One possible version of a baby T-shirt/ rompersuit design.
Technorati tag: Spinneyhead
One possible version of a baby T-shirt/ rompersuit design.
Technorati tag: Spinneyhead
When I first saw you
Something stirred within me
You were standing sultry in the rain
If I could’ve held you
I would’ve held you
Rip it up and start again
Rip it up and start again
Rip it up and start again
I hope to God you’re not as dumb as you make out
I hope to God
I hope to God
(Also, Rip It Up and Start Again, all about the Post Punk movement.)
Neil and I have started bar billiards sessions after work on Tuesdays, whilst he’s waiting for a booty call and I’m not because Sue has to work late. We play for Minstrels. The only problem is that I keep eating my winnings.
Things aren’t perfect with the doggy shrink, it seems. I’ve only been getting laid again for a couple of weeks and everyone’s talking at me about relationships.
The problem is Neil’s ex, Ursula. They’ve managed to become friends, after an initial rough patch. In fact they might be talking more now than in the last few months of their relationship. This is freaking Helen, the pet psychologist, out. “She thinks that me and Ursula might get back together. She says she’s intimidated by our history.”
“You and Ursula were together for, what, three years?”
“And you’ve only been going out for a couple of months. It takes a while to build up a bank of memories.”
“That’s what I told her.”
“Maybe you should suggest doing something neither of you’s done before. Create your own unique memories.”
“Like anal sex?” He times these things, I just know it. I knocked over the black pin and lost all my points. That’s twenty Minstrels gone.
“I was thinking of a weekend in Paris, but there is that.” I waited until he’d lined up his shot before adding, “I guess it’s too early for you to suggest a threesome with her best friend.”
My timing’s not so good. He stopped the shot, looked up and gave a little grin. “You didn’t?” The boy should be an actor, I really don’t know if he was taking the piss or not.
More Than Words
More Than Words, by Extreme, is the “If you loved me you’d swallow” song.
But everyone looks at me strangely when I suggest that. Is it possible I’ve misinterpreted the lyrics?
Posted by Jim at 21:53
Sue has a half day most Wednesdays, to compensate for the length of Tuesday. I got out of work as early as possible and went round to her flat.
We’ve christened the living room and bedroom of the flat, several times over, and we’re going to start on the rooms in my house as soon as her period’s over. (Except the kitchens. By mutual consent we’ve decided that may be unsanitary.)
People are complaining they don’t see me any more. I don’t care. But just to appease them I’m going to put in an appearance at the big get together on Saturday. “Can I come?” was Sue’s first question when I mentioned this.
“Of course. I think the main reason they’re on at me about it is that everyone wants to meet you.”
“To see if I’m good enough for you?”
“To tell you terrible stories about my past antics, more like. Some of them aren’t true.”
“I bet.” She had curled up on the sofa, using my lap as a pillow.
She’s awfully skinny, when she’s undressed I can see her ribs. But she eats everything I put in front of her. I think it’s partly a metabolism thing, but I have noticed that she seems to underestimate serving sizes. As I always overestimate them perhaps we’ll meet in the middle- I’ll lose a little weight and she’ll put some on.
“Oh.” Sue stirred. “It’s my works Christmas do on Friday. I’ll still come out on Saturday, but it’s a free bar, so I might be a bit delicate.” I stroked, her ear. She made a happy little noise. “Do that again.”
I moved her hair aside and stroked her neck and jawline and what I could get at of her collarbone and she just lay there with the loveliest little smile. She seems to be sensitive all over to gentle stroking, and we’ve been finding the particularly sensitive bits over the last few days whilst we can’t go penetrative. I told her about my conversation with Neil. She was amused by the different interpretations of doing something new. “Have you ever done it?” she asked.
“Been to Paris?”
“You know what I mean. Hold on a sec.” She sat up and pulled her top off, then rearranged herself across the sofa.
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve mentioned it. Don’t think I’ve ever suggested it. I’ve never done it.”
“I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve fantasised about it. Just there. No, down a little. There, yes, that’s nice. But I’ve never done it.”
The obvious question nearly didn’t make it out of my mouth. “Would you like to?”
She didn’t answer, just smiled and flushed, bit her lip and went tense. After a while, when she’d come down, she pulled me down to kiss, then shifted, unzipped my trousers and reached in. I didn’t care whether that was a yes or a no.
