FREE the JENA 6

"First they came for the Communists,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Communist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Jew.
Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I was a Protestant.
Then they came for me,
and by that time there was no one
left to speak up for me."


by Rev. Martin Niemoller, 1945

Let the world know that we are watching and this miscarriage of justice can NOT happen on the watch of ANYone who who values equal, and appropriate justice for EVERYONE! (and we need to wake up to all the other political and social injustices that are occuring daily that we are turning a blind eye to!

Go to Jena, LA if you can and join the peaceful rally. If you can't go, wear Black wherever you are on 9/20/07 to signify support for the Jena 6 and the people who have given their time and effort to support them in person.

You can also go to the Color of change website and sign the petition of support at: http://www.colorofchange.org/jena/?id=1763-389519 and buy t-shirts to contribute to their defense fund.

...fade to black

Nay’s Anatomy an Observant Musing on Grey’s Anatomy

As we near the end of 2006, I have to address something that has boggled my mind this whole year. In this Observant Musing (or Observant Ranting if you will), I have to express my dismay at the Grey’s Anatomy producers, and well, the public at-large. First, let me say, I love the show! It is because I love it that I can no longer sit idly by and watch the “Mc” phenomenon sweep the country, without adding my 2 cents worth about it.

Dr. Shepherd as McDreamy: Yes, he’s cute. He has great hair and a charming demeanor. Ok, I give you that.

Dr. Sloan as McSteamy: Well. Ok. He is rather HOT. He’s working that facial hair isn’t he? Well-groomed. Who doesn’t love that?

Now the “Mc” moniker has even spilled over to another show with a McTreemy. And he too, is someone nice to look at.

But, ummm, excuse me, someone or two have been left out of the “Mc” fuss. And it’s got my panties all in a bunch!

Why haven’t Dr. Burke and the Chief been elevated to “Mc” status? Are they not extremely McGood-looking as much as the others? Are they not 2 of the most attractive doctors on the show? I Mcthink so! So then, where is their hype? I have waited the whole year for the situation to be rectified, and at this late date, I am still waiting. Well, I can wait no longer.

Let’s review, shall we?

Have you seen the Chief’s (Richard Webber) smile? It is beautiful! It is brilliant! He is so fine! I just love the salt and pepper look (and the goatee works for me too!). He is distinquished. He is classicly handsome. He is well-built. Just because he is the mature one, doesn’t mean he should be ignored by this trend. I now proclaim him “McGleamy” in honor of his beautiful smile (which they should give him a story line that allows him to do more of) and his beautiful brown eyes.

Moving on. Has anyone taken a look at Dr. Preston Burke at all?! I mean come on! His chiseled features are to be envied. I’d love to run my fingers along his chiseled jaw line. He too is my kinda guy! Have you seen his Mcbody in a tight sweater? Also, the man’s skin is perfect! His skin looks like the type of chocolate that if you're handling it right-melts in your hands as well as, your mouth. How can he go so unnoticed, so un “Mc’d”? I am McFlabbergasted! I just don’t McGet it! Is there something else at play here, when a man that good-looking and talented has yet to be crowned king of the “Mc’s”? Hmmm, I wonder…

Well, I guess I am going to have to do what the producers/writers have neglected for far too long to do.

In honor of his delectable, creamy cocoa skin, I now proclaim Dr. Burke “McChocolate Creamy”. Or "McCreamy" for short.

Yep, I would certainly love to have either of these men “attending” to me.

Ok, I feel a bit better about the whole “Mc” thing. Thanks for letting me get that off...a certain part of my anatomy.

Copyright 2006

Observant Musing-Hearse-Story

I am not a very superstitious person. At least I try not to be. I do try to find meaning where perhaps there is none, and take certain things as a “sign” of impending fortune, doom or indifference, but that’s not really superstitious is it?

Don’t get me wrong, I am not completely superstitious free. For instance, I feel uneasy when someone I am walking with inadvertently splits a pole, a tree, a post, or anything of the like. The consequences of not undoing the impending doom of splitting a pole are told to be dastardly for the youngest person in the group. It doesn’t matter whether it was done intentionally or inadvertently. So, I say “Bread and Butter” when it happens, and that is the cure-all that sets things back right again.

It wasn’t until a friend told me that it only matters if it’s a true pole, and if the pole is taller than the shortest person that I am walking with. Also, that person has to be walking side-by-side with you. It doesn’t count if they are a few steps ahead, and bad luck will not follow in that circumstance. I was able to relax a bit after hearing that bit of clarification. However, given all the variations of the stipulations and consequence, I say “Bread and Butter” anyway. Just to make sure that all remains well.

Then of course, I never pick-up a penny unless it is heads-up. To pick it up with the face down, is I am told, back luck. I just picked up that superstition about a year ago. I have another friend to thank for that.

I gave up trying not to step on cracks a long time ago. It's just too hard for someone who always tries to keep her head up to constantly be looking down.

I don’t have a fear of black cats crossing my path. One did so several years ago, and great fortune soon followed. I think I am pretty normal when it comes to superstitions. I try not to let them get the best of me.

That said though, I fear that I have created a superstition for myself. You see, yesterday, I was driving along singing to music on my way to a training. I was taking my time, doing 65mph in a 65 zone. I looked in front of me and realized that there was a hearse driving directly in front of me. The hearse was a new model, very sleek and economized. It looked very much like an SUV. It wasn’t until I noticed the typical scroll detailing on the back door, that I realized what it was. “Where did that come from?” I said, feeling a little unease stir within me.

I quickly changed lanes and sped up to get away from it. I noticed two men driving it, with what I am sure were very austere faces. Did they just look at me and grin sinisterly? I sped up some more. I was now going 75 mph. My eyes continually darted from the front window to the rear view mirror, checking the status of the other cars in front of me, and making sure the hearse was behind me.

The hearse changed lanes and was now behind me again! “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, I beseech you to get back!” I yelled inside my head. What was a hearse doing in the fast lane anyway? “Lordy!” What does this mean for me? I thought. I sped up some more until I was doing 80mph. I had quite a distance more to go until my exit. I knew that I couldn’t keep up that pace for fear of a cop pulling me over. I didn’t fear an accident as the road was fairly deserted. Just me a few other cars and the hearse.

“Go tail someone else!” I shouted to it. For the sake of my blood pressure, I had to put some distance between me and it. “Bring It On Home To Me” by Sam Cooke was playing on my IPOD. Was that a sign as in “Come on home to the Lord”? I wondered. I quickly scanned ahead to another song. “Tracy Chapman’s “Cold Feet” came on. “Shoot!!!!!” I scanned some more until, I found something I could live with. I finally settled on James Taylor’s “(I’ve Got to Stop) Thinkin' Bout That”. “Where is that hearse?” I said to myself.

I climbed a hill, which gave me the view that I needed to check the status of the hearse. Fortunately, it was well behind me and back to the slower lane -where it belonged. “Phew!” I said as I began to relax. I couldn’t be completely relaxed though, until I couldn’t see it anymore. I couldn’t be quite comfortable until I reached my destination (not my final destination to be clear).

My eyes continued to dart to the rear-view mirror. Suddenly, I became aware that I might have missed my exit, all the scenery looked the same and I was unfamiliar enough with my terrain, to say for sure. I did know one thing, and that was that I wasn’t going to turn off, turn around and be behind the hearse again. I kept going. As it turned out, I hadn’t missed my exit and I arrived safe and alive.

Ugh!!! Mondays! I laughed out loud to myself. Nervously.

I shall try to behave more grown-up about it, if I should be in close proximity to a hearse again. Superstitions aren’t real, and are only meant to scare and control people. There is no truth to them, and nothing dastardly will come of ignoring or of respecting them. Right? This I say as I knock on the wood of my desk…

Have a Happy and Safe Halloween!


Copyright 2006

R.I.P. Tamara Dobson a.k.a. Cleopatra Jones

She was 6'2 of Dynamite and the Hottest Super Agent Ever!!!!

On Oct. 2, 2006, the world lost one super smart , super fine and super sexy woman.

With the influx of bad blaxplotation films during the 70's the Cleopatra Jones series stood out. She had class! Tamara played Cleopatra Jones with intelligence, flair and loads of sex appeal. Cleopatra Jones refused to be victimized, sexualized, or dummified. She was a warrior for her people, and her country. NOBODY messed with Cleopatra Jones, and if they tried, it was to their demise!

