Observant Musing-Curious Things

I’ve had a bit of time on my hands this week, and thus the reason for so many posts! I should be out living a life, but this week I didn’t have much of one. I certainly hope next week proves more profitable- not in the monetary sense I mean that's ok too, but in the Cha-Ching of life sense. Weeks like this leave me to my thoughts, and when I get to thinking watch out- some freaky stuff gets envisioned in my head, and is sometimes tested out (for authenticity), and then written down, and then posted, and then read and commented on (that’s where you come in), etc. etc.

A couple of interesting/curious things did happen this week that made me 1)ask myself "Why" and 2) Say, "Damn!" Let me explain: 1) I went on a site visit this week. Now, as I have commented on before, in my field, I rarely see good looking black men (or other colors of good looking men). Mountain Man was a beautiful exception of which, I have not experienced the likes of again. Poor me. Anyway, I was going to do a site visit for some potential clients.

Low and behold, as I arrived at the site, I was greeted by a rather attractive black man with one notable detraction from his looks. Mr. Man had a silver tooth. Yes, a silver tooth. Not in the back of his mouth, but front and center. I couldn’t figure out why such an attractive and supposedly professional man in his late 30’s to early 40’s would sport a silver tooth. Was this a nod to his secret thug life? Did it indicate a level of maturity not yet reached? Did some woman with a gold or silver tooth convince him that it was attractive? Throughout the site visit I pondered this and asked myself “Why?!” I really wanted to know. As someone who places a high value on a beautiful rack...of white teeth, this disturbed me. Was I wrong for dismissing Mr. Man because of his silver tooth? How could I explain that to my mom, my girlfriends, my boyfriend, strangers on the street, etc? A silver tooth and he’s not a rapper? Why?????????????? Now, I hate to dis on anyone for their personal style and taste, but I just couldn't help but express my distain for that. If I can't express it in my blog of observant musings, then where can I?

The second curiosity is this: In this vast blogosphere, I came across a blog that compelled me to say “Damn!” and wonder, is it possible to have a blog-mate, a blog-rade in arms? You know a connection in the semantic world, rather than the physical one? I’m reading up on a fellow who writes a blog, and expresses his thoughts so articulately, and with such conviction and truth (in his own special way), that whether what he says makes sense or not, I experience a visceral reaction. I think so highly of his written work, the imaginative illustrations of what he undertakes physically and of his ability to want us to be voyeurs as his life unfolds day-by-day or week-by-week, that I created a new word just for him (a sincere form of admiration- this is).

He is a Philanderpist, (n. a master at philandering) 1. A specialist, one who has obtained a high level of success, publicity and expertise from the act(s) of carrying on a sexual affair or many affairs with a frolicsome or casual attitude with the intent to increase as much as possible, his own and much of woman-kind’s well-being (see, big-girl exceptions). 2) (v. to undertake philandthropy) To do something, or someone, so as to intentionally promote the pleasure of himself and (as a by-product) woman-kind. To give support or relief in the form of sexual charity to the point it obscures sexual clarity.

I discovered said Philanderpist, through a sweet comment he made on and about this very blog. I could not help but investigate further someone who has such obvious good taste.

While I have come across many women with the gift of blog (some are listed here, more are to come) could it be that I have stumbled upon a man who lives true fantasies and lives to write about them? Damn!

Copyright 2005

Rosa Parks -Rest In Peace

"Memories of our lives, of our works and our deeds will continue in others."
-Rosa L. Parks 1913-2005
God bless you and thank you Ms. Parks for modeling the true strength of a woman and of a people. You make us proud.

Ms. Domina Part 1

“Looking for a tender lover? Well, look elsewhere! Call Ms. Domina for some tough love. I’ll love you till it hurts so good.” I was pretty happy with my advertisement; I thought it was clever. The first day it ran, I’d received 10 calls. I’d made appointments with 6 of them, including 2 women. The others were curious, but not yet ready to try a session with a Dominatrix. That’s ok, I have a very specialized field. You have to know what you're doing to be successful in it, and clients had to know their threshold for pain-both physical and mental to take part. Few people could search themselves for those depths. I like being a Dominatrix. I get to let out all my frustration and get paid for it, and yet I can be a tender lover with my man, or men in my private life for balance.