At two in the morning I woke to a blue glow. Sue was sat up in bed, wearing my dressing gown for warmth, tapping the stylus against the screen of the PDA/phone thing she has. “Whussup?” she jumped.
“I thought you were asleep. You were snoring. I just thought of something. I had to email myself it so I won’t forget.”
Bless her little cotton panties, she’s a geek. She’ll fit into the Friendborg with no worries.
Brown Paper Parcel
Whilst checking my Amazon affiliate reports I found that some of you have been ordering very naughty products. I have my suspicions, but discretion is my middle name. You’ll be pleased to know it’s been despatched and you should get it tomorrow.
Posted by Jim at 12:35pm
Mostly, my friends forget to go through my blog when ordering stuff from Amazon. So it’s probably a stranger who clicked through and ordered The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women.
It just seems like such a coincidence after Neil brought the subject up. Helen and he are coming out on Saturday, and I’m not going to be able to look at them without wondering if they’ll be getting all Last Tango In Paris at some point.
Friday night in
It seems everyone else is having their work’s Christmas party tonight. So I’m all alone with nothing to do.
It’s wrong to get drunk on your own isn’t it?
Posted by Jim at 20:57
I got a phone call at about half past ten. A little voice, slightly slurred, with music in the background. “Can I come back to your place tonight?”
“Of course you can. You know the address?”
“I think so. Hold on. Tell me anyway and I’ll write it down.”
I gave her the address, and the name of the street it’s off. And the name of the street that’s off. “It won’t be until late.” she warned, “Maybe after one.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got films to watch.”
The doorbell rang at half past one. I bounced down the stairs, struggled with the locks and flung the door open.
The woman on the doorstep was not Sue. She was the same height, but twice as wide and probably twice the age. “Are you James?”
She reached behind the bush by the door and pulled a little figure out of hiding. “Does this belong to you?”
Sue’s drunken smile was infectious. She tumbled forward and wrapped herself around me. “I guess it does. Do I have to sign for it?”
Sue was talking into my chest. “Pardon?”
She looked up. “I told her to say that. Did you like the joke?”
“Free bar.” her chauffeur explained as Sue let me go to give her a hug. “Last year I had to put her to bed.”
“Thanks for the lift Mary. I’ll see you on Monday. I’ll be sober then. I hope.” I grasped her coat collar as she let go and tried to stand up straight.
“Lots of water.” Mary suggested to me.
“And paracetamol in the morning.” I steered Sue into the house. “Let’s get you to bed.” I waved a goodbye and kicked the door closed.
“I don’t like Christmas.” Sue announced halfway up the stairs. She tried to turn and give me another hug. “But I do like you. Can I keep you?”
“Of course you can. But first you can come upstairs to bed.”
For such a little thing she’s awfully hard to steer. She veered off into the bathroom and headed for the toilet. I decided to close the door on that and hope she could cope without me. I went for the promised water.
I filled a pint glass, then had visions of it tipping all over the floor. There was a sports bottle by the sink that seemed a more prudent choice.
She was in the bedroom, struggling with the buttons on her blouse. “Did you flush?”
“Yellow is mellow. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Here, you take this and I’ll help you with that. No, no. You drink the water, I’ll undress you.” That raised a giggle, but she did as she was told. The cap on the bottle befuddled her for a moment until she realised how to pull it open.
She was wearing a bra, which was something I hadn’t seen before. I helped her juggle bottle, bra and blouse until she was topless, then sat her down and went to work on her shoes and jeans. Undressing a giggling drunk girl was turning me on more than I’d have expected. Sue noticed this when I stood up. “Oooh, a present for me to unwrap.” She grabbed my belt and pulled herself into a kneel before me.
“I thought you didn’t like Christmas.” Somehow her co-ordination was back now she was unfastening me.
“But I do like you. I told you. This is a present for waiting up for me.” With my pants around my ankles and her lips around me it would have been uncouth to refuse such a gift.
“I like the way you go all trembly just before you come.” she told me afterwards, stroking my thighs whilst I still stood over her. I loved the way she swallowed and then licked me clean so no dribble escaped. “I’ve got another present for you tomorrow. Cold now.” She pulled the covers about herself and grinned as she watched me strip.
Sue didn’t want to sleep, poking my shoulder and playing with my chest hair. Maybe my semen had sobered her up. “Why don’t you like Christmas?” I asked to distract her.