NOBODY could compete with Tamara's smooth velvet skin, long, long legs, and stunning beauty. Her original sense of fashion has been emulated by women in her generation and in generations since. Myself included. I have often thought about who could even attempt to reprise the role of Cleopatra Jones? Out of all the strong and beautiful black women to choose from, only 1 woman stands out. Ms. Queen Latifah.

From a fictional realm, Cleopatra Jones became my real life hero. The woman who brought her to life as only she could, Ms. Tamara Dobson will surely be missed.

You Like Me! You Really Really Like Me!

Dear Readers,
Just when I thought it was all for naught, I get some exciting news!
I've just found out that I am a finalist in the Best Erotica category of The Black Web Awards! How cool is that?!!!! Too Cool!

Thank you to those that nominated me. WOW!!! Out of all the Erotica sites online, La Femme Nubian stood out and that makes me proud. Now, if I win, I will be even more proud. So, please, please, please vote for me!

Click on the Black Web Awards link listed under my "Links" column. Or, copy and paste http://www.blackwebawards.com/lifestyles_ballot in your address box to find the box for Best Erotica Site and click on La Femme Nubian to vote for your favorite Nubian Femme (Naylene).

What a way to celebrate a year of blogging!
THANK YOU!

Happy Anniversary to Me!

Today marks 1 year of blogging. So, Happy Anniversary to me!!!! It all started with fantasies of my muse, and look what else I have found to write about. More thoughts about this last year of blogging to come, but I am too tired right now.

Observant Musing - Eros Ramazzotti

I first fell in love with Eros Ramazzotti when I traveled through Europe as a 21 year old. (Love/lust? Whichever you want to call it is fine.)
When I first saw him, I was watching European MTV. His video came on for Se Bastasse una Canzone. If I remember correctly, it was done in sepia tone. I was absolutely taken with the man, his words and the melody, even though I understood not a word of Italian at the time. I immediately went out and bought “In Ogni Senso”. I wore the cassette out listening to it. (I have since replaced it with a CD).

One time I was in a train station in Bologna, and a man with a guitar came up to me, and asked me what he could play for me (someone translated this for me). Having only 1 song on my mind at the time I told him “Se Bastasse una Canzone”. He was so surprised that I knew Italian music, he sang that song with heart, and the whole platform applauded when he finished. He then kissed my hand and I boarded the train.

Truth be told, I fell in love with many Italians as I traveled through Italy (and in large part why I hope to make my home there one day! LOL, but very serious). Ah, Dominico, who is about 7 ft. tall with long gorgeous hair that he wore in a ponytail, braids, and all manner of other styles. I met him on the Ponte de Vechio Bridge. He was hip, he was exciting, he was very passionate and cool, and spoke nary a word of English. Then there was Giacomo with the jet black hair, and crystal blue eyes. He had the most beautiful smile and olive skin ever! His eyes gave meaning to the word “Piercing”. He gave me free room and board on a ferry that he worked on. I could have stayed on that ship and sailed the Mediterranean with him forever. Then there was Antonio. Antonio translated the lyrics to Eros’ songs for me in broken English. He was so loving and kind, so very adventurous.

But back to Eros. He has gotten finer with time, and so have the memories that he has been the soundtrack for. Now, he has added salt to his pepper hair, but the voice, the meaning of his songs, the way he looks, the way he writes and sings of love, and politics, and human emotion, and justice (did I mention the way he looks?) are as timeless as love itself. How did his parents know when they named him Eros?

I think that he sealed the deal for me with the song Piu Bella Cosa. As Antonio explained it to me, in Piu Bella Cosa he sings of a woman, and that there is nothing more beautiful than she. But the line that really clinches it for me is when he says “Thank you for existing.”

I don’t know if those are his actual words, but that was the way Antonio could explain them to me, and therefore, I don’t want to find out any differently (so don’t tell me if it ain’t so). Isn’t it just so beautiful that someone can thank someone for existing?

So many times, we get wrapped up in what our lives are like because someone is in our life when we don’t want them to be, or has affected our life in a way that we didn’t want them to. Sometimes, and it probably happens more than we give it credit for, there are people in our lives that we have to thank for existing, and for being a part of it. For, what would our life like be like had they not existed? What would the world be like?

This entry is for Eros Ramazzotti, (who doesn’t know me and who I don’t know -but wish I did!) for existing, because sometimes one beautiful song is enough to remind us that there are people in our lives that we should thank God that they exist.


Copyright 2006

Naylene Is P O'd...Time for a TKO!!

Well, well, well. I wondered when this day would come. It appears to have arrived. I've talked before about sucker punches, and the unsavory types who have pulled them. Some are forgettable. Others are not! I have always tried to take the high road, but now, I don't think so. I am putting my gloves on, and I am going to hit low-real low.

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Hmmmm... What about all- out plagiarism? I AM NOT FLATTERED. I am P O'd, and I will not take this sitting down. You see, I have been alerted to the fact that some unimaginative, umm, person has decided to take MY written work, MY published work, MY imagination, MY talent, MY skills and use them for his own site!! Get this though...it is a paid site, so he is profitting from my skillz!! Whereas, I have allowed all to enjoy them freely. The nerve! I am in good company though. Without giving a single credit, he appears to have done this with the work of others, as well. Creative types, unite! This shit must be stopped! The nerve!!

I would like to remind anyone contemplating, or actually stealing my work or that of others that plagerizing copyrighted work is a crime, punishable under the law. ALL of my work is copyrighted, not only through creative commons, but other avenues as well. Alas, I was/am going to write a book, but perhaps, I can just sue and make my fortune that way!

Dear HONEST readers, I implore you, if you see my work or anything suspiciously similar, please leave me an anonymous post with its location, and I will investigate the matter.

Until, I find the culprit(s) I am afraid that I will no longer be posting Erotica (but I will let you know when the book is available).
My time and talents are too valuable to have someone absconde with my work without my permission and at the very least without giving me a bit of credit.

I will continue with my Observant Musings however, and I hope you will stay tuned to enjoy those.

Copyright 2006

Now I Know Why...

"Guess I'll always a dreamer
Dreaming my life away, dreaming my life away
A romantic fool, that's what I am
I think about you, all day long
Though it's impossible, for us together
Oh it's not real, a love I can't feel

Guess I'll always be a dreamer
Dreaming my life away, dreaming my life away
I just can't wait, till I go to sleep
I'll be with you, all night long
Circumstances held me in a terrible face
It's fantasy, I just like to share these moments together

Guess I'll always be a dreamer
Dreaming my life away, dreaming my life away
And nothing comes but sleep, to a dreamer
And when you wake up the dream is gone away

Guess I'll always be a dreamer
Dreaming my life away, dreaming my life away
Guess I'll always be a dreamer
Dreaming my life away, dreaming my life away"

Lyrics by The Jacksons, Dreamer

Day 4

On Wednesday, my co-workers and I needed to get our plan together on how we were going to get to the airport in time to catch our flights. Everyone wanted to get together over lunch to discuss the plan. I text the Hot One, during a break and told him that we wouldn’t be able to have lunch. At lunch, I found out that everyone wanted to go to the hotel restaurant. Hmmm, a plan quickly formed in my head. Being the rebel that I am, I told them I wanted to go to Bellini’s, one last time for their Verde Blanco. It was my excuse to see if I could meet up with the Hot One. Even if I couldn’t, I figured that I would still enjoy a nice meal in a cool atmosphere.

I called the Hot One from the restaurant, and since it is on the lower level near the garage our reception was pretty bad. Before one call was dropped I told him that I was on a lunch break, and asked if he was available for lunch. He said “Now? You text me earlier that you couldn’t make it.” “I know, I said and relayed my maneuvering. “Well, I’m all sweaty and in sweats now.” “Hmmm”, I said, “What have you been doing?” I asked coyly. Ugh! Why did I ask that? Did I really want to know? Was it really any of my business? “I just got back from the gym.” He answered. Then the call dropped. I ran all over the restaurant, inside and out, and to the garage trying to get a signal. I finally did. He said, “How long are you going to be there?” I have about an hour.” I told him. “If I don’t see you now, will I be able to see you later?” He asked. “No.” I said. I have to catch a flight right after the training is over.” “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” He said. I smiled. No, I cheesed. Then the call dropped!