Being that my clientele is mostly men, I was surprised the 2 women had called. Their numbers were increasing among my list of clients. I suppose as women take on more roles traditionally filled by men, they begin to suffer the same pressures, and seek to relieve them in the same manner that men do. I like working with women. I could be as merciless with them as I was with the men, and some of those bitches would take it like a man too. I wore even my own self out, trying to break them! All part of the game though, tear them down, build them back up, send them on to fight another day. I am good at my job, if I do say so myself. Although, I don’t have to say so myself mind you. Most of my clientele comes to me through referrals. I only place ads when I am bored with my regulars, and need knew blood so to speak. To be clear I am not a prostitute. I never engage in intercourse with my clients…well maybe I shouldn’t say “Never”.

Mainly, I simply offer them a type of absolution for whatever misdeed they believe they are guilty of. I take the pound of flesh owed to their lovers, bosses, friends, society, whoever was wronged by them.

For instance take the time a man who ran a homeless shelter for indigent families came to see me because he felt guilty that he had been personally profiting from the donations made to the shelter. He would sort through the donation bins nightly, pick out the more desirable items and sell them on ebay for quite a tidy little sum. He felt that the families didn’t need to wear vintage Emilio Pucci, or Christian Dior. He said that they didn’t have homes, so they had no need for DVD players, or play stations. He said that he knew he had done a very bad thing, and must be punished for it. “You dirty dog!” I shouted at him. “I will punish you alright.” I offered him just enough pleasure to take the sting of the pain away. In doing so, I made him cum all over the dog food he was to eat. Oh well, nothing like a little seasoning I told him as I struck my whip across his buttocks and made him get down on all fours to eat it.

But today, my ad had elicited an unusual call. She was a newbie, and a bit skittish. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to come to me, or for me to meet her at her place. She asked me to schedule a time for her the following Thursday, and told me she would get back to me with an address.

...To be continued
Copyright 2005

Observant Musing-Man Hands

I was sitting in yet another conference session listening to the presenter outline educational reform. As usual, I tried to survey the room to see what I could see. Because I was sitting at a 2-person table, I had a seatmate. Out of my own self-consciousness, or perhaps out of fear of her taking notice of me taking notice, I felt somewhat restrained in my observations.

The session facilitator and another aide had begun to pass out hard copies of the presenter’s Power Point presentation.

They began to pass them out much like they do an offering in church. Beginning at one row, the aide passed out a number of presentations for the attendees in that row to take. At the end of the row the facilitator would take the remaining copies and pass them to the next row. On and on this went, until the facilitator was standing beside me. She stood there clutching a batch of presentations waiting to see if there would be enough from the previous row to reach me.

As it turned out there wasn’t. I looked up at her, with my hand out stretched to receive a presentation from the stack in her hands. It was then that I really noticed her hands. They were exceptionally large and pudgy-very much like what you would expect from a man’s hands. Her nails were unpolished, and clipped short. There was nothing about her hands that would distinguish them from a man’s hands, if they weren’t attached to her otherwise womanly body. I couldn’t help but smile internally, as they made me think of the Seinfeld show about “Man hands”.

I wondered if the characteristics of her hand gave any hints to her sexuality. I was intrigued at the contrast between her hands and those of more feminine hands. The situation compelled me to look at my own, those of my seatmate and anyone else I could easily spy without too much neck-craning.

I felt I could safely only look ahead or to my sides, of which the left side stood a wall of glass looking into an empty hallway. On my right side and one table over, was seated a 30-something Black man. He would probably be considered attractive to someone- he just didn’t strike me. However, in my process of sizing him up to determine that, I took notice of his hands. They were the kind of hands I like. They were a beautiful cinnamon-chocolate- brown. His skin was unblemished, and properly moisturized. His fingers were long and thick. His nails were neatly trimmed and they just reached the tips of his fingers-no longer, no shorter and no clear nail polish. The palms of his hands appeared firm, yet smooth and pliant.

I can’t say enough about how so damn sexy and important well-groomed hands are. Especially if they will be entwined with mine, or find their way over my body (this particular gentleman’s wouldn’t, but still you get the point). Hands are one of the first things I notice on a man, and I am quite sure that I am not the only woman that feels this way. I take great care to keep my skin soft and smooth, and only well-groomed hands can truly appreciate that. Needless to say, this also applies to feet. Not only were his hands aesthetically pleasing, their physical size indicated that bigger things could be in store, and begged me to confirm this by checking out his feet. I guess it wouldn’t be fair, and far be it from me to generalize and teeter on the verge of stereotyping; so I won’t tell you what size they appeared to be.

Copyright 2005