“You don’t get on with them?”
“The rest of the time, yes. Well, apart from my step-sister. It’s just that it gets competitive at Christmas. Mum and her new husband want me to spend it with them, Dad and his new wife with them. So I spend it on my own. I don’t want to be part of their game.”
I considered this for a moment, stopped the roaming finger by grabbing it and kissing it. “Why not spend this Christmas with me and my family?”
It seems I’m too hot. I cuddle up to Sue during the night, but my body heat’s too much for her. More often than not she sneaks away from me to cool down. Usually, though, a little hand will find its way back to hold mine.
But on Saturday morning I woke to find her wrapped around me, all sweet and cuddly. I found her arm and kissed the inside of her wrist. She liked that, so I kissed up her arm to the inside of her elbow. She liked that even more.
“Make me tea.” she demanded now she was awake.
“Did I give you a blow job last night?”
“Yucky taste in my mouth.” Sue made spitting noises until I started pouring some tea.
“That’s more likely the free beer.”
“Go away. Anyway, they didn’t have any decent beer. I was on rum and stuff all night.” She struggled with the cap on the paracetamol, gave up and handed it to me.
“That would explain all the talking like a pirate. Here.”
She washed the painkillers down with tea. “Did I mention my family?”
“You explained why you don’t like Christmas, yes.”
“You asked me to spend it with you?”
“Did I say yes?”
“You didn’t say anything. You started telling me why your step-sister is a complete bitch and then you fell asleep halfway through a sentence.”
“Then you started talking in your sleep. I thought you’d woken up until I realised you weren’t using real words.”
“I do that, so I’m told.”
“Allegedly I snore.”
“Allegedly my arse. You probably wake people five doors down.” Sue studied her blouse, deciding whether to wear it again. “I’ve spent Christmas by myself since my last year of Uni. I’ve got sort of traditions. I roast a chicken, drink a bottle of wine and heckle the Queen.”
“Sounds like a normal Christmas. Though we don’t watch Queenie any more.”
“Won’t your parents mind? It’s a bit late in the year to land them with a Christmas guest.”
“Oh they won’t mind really.” We have a family history of taking in waifs and strays. The shock might be landing on them with a girlfriend. I’ve told my mother I’m ‘seeing’ someone. I think she understands the euphemism.
Sue still didn’t look convinced. I selected a T-shirt from the clean pile and handed it to her. “It’s just an idea. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll grab a banana and head home. I need to sort some stuff out for tonight.”
We met in Rain. Sue had insisted we make our own ways there. Neil, Helen and Ursula were already there. That didn’t seem like a good combination. I decided to arm myself with Moonraker and try to mediate.
Moonraker’s an odd beer. I can understand how so many people don’t like it, but I’m fond of its thick, sickly taste. It’s also over 8%, so when you order your first of the night the bar staff always give you a look and say “You do know it’s over eight percent don’t you.”
“Of course I do. That’s why I drink it.”
Reinforcements arrived whilst my beer was being pulled. Steve’s always fancied Ursula, I didn’t even need to engineer a reason for him to join the conversation. Bert joined in just to confound him.
Before I’d finished my first pint there were fifteen of us. No Sue, though. I was beginning to worry that I’d been stood up. But she was just waiting to make an entrance.
I admit, I didn’t recognise her at first. I didn’t even know she possessed any dresses. It was dark blue and came to just below her knees. She sort of slinked out of her long coat and draped it over her arm as she approached.
I admit it, I stared. People seemed to notice this and one by one turn to follow my gaze, because I swear the room went silent as she approached. She dropped the coat at my feet, wrapped both arms around my neck and pulled me down to kiss her.
There might have been applause. There was definitely a cry of “Get a room!” When we came up for air she was the most flushed I’ve seen her outside the bedroom. She pulled my head down to whisper in my ear, “I wanted to make a good impression.”
“I think you did that.” I kissed her neck, then her ear, then the top of her head. I wanted to kiss her all over, but I wasn’t going to get the chance. “You’re about to get the inquisition.”
“Oh dear. Oh, and I would love to spend Christmas with you.”
I didn’t know what to say, but Ursula arrived before it became obvious. “You must be Sue. I’m Ursula. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“No she hasn’t. Deny everything. Unless it makes me look good, of course.” My glass was empty. I wagged it at Sue and she nodded, mouthing the words “non-alcoholic”.