I didn’t know if he knew where Bellini’s was. “Oh Shit!” I tried calling him back. I couldn’t get a signal. I was able to text him, and hoped that it would go through eventually. “I’m at Bellini’s. Do you know it?” I went back to my table, where my waitress was waiting to serve me. I sat there staring at my phone waiting for a message that my text was sent. I finally got one. But would he come? I occupied myself by eating and reading a local newspaper. I was finished with my lunch and just waiting for the bill. I figured he couldn't make it (not cheesing now). Then, I looked up and there he was. Look’in all good in his sweat suit. I cheesed again. “Oh, I was wondering if you would make it.” I said nonchalantly. “I text you back that I would.” He said. “Hmm, I haven’t gotten anything.”, and as soon as I said it, his text came through. “I know it. Be right there.” It said.

I paid my bill and we left. We walked to his car and sat in it for our remaining time. We talked about all sorts of things: His mama, his dad, his buiness, his paper chase, and his life. He was a pretty cool cat. Alas, it was time for me to head back to finish the training. The Hot One asked me if I wanted him to kiss me again. “Do you want me to kiss you again?” I asked. “Yeah”, he said as he leaned over and gave me another long and sweet kiss.

We said that we would keep in touch, but I don’t think we will. Distance and circumstance would make it very difficult. Plus, I sense that we are looking for different things. Even though he claims he is a nerd, I suspect he is more a playa. In fact, I suspect he is a playa, player, and gets "it" thrown at him all the time. Looking and acting as he does, why wouldn’t he? Those lucky ladies in OK get to hear "Sweetheart" and "Darlin" all the time!

Sigh. I had a great time in Ok. Even though I only spent 4 long days, and 4 short nights, at least I can say that now I know why Okie’s say “Oklahoma is OK!”

Now I am back up North, sitting for a spell, and pondering my romantic future. I have met some great men, just not the right man (at least that hasn’t been revealed to me yet). It's so much harder to find him, when you live in isolation! Until I meet him, I guess I will continue to be the dreamer and fantasizer that I am, moving forward with the business at hand. I’ll go through the motions of observing the daily grind, and go to sleep at night looking forward to the next’s days possibilities. While that is not at all a bad life, at some point (now!), I’d like to know that when I wake up, I’ll find that my dream and fantasy is real, and he is sleeping right beside me.

Copyright 2006

The Hot One and a Sweetheart

"Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself
Enjoy yourself with me
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself
Enjoy yourself with me
Better enjoy yourself
Better enjoy yourself

You sittin' over there starin' into space
While people are dancin', dancin' all over the place
But you shouldn't worry about things that cha can't control
come on girl while the night is young
Why don't you let, let yourself go woo
(repeat chorus)

Let's have some fun
Let's have a good time you an' me
Sittin' there wit-cha mouth poked out
Just sweet as you can be
Why don't-cha live, live the life you got
Come on girl let's spin it while the music's runnin' hot woo
(repeat chorus)

Pretty girl I been watching you
I can wipe away that frown
Ah you an' I should git together
We could tear the house down
We could tear the house down
We could tear the whole house down woo
(Repeat chorus)


Come on, come on, come on, come on
(Come on, come on, come on
You can do it, you can do it
You can do it, you can do it)
Woo"

The Jacksons, Enjoy Yourself

Day 2

So after another day of intensive training, I went upstairs to get ready to go see Cirque and have the Hot One come see me. While getting ready, I got a call inviting me to NYC again. Hmmm. I’ll probably go, but I am thinking that I really need to look closer to home for what I want…Anyway, I have time to think about that later. Cirque Du Soleil was amazing. This version was called Delirium. It featured lots of rock music and movement. It was kind of like a rock opera. Oh, and the opening act was a woman called Nietza, that I had never heard of. She has a beautiful voice. Her musical styling is what I would call a combination of Enya, and afro-latin beats.

I was a bit tired after all that, as I didn’t have time to nap, but I taxied back over to the Hotel to meet the Hot One for drinks at the bar. I was starving, as I also didn’t have time to eat either. The restaurant was closed, room service stopped delivering, and the bar had nothing but alcohol. I was having an Apple Martini, and I knew that I had to have some sort of sponge for it. The bar mistress- angel that she is, went to the kitchen and gathered up some cookies and potato chips for me. So I sat there shoving them into my face, trying to be cool as I really devoured them in front of the Hot One. He kept telling me, “We have restaurants in Oklahoma, you know. We can go get you something to eat.” “That’s ok.” I told him…reluctantly, because it was late, and I couldn't eat that late. Although believe me, I wanted to. Anyway, we sat there for 2 Apple Martini’s worth of time, and talked.

The Hot One is so cool…and so hot!!! He is tall, about 6’4. Well built, with beautiful smooth, honey-colored skin, and beautiful eyes that have a natural twinkle in them. He wears these really nice stylized glasses too. I am a sucker for a nice and good looking man with: a goatee, glasses and a black turtleneck. Well, 2 out of 3 wasn’t bad. LOL The weather was so nice that a turtleneck would not have been in order, but a girl can imagine. Can’t she? He is on a paper chase. He has his own business and is just very laid back, cool, calm and collected.

Though I was having a great time, and he was really taking my mind off things touching me gently on my arm or leg (smooth); eventually, I had to call it a night as it was getting late. (Plus, several other conference attendees where in the bar, and turning in as well. I couldn’t have witnesses to me closing the bar down. I had to look as serious as they did.) I walked the Hot One outside to his car. He gave me the sweetest kiss. The kind of kiss that I will remember for days and weeks to come. Have you ever had the perfect kiss? He said, “I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight. I enjoyed myself. Can I see you tomorrow, Sweetheart?” (melt, melt, melt) “Huh? What was that you were saying? I was just a little busy seeing stars just then.” No, just kidding I didn’t say that…

I told the Hot One that I was leaving the next day, but that maybe we could meet for lunch. I would call him and let him know. “Heck yes, I was going to see him tomorrow!”

…to be continued


Copyright 2006

The Wild West Heats Up

"Well, I met a man out in Hollywood
And I ain’t namin’ names
But he really worked me over good
Just like Jesse James

Yes, he really worked me over good
He was a credit to his gender
He put me through some changes, Lord
Sorta like a waring blender

Poor, poor pitiful me!
Poor, poor pitiful me!
Oh, these boys won’t let me be
Lord have mercy on me!
Woe, woe is me!

Well, I met a boy in the vieux-carres
Down in yokahoma
He picked me up and he threw me down
Sayin’, please don’t hurt me, mama!

Poor, poor, poor me!
Poor, poor pitiful me!
Oh, these boys won’t let me be
Lord have mercy on me!
Woe, woe is me!"

Lyrics by Warren Zevon, and Terri Clark, Poor, Poor Pitiful Me

Day 1

Monday, after a long day of training, I begged-off from having dinner with my co-workers and instead went my own way. Unfortunately, this conference was not as populated as the one in D.C. and the participants seemed kinda stodgy, bland and a little too subdued for my tastes. So, it was off to the Daiquiri Zone that I went-solo. I had been told that Bricktown was hopp'in after a basketball game let out. Normally, it is not in my nature to: #1 go to bars, and #2 to go to bars by myself, but I wasn’t going to stay for long, and I wanted to see as much of the OK attractions as I could for the short time I was there. Anyway, I had to eat somewhere, so why not venture down there? I just adopted the mindset that I had when I Eurailed across Europe for a year-hoping that it would be the same kind of great adventure. It was. I spent the first part of the night sitting at the bar, chatting with the bar mistress- Carole, (not her real name) a real sweet heart.

The Daiquiri Zone is a really cool spot, and very sporty in its décor. It is laid back, and I felt at ease. It also has a plethora of Daiquiri flavors to choose from-go figure. If you happen by there, I recommend the Bellini, as it has a uniquely flavorful taste (there is also a restaurant called Bellini’s, but I will get to that later).

I was sitting there enjoying my drink and chatting with Carole, when the wildest thing happened to kick-off the second part of my evening. Two gentlemen (one of them absolutely Hot!), sitting to the side of me engaged me in conversation. “So, what’s your name Sweetheart?”, the Hot One asked. I told him, and he and Ken introduced themselves. No, that is not what was wild-I’m getting to that. Ken was traveling from Sacramento to Atlanta by bus, because he had a fear of flying.

He had stopped in Oklahoma for a brief layover, and popped into the DZ as well. He was telling me about some of his bus adventures and the cities he had been through. He mentioned that had stopped in a particular city en route, which I was familiar with. I told him that I had family in that city. “I know it is kind of ridiculous to think that you might know of them, but it’s a large family in a small town so you might.” I said. I told him the last name, and immediately he said, “Charles?!” “OMG! Yes!” I said excitedly. “I know your people.” He said. “Charles is an excellent speaker, very motivating. I don’t know him personally, but I heard him speak once. Wow, so that’s your family?!” He asked incredulously. I said, “Yeah man, 6-degrees of separation, I guess.” That is what was wild. Wasn’t it?

