was told later by the valet guys that he’d flashed his badge wanting to know what kind of rental car I was driving. I finally called him and told him to stop or wasn’t taking him anywhere with me.
When I rolled up to his motel he wasn’t standing out front…I began to drive through with no intent or attempt to park when I heard a voice yell my name. I stopped he ran to the car, breathless holding a small duffle bag he opened the door and attempted to chastise me for not waiting. I ignored his rant and said, what’s with the bag? His overnight stuff. He was coming back to my hotel with me when we left the club. Really? I didn’t say a word…he smiled. When we pulled up to the club, I gave the valet a twenty and told him to take the bag on the back seat out and hold it at the valet stand, please. He glanced at the chief over my shoulder and said okay. Once inside the lobby I told him he would need to show his driver’s license, they would run a scan. I was allowing him to go in on my membership card but we would not go in as a couple, meaning he would not get a wrist band that coupled men wore. I was saving him a lot of money and he would have the time of his life. He tried to get the guy to give him a wrist band when I went to check my bottle of wine…the hostess came over to ask if he was my “other” to which I replied no. We walked in the door, his jaw dropped, got distracted and I slipped away. There are several areas to this place, some of the areas don’t allow single men and I stuck to these areas for most the night. Around 2 am I was ready to go, I looked for him, didn’t see him. I walked through the lobby where I saw the valet guy, who told me he had come out with two young ladies and wanted someone to get his bag from my car. The valet smiled and said; you had his number, you should have seen the look on his face when I reached under the podium and handed him his bag. He wanted to go back inside to find me, but was told he’d have to pay again in order to do that.
He didn’t call the next day, nor the days to follow. I heard many stories of the women he was with at different places, I also heard that he liked having sex in his SUV. A year or so later I saw on the news where he was forced to retire and later learned that he was working out of the country for the DOJ, fell ill while in South America and almost died had to be medi-vac back to the states. I wonder if the near death experience helped him, helped his ego.

Coulda, Woulda, Should have

09 Wednesday Oct 2013

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For the life of me I’ve been trying to think of something satisfying about being dissapointed. So I hit the books (internet) and found a bevy of quotes that are suppose to make me feel better. 

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”

“Success is stumbling from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.”

~Winston Churchill

“Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail…”

“It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.”

~Thomas Jefferson

 

Did I feel better?  A little.  I’m a competitive person, thus I play league tennis. I’ve loss before, but I felt this time I could have done more…could have been better…should have acted on a strategy and not having done so we loss our match in a third set tie break.  My coach was kind, but I could see on his face that he also felt I should have done more.  No excesses, but it was hot as hell…It’s October for heaven’s sake!  Ninety-three degree temperatures with no breeze are unbearable, especially after a week or more of temps in the seventies.  Yes, I’ve been bummed, lie in bed bummed, trying to convince myself that although I loss, this was a great experience.  Then at 3 this morning, after finding the above quotes, it hit me.  I’m going to be a better player, a smarter player for having had this loss and the way it all played out has made me stronger.  TJ said it best, “…never to have tried…”  I know many people who sit around bitch, moan and complain about any and everything. Yet, all they do is sit.  You have to be pro active in order to achieve….

 

ShowTime!!

04 Friday Oct 2013

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Heading off to Sectionals early in the morning. The competition will be formidable. WE (team) are ready and hope to be victorious…win this weekend takes us to AZ in the spring. It’s an exciting time!!
 
And when the weekend is all said and done. Sunday night is the premier of Master of Sex. It’s about the couple who spurned the sexual revolution of the sixties. I’ve read the book, read the karmasutra, read Henry and June. All great reads, informative, educational, but a series on the couple who broke all the barriers, made it okay for women to masturbate…no more hysteria for the lonely spinster.
 
I’m not your average American female. Sex isn’t a dirty word. It’s a word…it describes an gender an action of two people. And if I had more time, I’d go into great detail, but I’ve got a list of things to do and folks to meet for drinks and dinner, not to mention a pre dawn Saturday morning…TGIF!!  Enjoy ShowTimes Master of Sex. And ladies open your mind, let go and enjoy!! 

A familiar place, fond memories

03 Thursday Oct 2013

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It’s been a fast week, already past hump day, heading into Friday. Thursdays are like a lull. You’re over the hump but not quite at the end, one more day ’til is a done week.
 
Tennis was great, yesterday. It may be call lunch league, not as point ranking as USTA League, but competitive just the same. The ladies often car pool when we’re visiting an away club. This in itself is very friendly, easy going, not big deal if you’re a minute late, unlike USTA League in which time is of the essence. We arrive, full of laughter, meeting and greeting those we know and those we just meet. The lunch menu is presented and we gleefully decide on what to eat after the matches, thus “Lunch League”. It’s all so friendly, until the first toss for the initial serve into the opponents court. Things change, the air cools, the smiles dissipate. We get down to business as our reputations are at stake, our clubs name is on the line and we must win all courts to return home as victors.  After tennis, things return to normal, so to speak…those who have loss are somewhat dumb struck and somewhat silent…it’s amazing that we can even call this fun tennis, but we manage to do so and are gracious winners, complimenting our host on a wonder meal, being such great players and thank you for your wonderful hospitality…until we meet again, at which point we gather to our appointed vehicles and head home. Yes, it was a great day we won all 5 courts in flying colors…who do we play next week?
 
I on the other hand having been a bit more of a rover, not having lived in a box, so to speak, was familiar with the area that the country club was located. I had been to a home on the water in the neighborhood several years ago to a party.  It was a “key party” a private gathering of liked minded couples and single ladies.  The property of the house was gated, very private, pool, pool house, all of the amenities one would expect for the neighborhood.  Men dressed in slacks and polo shirts. Women dressed in low cut, back out, no bra sundress and commando (if you get my drift).  The music is piped throughout the house by a very talented DJ. As the booze flowed the evening heated to a roaring fire. People swimming, lounging by the pool, hanging around laughing and chatted about carnal events and adventures. Wondering who’ll get to go home with whom.  Most had already secured a motel room with ice and libations awaiting. But the keys were the prelude of the evening. Upon entering the house, earlier in the evening, each person was required to put a key they’d received with their invitation into a pre printed envelope and drop this envelope into the slot of the locked box sitting on a table. Some would be host and others would be guest. The host would blindly select an envelope and the guest would be their fun for the night. On this particular evening I was chosen by a couple who would prove to be a lot of fun, because I was the lucky guest of the owners of the house.  As the others began to group off as the keys were selected, mulling their way to the door, I wandered to the back, out by the pool and removed the only piece of clothing I had on, my sun dress, and sauntered into the pool. The water was luke temp, but my nipples were made to stand erect, not so much because of the water, but probably excited for my good fortune.  She was a large woman, but very well groomed, he was tall with piercing blue eyes, salt and pepper hair and was well endowed.  We played in the water for a while, she liked to watch and she did as he had his way with my breast, his long fingers sliding in and out of my wet vagina, I was ready and wanted him…his wife joined us, going down on him while he played with my ever so wet clean shaven lips. My fingers found her soft plump breast and gave each of them the attention they deserved.  Then she pulled out this large penis looking dildo, turned it on and inserted it into her vagina. She moaned with delight and told her husband to enter me…as he did, she began to give him direction on how fast to slide his warm very firm cock in and out of my wet vagina. My clit was hard and wanted to be touched, I tried to reach for it, but she moved over, pushed my hand away and she began to rub it for me, the 3 of us exploded at the same time….the night was far from over.
 
Isn’t is nice when you don’t live in a box, go to a place and have such fond memories?