I’m a bad man. After handing over her J2O I abandoned her. Helen was looking lost. Neil had drifted into a conversation about processor speeds with Bert and she wasn’t deeply enough assimilated to join in the inquisition of Sue. I wandered over. “Hey. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” she gestured at Sue “It’s scary, all those people wanting to know about you.”
“I guess it is.” Helen had first met the FriendBorg whilst drinking in the Students’ Union. I’m not sure she’s fully recovered.
She remembered something that made her smile. “Thanks, by the way.”
“You suggested to Neil that we should do something special. What was it? Create our own history.”
I managed not to drop my pint. “Really?”
“Yeah. He’s taking me to Paris next month.”
I just nodded and took a gulp of beer. I didn’t know what to say just yet, because ‘take me to Paris’ sounds like rhyming slang for ‘take me up the arse’, which is what I’d been thinking.
“She looks….. gorgeous.” Helen indicated Sue, rescuing me.
“Yes, she does, doesn’t she. I’ve never seen her in a dress before.” Two things were beginning to dawn on me. That Sue really wanted to impress my friends and that I was in love with her. I caught her eye and smiled at her. “I have to go and hug her now.”
It wasn’t one of our heavier nights, but it was still gone eleven when we sneaked away. We managed to grab a taxi after walking a wee way in the right direction and away from the crowds, and tried not to get too steamy on the back seat. We didn’t crash, so I guess we weren’t doing anything the driver wanted to watch.
“I have another present for you.” Sue announced as I locked the door. “Time to unwrap it.”
I turned to find her pushing her knickers down her legs. She stepped out of them and lifted the front of her dress. Her grin was all the more sexy because she seemed on the edge of uncontrollable laughter. She backed toward the bean bag as I approached. “I went to the doctor and had him put me on the Pill. Your present is me- any time, any place, anywhere. Starting right here, on the bean bag.”
I never did find out who bought The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women. I don’t really care.
Notes Another jumping off point for the first draft of Post & Publish. Yes there’s a lot of gratuitous sex, but that’s the best type and they’re at the beginning of a relationship when that sort of thing goes on a lot.
Links to all products mentioned have been included because Tim tells me off if I don’t do that sort of thing.
Donate Now I’ve started writing again I’m unlikely to stop, but it would be nice if I could eat during my breaks. So please feel free to donate some money to my starving author fund by clicking on the PayPal button below.
Martin Cassini wants to do away with traffic lights, arguing that it will lead to a reduction in congestion and a magical cut in CO2 production without putting non-motorists at risk. I don’t see it. The last time I was knocked off my bike it was by someone sailing out of a side road with no traffic control. He certainly failed to exercise any of the common sense that would be required to make this scheme work, and we all see several examples of such idiocy every day.
I remember reading about studies that had shown a reduction in congestion when certain through roads were closed. Probably fewer people wasted time trying to find rat runs and then filtering back in further along the same road. I’d like to see a motoring journalist call for that, or anything that encouraged people to get out of their cars and onto foot for short (<2 miles) and bike for medium (<5-10 miles) journeys.
Watching the people get lairy
It’s not very pretty I tell thee
Walking through town is quite scary
And not very sensible either
A friend of a friend he got beaten
He looked the wrong way at a policeman
Would never have happened to Smeaton
And old Leodiensian
La-ah-ah, la la lalala la
Ah-ah-ah, la la lalala la
Kaiser Chiefs – I Predict A Riot
American industry groups are calling on George Bush to introduce mandatory emission standards in his State of the Union address. He’s not going to, but the sentiment is appreciated.
Australians take to their bikes.
2012 Olympics to be the "greenest ever".
Tony Blair takes the credit.
Beachcomber pictures. Locals scavenge what they can from the wreck of the MSC Napoli. It’s like Whisky Galore, only with Pampers.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/6288845.stm “Barrels of wine, shoes, hair care products, beauty cream, steering wheels, exhaust pipes, gearboxes, nappies, foreign language bibles and BMW motorbikes have all been washed up on the pebbled beach.”
Smuggler’s Britain. Branscombe used to be a popular beach for landing smuggled goods.
Can you keep what you find on the beach? (No, you’ve got to report it and you may then get a reward.)
Does anyone really believe the supermarkets talk of going Green? Much like George Monbiot, I’m convinced it’s all PR and the very nature of their business makes them unsustainable.