Shortly after speaking with Travelling Man, I had to leave, as it was getting late, the Hot One was leaving too. He wanted to walk me to my cab. We were waiting for it outside, when he asked me if he could see me again. I responded by asking him how old he was. A common problem I have is that either men much older than me are attracted to me, (I guess because they think they are talking to a PYT), or, conversely younger men are attracted to me, because they think they are talking to someone their age. Very rarely do I meet someone my age. I have to get the age thing straight up front, because age differentiations do matter to me-if the numbers go too low. As it turns out, the Hot One is a bit into his 30’s, making us within the same age bracket. Although I prefer older men, it was an acceptable age difference. Besides, the way he calls me “Sweetheart and Darlin” makes me melt, and he looked and acted like a fully-grown man. He asked how old I was, and I told him. Ok, here it goes.

“No way! You can’t be ___. You’re kidding me right?” “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” I said. “There is no way I would have figured you for__!” “Wow, __!” He went on. And on. “Ok, if you persist down this line of disbelief, I am no longer going to consider it a compliment!.” I told him laughing. “Oh, oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. ___ is not old anyway. It’s just that you don’t look ___.” “Ok, I get it!” Jeesh! We exchanged numbers and my cab arrived.

He opened the door for me just in time, as it took a great deal of restraint for us to pull away from each other as we hugged goodbye. So, the next night, I had a ticket to see Cirque Du Soleil, and a date with the Hot One as well.

To be continued…

Copyright 2006

Mamasita-Here's Your Sign...

"Who doesn't know what I'm talking about?
Who's never left home, who's never struck out
To find a dream and a life of their own
A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone

Many precede and many will follow
A young girl's dream no longer hollow
It takes the shape of a place out west
But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed

[Chorus:]
She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

She traveled this road as a child
Wide eyed and grinning, she never tired
But now she won't be coming back with the rest
If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test

She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

Wide Open Spaces-Lyrics by the Dixie Chicks

The Arrival
Well, if I needed a sign that things are going to be okay, I certainly got it. Check out the sign at Mamasita's restaurant: "Smokin! Women Welcome". I'm asking you, "Could I plan these things if I tried?!" Mamasita's is a restaurant with great ambiance that serves delicious Mexican food. The wait staff is friendly and accomodating as well.

While in Oklahoma, I found the people are very friendly, and the city easily navigable. One day, one of my drivers gave me a brief history of some points of the city. He was a native from Boley. Boley was an all Black town, which was settled in the days of the Wild West. According to legend, in its hey day, Pretty Boy Floyd told his posse to go rob the black folk’s bank in Boley. Well, the citizens of Boley were not going to have that, and took his posse out when they arrived. On that fateful day, things were not ok for PBF’s posse! I found that to be an interesting tidbit of history.

During the course of conversation, Kurt (not his real name) asked me if I had been to Oklahoma before. I had. His question prompted me to thinking about that time. You see, I had been to OK to see my boyfriend (at the time) graduate from University. I hadn’t seen much more of OK than the campus back then. When Kurt asked when that was, my reply to his question caught me off-guard. I had to think about it, and recheck my math. Then I had to think about it again. When I told him how long ago it was, he said that couldn’t be right, so we both did the math again. It had been almost 20 years!!! “That can’t be right!” He said. “I know!!!!” I said. “You don’t look old enough to have been here 20 years ago.” He said. “I know!!!” I said. But it was true, I was old enough, and I am old enough. That was a wild west moment to realize that I am old enough to have sown some oats twenty years ago. But I am young enough still to be able to remember them, and to sow some more-mind you.

As I was walking into my hotel a tall, dark and handsome man said "Hey." to me as he was leaving. I was too tired and road weary to think much about it or respond with more than a "Hey." back. It wasn't until I got to the front-desk that the woman behind the counter asked me if I knew who that was. I am not into sports, so I didn't. It was a player for one of the teams playing the next night. That was certainly a nice way to get this adventure started!

Once I had checked into my hotel, I checked to see if any of my co-workers had arrived. None had. I went to the hotel restaurant and partook of brunch. I was exhausted and famished. It was there that I met Clive (not his real name), the distinguished restaurant manager. I was sitting there thinking (read: staring into space) when he came over to me and said “My grandmother told me that all beautiful women should have a smile on their face.” I looked up at him with my mouth full of food, and tried to smile, since I gathered he was speaking about me.

He laughed and said, “I will wait until you are done.” Once finished, I smiled and said, “Thank you, but I hope she didn’t tell you that they should smile with their mouth full of food!” He started to laugh and said, “No, no she wouldn’t have said that!” “Well, I would think not.” I laughed. He then engaged me in a rather long but enjoyable and informative conversation and invited me back the following night to dine. As it would turn out, I never had time to make it back to the hotel restaurant -not for dinner anyway.

For, it was my destiny to meet a playa player...

To be continued...

Copyright 2006

Simple Things of Beauty

The weather has been so unseasonably nice that I can walk to work, and I'll just be cold -not frozen to death by the time I reach it. I live on a tree-lined street, and it was here that I spotted this bird co-op as I approached my house on my way home from work. You can't see them all in the picture, but there are 7 nests in this one tree! It struck me as quite nice, to see that they had their own little community going on (or at least did have it going on).

I was intriqued by it, as I am fascinated by the ingenuity of birds, and the way they make their nests. When I reached my house, I spotted beneath my own gigantic tree a teeny, tiny nest that had fallen from it. It is soooo small and cute. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a sign of some sort.

These are simple things of beauty, but aren't they the best kind?

Copyright 2006

Betty Friedan RIP 1921 - 2006

Betty Friedan, author of The Feminine Mystique,
Thank you for opening doors for women, and encouraging us to seek fulfillment on our terms. Rest In Peace.

Some Random Musings & Observant Thoughts

The week was an interesting week. Lots of little things, rather than 1 or 2 big things seemed to give me the necessary stimuli that I constantly seek, and need to get me through the day. Let's ponder them shall we?

1) I got an Ipod Nano for Christmas, and as a music lover, it was the perfect gift for me. (A “Thank you, baby” goes out to my current/ex). Anyway, I was transferring some old CD’s to iTunes, to upload to the pod, when I came across TLC’s Fan Mail. I didn’t recall liking anything from that CD but “Scrubs” and “Unpretty”. However, I copied the whole CD anyway. I was at work listening to the pod, when I heard “Don’t Pull Out On Me Yet.” All I can say is “Where was I, that I’d never heard that song before?" I mean that CD came out in 1999! Since that time, man-kind has witnessed several natural and unnatural disasters, elected (not me) one of the worst “Leaders” in history-twice, I have moved 2 times, people have dropped like flies (including a TLC band-mate R.I.P) and a host of other noteworthy events occurred that are too many to list here. I can not believe that I am just getting hip to that super sexy song. A song that really just says it all in the title. Now 7 years later, I can’t stop playing it, as if it was just released.

2) I saw Queen Latifah’s Last Holiday. It was a cute movie, not as good as “Bringing Down the House”, not great like “Set It Off”, but better than “Beauty Shop” (it pains me to say that). So, there you go. However, I can’t believe the Queen let them do to her hair, what they did to it. It was so obviously a wig sitting precariously on top of her head. The wig was not central to the movie, or part of her character's illness, as it was not like she lost her hair as part of the plot. However, it had a starring role. For three-forths of the movie, I kept worrying that it was gonna fall off at any moment. It was very hard to concentrate on the plot (which fortunately was not difficult to keep up with). I just don’t get how someone as fly as the Queen, would let them preserve that look on film.

3) Speaking of Queens, I saw the Queen of my fantasies with someone else, and was both happy and a bit upset at that. I was happy that yes, I might have a chance, but a bit upset that... she was with someone else! Then, I was happy again to see that someone else was straight up thug-looking, and would eat my dust-there was no competition there…well, I mean she was with someone else, and not me, but that is just a temporary sit-chi-a-tion. Nah- mean?

4) I was in the drug store, buying some toilet scrubbers. When I got to the register, there was this rather large man, whose pants had fallen well past his waist line, showing his… “vertical smile” shall we say to all the world. It was very unpretty, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence of purchasing toilet scrubbers, and seeing a big ole butt.

