My pits were fine, but my apartment was a mess. I had to begin with the bedside table; it speaks volumes about who you are. It’s like your smell or your choice of shoes. I rearranged my bedside table book arrangement, putting the French soapbox filled with condoms to the top of the stack. Some might check the book titles for anything scary: “Father Hunger” “Overcoming Overeating” “The Needy & Greedy” and be quick to shove them in the sock drawer. But since I’m frighteningly open, I leave them on display. A vase with Gerber Daisy’s, a carafe of drinking water, my eye mask, and the pill were now somehow orderly. Dusting won’t hurt. After fabreezing my bed linens, including all the pillows cause who knows which one he’ll end up using, and placing clean towels in the bathroom, I took out the trash. Then I was naked, cleaning my apartment, pre third date. I hadn’t decided what to wear, but I knew I wouldn’t invite him in unless the place was representative of the me you all know and love. It had to at least be tidy.

Random bits of mail were shoved in a bag, DVDs in their sleeves, fcuking music with the touch of a button. Fresh cut flowers arranged in the living room, beside the bed, and yes, even in a Tiffany’s tissue vase in the bathroom beside the matches. I was ready for a sleepover. Well almost. I was running late.

Late meant Frizz Ease and a hair clip. It meant one eye shadow, no time for contouring a duo. It meant brushing my teeth and washing my puss puss. There was no time for a shower and full make-up; see there’s an attitude to being put together in a hurry. It’s a good one. All women should know how to do this. Fabreeze, fresh flowers, Frizz Ease, a quick vagina cleaning, some seexy unmentionables, and you’re ready. Okay, some gloss out the door. Oh, yeah, perfume, but how French whore… I’ll skip it. Okay, I’ll add a little.

It was all for nothing. Okay, not all. See, he reads my blog daily, and says the stories in person are better because, “you smell better than your stories online.” So thankful to the designer of Creed. Loving the last minute sprtiz. “He showed such restraint, particularly when faced with $300 perfume quite literally made for a queen.” Says Yasmin. Sadly, he walked me home, offering me his arm, and when we turned corners, he ensured he was on the outside, near the curb. Sadly, because he was a gentleman. Kissing him was delicious. I wanted to hold onto it, have it last for more than the scant dusting of moments it did. But asking him up seemed cheap, cause I was with a gentleman now. It’s hard to really fcuk a gentleman. Now I want to know him, really, and his schedule is so busy, and I need to be patient, and inviting him up felt too “this will never last.” So now I’m at home with a clean crotch, flowers by the bed, and the best made bed in town. I have to wait another week to see him. I better keep the place clean. Linus, do you hear that?



  1. its always better to be prepared then not. im sure he can appreciate your effort, even if he only gets to read about it this week… the lucky bastard! im jealous :)

  2. I love this line, "…a quick vagina cleaning, some sexy unmentionables…"

    After the vagina speak, I think we can handle whatever the unmentionables are. :-)

  3. Being a gentleman is only a beginning stage…it is safe, it let's the woman know that when shit goes down, he'll be there not always just wanting to fuck, but wanting to be a friend too. Being a "bad boy" is only reserved for those who need a great spanking (and I believe in my heart the author does need and want many). Don't let the curbside manner fool ya into thinking sheet and pillowcase time would ever be a bore…quite the opposite when the man does not care which pillow is his…just cares which one smells best to you when it is your nose buried deep in it while he…

    He's home now…Vegas was a bore without ya…ruinied his time actually because all he could see was fire…not from the sun tanning the skin…but the fire he one day hopes to smell deeply as she walks by on the way to the kitchen to fetch them a glass of wine and water…hurry back to bed…

  4. Oh yes…vy the way…jeans and a t-shirt will do it everytime. If he had only known when he hugged you, feeling your taught sides fit so well in his hands that there were things not to be mentioned underneath it all.

    The purfume was devine…instinctually he nibbled every inch between neckline and earlobe…just to savor…thank God when he looked back as she drove away that they locked eyes one last time before he realized that he was walking in the opposite direction from where he needed to go…home…

    If she really knew the affect she's had…

    Okay…he's done because he knows this is public…even if she did not respond to his messages while he laid in Treasure Isle lounge chairs sipping Tiki cups full of LI Tea…it hurt actually…he does not expect another hello…but even if she does never call…it was worth the fish and glass of wine…

    Wow…come home…

  5. Apologies for the duplicate (gosh I know how she despises typos)…I'm new…heard about this site from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend that I've never met but feel I've known the whole time…whole time meaning lifetime…

    Blah blah blah…show 'em my mah-toe!

    "A passing breeze whispers a joke…magnolia blossoms shake with laughter…"

  6. when you look into those telling eyes and lost in the endless locks of burning red, you'll understand that this effort means something.

    Dude – pull your head out of your ass, If Stepahanie puts this up – there's something here. Well actually over there.

    She might be reserved in ways she may not even understand. She is. She appears to be bold and low maintenance. She's not.

    She's worth it.

    Ask her what pillow she wants. Be nice to Linus.

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