5) My dear new friend Moe, whom I’d met at the conference I attended in DC called me, to tell me how absolutely charming I was, and how glad he was to have met me, and my gentleman friend. I chuckled inside because Moe had actually spied me with Cuban Cigar on Thursday and with FSG on Friday. Yet, he was gracious enough, not to notice (wink, wink) or remark on their difference. He wanted to invite me to a similar conference that will be held soon, saying that they (the conference hosts) would get much more out of me being there, then I would get from them (how sweet is that?), and he extended an invitation to visit him and his facilities down South at any time. He and his wife are very special people, and a blessing to their community.

6) FSG also called and we had a delicious conversation, seems we will have to make some arrangements to get together real soon.


Copyright 2006

Adore- A Scenario

She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing her hair, and preparing her head for the work she would be undertaking that day. The bathroom was still steamy from her shower. She could hear Prince’s “Adore” wafting in softly from the bedroom. She was lost in thought, when he came in behind her.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. She in turn placed her hands on his. She took notice of his long fingers entwined together and holding her tightly. She felt safe when he held her this way. He inhaled the scent of her hair. He nuzzled her neck, brushing his lips against it lightly. Aside from the Bond #9 New Haarlem perfume she wore, his keen nose detected the subtle scent of her heat that emanated from her body. He grunted softly and hungrily in her ear turned on by the subtlety he had come to recognize and in part, create.

She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes as his hands snaked their way down her hips, in between her thighs and to her crotch. He rubbed her pussy through her snug trousers. She began to moan softly. She opened her eyes to look at his reflection in the mirror. He was watching her intently. She smiled. She could feel him growing hard against her ass. She turned around to face him and lifted herself to a sitting position on the sink. Then, she pulled him between her legs to get him closer to her.

He leaned down to kiss her, and as he did, she wrapped her legs around him. He pulled back from her just enough to unbutton her blouse. She leaned back into the mirror as he did this. He slowly undid each button, until he could cup each breast in his hands.

He then undid the buttons of her slacks and pulled them, and her underwear down at the same time. They dropped softly to the floor. He looked at her sitting on the sink, leaning back against the mirror, once again, and smiled. This is what he saw: her blouse was opened and exposing just her bra. She was naked from the waist down, save for the sling-backs on her feet. Her thighs were glistening and soft from the lotion she’d just massaged into them. Oh, to be that lotion covering the length of those legs!

His big dick was rock hard and straining against his sweat pants, as he'd not dressed in the suit that hung waiting for him, in the closet. He would take care of that in a minute.

He took one of her legs in each hand, positioning them into “V” formation. Then he bent down between them and ate her pussy like it was going out of style. She could only moan, as she was positioned in such as way that she couldn’t move up or down to follow the path of his tongue. She couldn’t move from side to side to offer his tongue every crevice, and his nose every scent of her pussy . She could only call out his name-over and over again. She could only quiver in his mouth beneath his artful tongue.

After she’d come, he helped her down from the sink…and leaned her over it.

He momentarily paused, thinking “The ass or the pussy? The pussy or the ass?”

Which did he choose?

He thrust and thrust. She bounced back commanding him to “work it baby!”

He told her he was about to come. “Can I have it?” She asked him coyly.

He secondarily paused thinking, “Should I cum in her in her hot mouth, or explode all over her pretty face?”

Which did he choose?

Copyright 2006

Coretta Scott King R.I.P 1927-2006

"The Courage In Your Eyes"

The courage in your eyes
The wisdom in your smile
The strength within your heart
To walk the endless mile
The years have only shined upon your face
Will shower you with dignity and grace
The way you've lived your life
And the light you've always shown
More than the world, more than this world
More than the world
Has ever known
Lyrics by Michael Bolton

Rest in Peace Mrs. King,
You are an example of what everyone knows- that beside every great man is an outstanding woman.

Observant Musing-The Black Turtleneck

I was around downtown, killing some time when I spied a head of me, a sporty blue car come to a pause in front of a mailbox. I witnessed the hand and wrist of a man as it reached out of his car window to deposit some mail in the box.

I couldn’t see much more of him then his wrist and hand. However on that wrist, I noticed that he sported a sophisticatedly, simple silver-metal watch. It reminded me that fine jewelry applied sparingly on a man is very sexy. Just above his wrist was a bit of a crisply, starched, cuffed-shirt sleeve in the color black. That little bit of arm appeared tailored and stylish. As I watched him covertly from behind, I wondered if this man was truly stylish, or if it was the miracle of black, and my distance from him, that merely created the illusion that he was such. Hmmmm....

It got me to thinking-and gentlemen listen up, I am about to give you some advice that could change your luck, and thus your life. As it is now that time of year when winter clothing adorns your bodies, there is a staple for your wardrobe that you should know about. If you are tailored, and polished, then you probably already do. What is that one must have staple for the gentlemen’s wardrobe, you may ask? It is a well fitting black turtleneck. If you only buy one piece of clothing, this season let that be it.

You will suddenly find that women notice you. You will be walking down the street minding your own business, but you will begin to feel the heavy weight of hundreds and hundreds-ok, maybe 10’s and 10’s of eyes resting upon your shoulders, and making their way up to your eyes, and possibly back down your shoulders, all they way to your shoes. Doesn’t that sound nice?

I have a thing for a man in a black turtleneck. All my men have known this, and it has almost become a prerequisite to being with me, to have one in his wardrobe.
Now, pair that black turtleneck with a well groomed goatee, and I will be all over him like white on rice. Why that combo turns me on like it does, I don’t know. I can only speculate on a few reasons:

1)I am a throwback to the 60’s and that cool beatnik style that I was not yet born to appreciate and participate in. Thus, I live vicariously through that fashion sensibility now.

2)That I have dreams of Shaft and the machismo that he exudes which turns me on and makes me want the ‘shaft’.

3)That I am an undercover New Yorker, and like all things black.

4)That they are simply a miracle garment, much like the “A” line skirt for women, and that no matter the wearer, it can’t help but do a body good.

Throughout time, the black turtleneck has achieved legendary status. Think: Steve McQueen, Sean Connery and Richard Roundtree. Where would they be if they hadn’t been donning a black turtleneck?

Several years ago, I purchased a quality one for my current/ex, and per my request they have been a staple in his wardrobe ever since. He looks very good anyway, but when sporting a black turtleneck, he is super doper hot! I can only “allow” him to wear it when he is with me.

Now, we are contemplating the possible or obvious demise of our relationship, which would mean that he will be free to wear those damn black turtlenecks whenever he pleases.

I find myself not-so-absurdly thinking, that since Spring fashions are now appearing on store shelves, that this would be a good time to take all his turtlenecks and either cut them to bits, or burn them. Then, he won’t be able to wear them, or by new ones to wear… with someone else.

Of all the things that I could bear, for some reason, that is one thing that I can not. Not yet.

Copyright 2006

O.M. The Diary of a Bad Black Woman Day 4 & 5

Day 4 Thursday Evening, Feels So Good

I got to the hotel, to find FSG waiting outside. I was a bit peeved at my hotel. Before Cuban Cigar and I left for our walk, I had told them, that I would have a friend coming by, and that they should give him a key to my room, so he could wait comfortably. They said “Of course.” However, when FSG got there, there was no note of such conversation and they wouldn’t let him in my room. So, he’d gone to Starbucks to wait. I checked the Starbucks on my way back to the hotel, FSG wasn’t there, he’d had gone back to the hotel. I called him and told him that I would be there shortly. As usual, he was calm and cool.

As I approached him, I could see, that “Yep, he still looked very good.” He was, as he always is-impeccably dressed and groomed. And, he always has the biggest smile on his face when he sees me. I said, “Hey, Baby” as I approached him, and kissed him on his soft lips. I didn't care who saw us, I knew for sure that he was that special. He told me how good I looked, (which I doubt after all that walking) and we went upstairs to my room. I showered and changed and we went to eat at Lauriol Plaza, a place that Sisely kept raving about. The food was pretty good, but the atmosphere was really for twenty-somethings, not thirty-somethings. We didn’t mind though, as we always enjoy our conversations, no matter where we’re at.

We walked back to the hotel for dessert… holding hands all the while. Another thing that I like about FSG, is that he always holds my hand. He will not let me walk 2 feet without my hand in his, or his hand on my back guiding me. People have stopped us on the street to remark at what an attractive couple we make. He is very protective and proud of me and he shows it in that and other ways.

As we were walking inside, 3D was walking in front of us with 2 women. He didn’t see us, until we got inside. I said, “Hello.”, when he turned around and spoted us. He said the same, as he gave FSG the once over. FSG didn’t notice. I gave 3D a knowing smile. It looks as if 3D found something to get into after all.

FSG, and I had a great time talking body talk for the rest of the night and into the early morning. He can appreciate that I am a morning person, and is always willing to accommodate me. And, I so dig him, that I will accommodate him anytime! I especially like his velvet hands against my skin, they are so beautiful to feel and look at. They are instruments of precision! Have you ever felt totally and completely adored by a man? That is the way FSG makes me feel every time we are together, which is never enough for our liking, at least not yet.

Day 5, Friday Morning: The Last Goodbyes

FSG, and I walked around Du Pont Circle to find something for brunch. Then, sadly, I had to drop him off to go home. I know that I will see him again soon. As I was leaving, I got a call from 3D. He was at the airport. I told him that it looked like he found something to get into last night… He said, “No, that was just someone I met earlier. She’s getting married, next month, she wasn’t going there.” I said, “When I said you found something to get into, I was not talking about her pants!” I knew he was just out for booty. He laughed. “Oh. Well, we just went for a walk and then she went to her room, her friend went to her room, and I went to mine. It’s probably a good thing that you and I didn’t get together; it would have been too tempting. We would have gotten into trouble.” “Oh, no we wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have gotten into my pants either.” “I’m not saying that I would have, but I certainly would have been tempted.” He responded. “Ok, I’ll give you that. Yes, it is probably a good thing we didn’t get together. It would certainly have been a tempting situation." I said.

He said, "Well, I have your information, and you have mine, and if I am ever in your town, I will certainly give you a call.” I told him that I would do the same.

Later, I got a text from Cuban Cigar. “I hope you had a “good” night last night. Sorry didn’t get to see you before leaving. Keep in touch.” I will, let’s see if he does.

I look at this past week as a snap shot of what my life could be like, once I’ve positioned myself to be truly free to explore the realm of possibilities. There are lots of options out there for me. I need not fear that there aren’t. If others can exercise the freedom to find what it is that makes them happy, then so can I. Heck, the way I see it, I’m already half-way there, by knowing what isn’t gonna cut it!


Copyright 2006

O.M. The Diary of a Bad Black Woman -Day 4

Day 4, Thursday Afternoon, I Wanna Hold Your Hand

"Yeh, you got that something,
I think you’ll understand,
When I feel that something,
I wanna hold your hand,
I wanna hold your hand,
I wanna hold your hand.
And when I touch you
I feel happy inside,
It’s such a feeling
I can’t hide,
I can’t hide, I can’t hide."
-The Beatles, I Wanna Hold Your Hand

That is how I felt while walking around with Cuban Cigar. It was a beautiful Indian-Summer like day. The weather was beautiful and unseasonable for this time of year. As we left my hotel, we ran into Moe. Moe is an older, white, man, from the South. Yet, despite that, he is genuinely a nice person with a good and giving heart and passion for promoting healthy children-all children. I introduced Cuban Cigar to him, and vice versa. Moe explained that he was looking for a pharmacy but couldn’t find it. Cuban Cigar then told him it was on the corner, and to walk with us and he would show him where it was at. How cool is Cuban Cigar for doing that? Moe was very appreciative, as was I to witness, that type of character.

At first we walked aimlessly toward downtown D.C. The whole time we walked, I kept my hands in my pockets. At many points along the way, I was so tempted to grab Cuban Cigar’s hand as we walked . He kept his hands in his pockets as well. Was it because he didn’t want to hold my hand? Or, was he like me, afraid that it would be inappropriate…too soon? When you hold someone’s hand, you are telling all who see, and that person that “I am with this person, and this person is with me.” You are signifying that you are proud of that. You must think that person is someone pretty special, or you wouldn’t let people get that perception, by being so closely linked (and that is the message the person and passers-by get). You wouldn’t give that perception.

Cuban Cigar is special, but I didn’t know if he was that special, or if he thought that of me. So, while I wanted to be that close to him, I wouldn’t rush things. I would wait and let time tell. Besides, a slow and steady heat creates a longer lasting flame. As we walked though, our elbows kept hitting each other.

We stopped at a perfume store along the way that was closed -unfortunately. I told Cuban Cigar, how much I like perfume, and collected the bottles. He said that he liked it too. Then he asked me if I could guess what he was wearing. He said, “Smell me.” Inside I was thinking, “Come on man! Don’t do that to me! I already want to hold your hand. Now you want me to get closer and smell you? What if my lips accidentally brush the side of your neck?” They didn’t though. I leaned into his neck and inhaled deeply. I couldn’t figure out what he was wearing, so instead I said “Whatever it is, you smell good.”

Then Cuban Cigar decided that he wanted to go visit the new Native American Museum. Our walk was turning out to be a hike, but that was cool. Our time was dwindling down fast. FSG had called while we were en route to the museum, and said that he would be arriving shortly.

On the way to the museum, we walked past the Jefferson Memorial, The Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. Cuban Cigar was telling me about a time when he was there with a friend who had never seen the monuments and memorials before. He said, “You know, the best time to see them is around 3 in the morning. It’s quiet...” “and romantic?” I interrupted. I then said, “I don’t know, I think now is the best time to see them.” What I meant was, since I was with him, and we were seeing them together, it was of course, the best time. My comment was lost on him though. We went into the museum, and viewed the exhibits.

We had to head back. As it turns out Cuban Cigar knows his way very well around D.C. we took some short cuts that turned out to be long cuts going by China Town and other historical landmarks. By the time all was said and done, I felt that I had worked off all that good food that I had eaten during the conference. We hugged and kissed (on the cheeks) goodbye. Sigh, what a great time I had these last few days. But, they weren't over yet.

...to be continued

Copyright 2006

O.M. The Diary of a Bad Black Woman -Day 4

Day 4, Thursday Morning: Time is a Wasting

It was the last day of conference sessions. I was standing in the hallway waiting for mine to begin when a guy named C.B. walked up to me. He asked me why I looked like I was ready to give someone a beat-down? I said “What?! I do not look like that!” He said, ‘Yep, Yes you do.” I said, “Well I didn’t mean to look like that. I’m just standing here people watching and having a good time, thinking I was looking fly. I don’t want to beat anyone down.” We started laughing and he then pulled out his card, and said “Nice to meet you. My name is C.B. I’m a hope dealer.” I looked at his card, and it seems that he runs programs for disadvantaged youth-giving them hope for a brighter tomorrow. I gave him my card, we exchange a few more niceties and he went on his way. After the session, there was a lunch session, and then 1 more afternoon session.

Cuban Cigar had text me earlier, asking me if I wanted to meet him for lunch. I said. “Yes, of course”. At the appointed time, I went into the ballroom to wait by the doors for him. While I was waiting, 3D came up to me to say hello. I asked him if he had managed to find anything to get into last night. He said he hadn’t, and asked me why I thought it was so hard for him. He said that I was the only one that had even shown some friendliness toward him (Yeah, right!). I said "Maybe it’s because you have a dangerous look on your face."

Then I went on to explain what C.B. had told me. 3D said “You don’t look like that to me.” I said “Thank you. Because I’m really a lover, not a fighter.” He licked his lips. “How does one know if someone is looking at him in the hallway?” He asked, referring back to our elevator chat. I said “Well, if you just passed that person, and you see them not 3 seconds later, then that person is probably taking a second look.” “Oh, is that how it works?” He asked. I said, “Well, it worked for me.” He said, “Yeah, but you are all booked, up. You couldn’t do anything last night. Then tonight you said you were having a friend come over, and I assume it’s a man?” I said “You know, this was an unusual circumstance.” Before I could go on, I’d received a text from Cuban Cigar, telling me that he was waiting over by the deli. I wanted to wrap up this conversation to go meet him. I didn’t want to waste a minute of time that I could spend with Cuban Cigar.

I took out my business card to give to 3D and said that if he ever found himself in my state, he could give me a call. Just as I was handing my card to him, in walked Cuban Cigar. I introduced the gentlemen to each other, and then Cuban Cigar and I left to find seats. We decided that after lunch we would go for a stroll through D.C., (until FSG arrived). I was not sorry that FSG would be arriving (Spending time with him is a rarity, and I love it), but I was sorry that I couldn’t spend more time with Cuban Cigar. I think he felt the same, given the message he would leave me the next day.

...to be continued

Copyright 2006

O.M. The Diary of a Bad Black Woman-Day 3

Day 3, Wednesday Eve: All’s Well that Ends Well

I returned to my room after a long day of conference sessions. I had text Sisely, and told her that Cuban Cigar had given me the wrong digits. I told her I didn’t think it was intentional, since he volunteered them, but I didn’t know for sure.

Since I didn’t know, and he hadn’t called me, I told her that we wouldn’t be going Salsa dancing that night. She text me back her disappointment and sympathy. I decided that I would go downstairs to get some dinner to bring back to my room, and would watch a video I had brought-in case things didn’t go as I had planned. It would pain me to break out the video, but what could I do? I went downstairs to one of the restaurants to check out the menu. While there, I saw a couple of people that I had lunch with on Tuesday. They were finishing up their meals. I told them I was getting mine to go. They insisted that I sit down and eat, and that they would wait and keep me company. How dear is that? So, I sat down to eat with Moe and Cynda.

It was during my meal that Cuban Cigar called. He had been sleeping the afternoon away (He’d come directly to the conference from a week of New Years Eve partying.) I told him that I tried to call him, but that he had given me the wrong number. He didn’t believe me and gave me his number again. It turns out that the 4 was supposed to be a 9. He still wanted to go dancing, but at that point, I was too filled from eating to make the moves that Salsa required(a good excuse anyway). We decided instead to walk along Du Pont Circle. He said that he would meet me in the lobby of my hotel (he was staying in another) at 9. After finishing my meal, I went up to my room to change.

At 8:58, I went downstairs to wait for Cuban Cigar. As I got off the elevator, I bumped into 3D getting on it. I said “Hi, 3D.” He said, “How do you know my name?” I said, “I saw it on your name tag earlier today.” “When did you see me?” he asked inquisitively. “I saw you at the conference walking down the hall.” “How come I didn’t see you?” He asked. “Because I am good like that.” I said jokingly. He asked me my name, and I told him. He asked what I was getting into tonight. I told him that I was just about to meet a friend to go for a walk. He said, “Oh”, disappointedly. I asked him what he was “getting into”. “Nothing. I can’t find anyone to hang out with.” He said dejectedly. “I find that hard to believe.” I responded. “Well, look at you, you’re about to go hang out with someone, so you’re not available.” “What are you doing tomorrow?” “Well, I have a friend coming over.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “See! Well, here’s my number in case something should change.” “Ok, thanks. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow at the conference anyway.” I then went to the lobby to wait for Cuban Cigar. 3D was looking quite good, had I not met Cuban Cigar, we might have gotten into something…

Cuban Cigar was right on time(-in many ways). We walked around Du Pont circle. It was a quick walk, so we decided to cab it over to Adam’s Morgan. We found a spot called the Rumba Room. We went inside and had the best Mojitos ever. And, dare I say, the easiest, most fluid conversation ever. We talked for a long time. He is so easy to talk with, so calm and so cool. Plus, we have many of the same interests in common. I can best describe him as comfortable.

We left the Rumba room, and decided to walk back to our hotels. During our walk, we heard music from on high, wafting down into the street. We were standing in front of Habana Village, a small but intimate Salsa joint. We decided to go upstairs and have a look-see. There were only 4 other people in there as they were about to close. We went to the back of the room. Cuban Cigar began to get his groove on. I couldn’t help him with that, I’m afraid. I was too intimidated by someone who knew what he was doing.

He pulled me up from the seat I was sitting in (perfectly content watching him) and showed me some basic steps. He held my hands as he showed me. (Can I just pass out now, and be done with it?) He was getting all technical, talking about listening for the beats, and counts and 1 and 2 steps, etc. He lost me at listening for the beats. He was such a sweetie though. He kept trying, and even tried to show me how to spin. Ok, I can’t get the basic foot moves down, there was no way, I was going to get the spin down! I laughed so much that night. We closed the place down (about 20 minutes after we arrived), and continued our walk back. I told him that the next time I see him, if I ever saw him again, that I would have my Salsa moves down (even if I had to rent a video, cause there are no joints where I live). He said, “You’ll see me again.” Yipeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I asked him if he wanted to come up to my room. Not for sex or anything, just to continue conversing. He did.

I had decided in the past couple of months that I only wanted to be honest, and have honest communication returned to me. I knew that in order to do that and get that, that I would have to reveal more of myself than I am accustomed to. I would have to let people in. That is a scary notion for me. However, this being a new year, what better time to start? Right then, I decided I would test the waters with Cuban Cigar. I told him about my blog. He immediately said that he wanted to read it. I told him that I didn’t think he could handle it. He assured me that he could.

Cuban Cigar said that it would be a good way to get to know who I am inside. He wants to know who I am inside?!! What a concept! Then he did this metaphoric thing with a blank piece of paper to illustrate his point (I love metaphoric things). Still, I was not sure I could reveal, unmasked, my inner most thoughts, adventures, fantasies and observations. I thought of the handful of people that actually new my identity. At least that I knew, knew my identity. If I were to give him the info. he would make the 6th person. (There were a couple of suspects in addition to the confirmed.) Could I do it? Should I do it?

...to be continued.

Copyright 2006

Happy Birthday To Ya, Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Dr. King. Thank you for all you stood for and for all you did for all of us.

O.M. The Diary of a Bad Black Woman-Day 1

Day 1, Monday Eve: The Arrival or, Let’s Get This Party Started Right!


Arrived at my posh hotel to find that my room wasn’t all that posh, but it was still nice, and most importantly-free. Also, it did have a beautiful view of the Washington Monument, and other historic D.C. sites. I Settled into my room, and took a quick nap.

The conference wasn’t due to start until the next day, so I had made arrangements with Sisely to do something in the Adam’s Morgan district. For those of you who don’t know, Adam’s Morgan is a famous and cool street lined with eateries, shops, and clubs of all ethnicities.

Sisely wanted to go Salsa dancing, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Plus, it had been so long since I’d attempted Salsa that I wasn’t trying to shame myself or the dance, by trying to look like I knew what I was doing, when it would be painfully and embarrassingly clear to everyone that I didn’t.

Instead, we went to Dukem’s Ethiopian restaurant. The restaurant featured a live band and incredibly skilled and entertaining dancers. The food, atmosphere, and company were an excellent departure from my normal eating and entertainment choices in my current city of residence. I called it an early night around 11:00. For, tomorrow was really when the excitement would begin, and I needed to be well rested.

...to be continued

Copyright 2006

Scenario: Puedo Tocarlo/Can I Touch It?

The manager at the new video store in my neighborhood is very attractive. He is so strapping and fine, that it has led me to rent more videos, more often than necessary, and more often than I care to admit.

I just can’t help it, he is so damn fine to look at! See, I have a thing for big men, with closely shaved hair or bald heads, and sporting goatees. When you throw in a rack of beautiful teeth, beautiful skin and nice hands like his… well I get to fantasizing all over the place. I mean day dreaming in the grocery store, on the way to work, at work, at the gym, in my bed at night and in the morning. He’s got a sistah worked up!

One day, I stopped by the store, and asked him to look up my video card number. I had my card in my wallet, but hey, it was an excuse to get his attention. He asked me for my Id, and tried to stifle a giggle when he read my name- Tika. “Tick-a?” He asked. “No”, I said. “It’s Tee-ka, the ‘i’ is pronounced as you would a Spanish “i”, and that's pronounced like you would an English “E”. I said it rather cockily. Having had a bit of Spanish language lessons in college-I knew what I was talking about. “Oh,” he replied. I saw that his name was Ricky. I left the video store that day, but returned the next for more videos.

Ever since then we've had a flirt thing going on, and I know he wants me, as much as I want him to have me. However, I am a bit of a traditionalist, in some respects, so I wouldn't ask him out. He’s the man. That’s his job. Now, I understand that women with the stones to ask a man out, have the busiest social lives, but I am not that liberated yet. It is something I am working on though. Until then, I’ll just have to take my chances that I can remain the bait, and be someone’s catch, rather than vice versa.

Anyway, Ricky’s window of opportunity was rapidly closing for him to ask me out, as I would soon be taking a job in another state. He didn’t know that though. A week before I was to leave he finally asked me to dinner. I gladly accepted.

Over dinner, I asked him if “Ricky” was short for Richard. He told me "No.", that it was short for Enriqué. He told me his father was Cuban, and his mother was African-American. “Hablas español? I asked sheepishly. “Si, hablo español.” He replied-a bit cockily. “Oh.” I said, shrinking inside, and thinking back to the lesson I’d given him on how to pronounce my name. “Ooops.”

“Hablo español, tambien!” I said excitedly. I had gotten one of my degrees in Spanish, but rarely used the language. Although I could barely put a sentence together, I was always willing to give it a try, no matter how long it took me to form that 1 sentence. Yep, I am a classic text book learner with no real world application. “So, you’re an Afritino.” I said. “A what?” He asked suspiciously.

“See”, I explained. “In college I did a research paper on Latinos from South to Central America of African heritage . It was then that I coined the term “Afritino” and “Afritina”, and “Afritinos” as a group that combined both heritages.” “Wow, that’s pretty clever he said. “I’m going to have to use that.” “Yeah, it saved me a lot of time typing. I didn’t have to keep saying “Puerto Ricans of African descent, or Mexicans of African descent, and El Salvadorians of African descent, and so on and so forth. My teacher understood after I introduced each region I was speaking about once, from there on out. I got an “A” on that paper.” I said proudly.

Ricky was staring deeply into my eyes. I couldn't tell if he was impressed by a smart woman, or hungry for a fine one. His ebony eyes were piercing right through me, and I became a little self concious. We finished our meals and I invited him back to my humble abode- made humbler by my lack of belongings. Everything was packed up but the couch, the bed, and a few daily necessities.

I offered him a choice of a glass of water or the lone wine cooler that remained in my fridge. He opted for the glass of water, and quickly drank it down, as we sat on the couch. “So, you don’t have much stuff for a woman.” He said, as he eyed my sparse surroundings. “Oh, I have a lot of stuff, but it’s in storage for now. I’m moving in 2 days for a new job in Connecticut.” “Que! Haces un chiste, no?” “No, no estoy bromeando.” I said. “Really?” He asked. “Really,” I said. “I’m not joking. You shouldn’t have waited so long to ask me out. Look at all that time wasted…”

He leaned into me, and pulled me to him, kissing me hard with surprisingly soft lips. I couldn’t help but let my hands roam down his shoulders and across his broad back. Then he asked me if I had a bed. I did, but we wouldn’t be using it. “Yes, I still have a bed until Friday, but we won’t be getting any tonight, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why not?” He asked. “Because I’m not going to do it with you, when I’m leaving in a couple of days! What kind of girl do you think I am?” I said playfully.
“That’s why we should do it. You don’t know how long it will be until you get some again. This will tide you over.” He had a point, but still. “You got a point there, but the answer is still “No.”

Puedo tocarlo? He asked slyly. “Tsk, ah, no.” I said- feigning indignance. "Please Tika, just let me touch it once." MMMMMM! How sexy is a little bit of begging from someone fine? Damn Sexy!

“Ok.” I said, just one touch. I stood up and unfastened my jeans, exposing my panties. He pulled them down, and reached out to touch me there. Then he raised his hand to his nose, and inhaled deeply. “Por favor, otra vez.” I started laughing, "Ok, one more time, but that is it!"

What happens next?

Copyright 2006

Gemini

Hello Readers,

Hope your new year is going great! So much to say, and so much to do. This year I will be introducing a new feature to my blog. Along with my Observant Musings and Erotic fantasies, I will be writing Scenarios. With Scenarios, I will start a fantasy, but you, the reader will determine how the fantasy proceeds. Feel free to share your endings with me, ;O)

First though, just had to take a minute to share my horoscope for January '06, as my first blog entry of the year. Of course, I don't put a lot of stalk in horoscopes, but they are a bit of harmless fun that I like to indulge in, once in a while. This one is from my favorite Style magazine, and goes like this:

"Financial opportunities are everywhere for Geminis, but you have to be alert (especially on the 4th). Beware of an overly agressive competitor who may want to tread on your turf. If you don't stop her now, things may get out of hand later. A friend or family member will have health problems-possibly even a hospital stay-and will need your attention. Be there for them: Karma, in case you don't already know it, can be a very cool thing."

I ask you, how on point is that, considering the year I had in 2005? Especially that part about Karma-love it!

Also, I will be attending a conference in Chocolate City for a whole week! Hopefully there will be some great observations for me to focus a keen eye on. Also, I will be sharing a bit of love that will surely lead to some inspiring fantasies. Fantasies, that of course, I'll have to write all about.

Check out my first Scenario-Puedo Tocarloto tide you over.
Write you in 2 weeks!

Observant Musing-Letting Go, Letting In

I have been thinking a lot lately about the concept of letting go and letting in. How difficult it is, but how absolutely necessary it can be. There are different ways and different times in which one lets go, and which one lets in.

One can consciously decide to let go of their career dreams. Maybe they do this because they figure out that the dream is unrealistic. Maybe the dream has become unrealistic due to time constraints, or finances, or insurmountable obstacles. Maybe people let go of their dreams, because no one supports them in it, no one thinks that they are good enough and they let others opinions of them, become more important than their opinion of themself. Maybe people let go of some dreams because they fear failure. Sometimes people let go of the fear of failure, let their dreams back in, and actually pursue them -quite successfully.

Sometimes people let go, when there has been a death of someone cherished. Even if it takes years, one eventually comes to the comprehension, that the loved one isn’t coming back. With time, and conscious effort, one lets the thoughts of “what if they were still alive, but were sleeping, and we buried him/her prematurely?” go. One finally finds the will to put away mementos and items that remind you of that person, in the back of a closet, that you will rarely enter into. Or, you finally allow yourself to bring them back out the closet that you rarely went into. You come to understand that the person may be gone, but s/he won’t be forgotten so, you need not fear the guilt of forgetting them. Because memories have a way of popping up, when you least expect them, and when you most want them. You finally are able to allow those mementos and memories to come, and to share the same space with you-without crying. You let go and you let in.

Sometimes people are too afraid to let go, and that is really the point of this Observant Musing. When someone obtains a comfort zone, whether it was one created by them, for them, or with them, they are hesitant to step outside of it. They either remember how uncomfortable their life was before they came into the zone -or they forget how comfortable their life was before going into the zone.

The longer one is in the zone, the more difficult it becomes to leave it. Why? Fear sets in that there is no more comfort to be found anywhere else in the world. That is what we tell ourselves anyway. “I will never find comfort like this again.” “I may get close, but it won’t be the same.” We defeat ourselves before we try. We rationalize the best way we can, however we can, just so we don’t leave that zone.

Eventually though, the zone can become less comfortable-maybe not dramatically so, but uncomfortably so none-the-less. Then the zone may become so uncomfortable, that we must leave it, but we still don’t, because the fear of the unknown is far scarier then the discomfort. At least that is what we tell ourselves. We get to a point where we can’t let go, not out of comfort, but out of fear. So we hold on to the discomfort zone, rather than embrace the challenge of overcoming fear.

Why is it that when we consciously think about letting go of a “zone”, we see a lonely life ahead of us? Why don’t we look at letting go, in bits and pieces, like we did when we began to build our comfort zone? Why don’t we step out of, or away from, the comfort zone and let it go, one day at a time? Why don’t we say to ourselves “Today, I am going to let go, and I am only going to think about getting through today. I will not worry about tomorrow, or 10 years from now when I am 30, or 40 or 50.” ?

If we did, the next thing we’d know is, "it’s tomorrow and I have 1 day of letting go behind me". You’d think “That wasn’t so bad, or maybe you’d think, “That was really horrible.” But the fact would still remain, that you lived through it.

After several one day increments you realize that you have a month of letting go behind you. Soon, you can’t remember what was so comfortable about the old zone anyway. But you do remember what was uncomfortable. Then, you realize that now that you have stepped out of the old zone,-really made the decision to let it go, there are indeed new zones to be explored. You may get comfortable sooner than you thought. You find that you actually have to schedule on your calendar which zone will be explored on what date. While exploring the different zones for a more comfortable fit, you accidently happen upon one particular zone that is more like you, and more comfortable for you, then the old zone was. You are amazed that you didn’t even have to change time zones to get in the new zone.

You find that the new zone welcomes in your mindset, talents, and short-comings, because the new zone has them too, or ones that are very similar!!!! The new zone communicates to you and with you, because yes, some zones enjoy communicating. In communicating with the new zone, you find ways to split the difference in short-comings. The new zone starts to feel really good to you.

With further exploration, you discover that instead of being a cold climate, the new zone is actually quite hot! The new zone is looking good to you. You tell the new zone that you are in the process of letting go, haven’t quite done it yet, but that you got the long end of the stick by finding the new zone. The new zone says the feeling is mutual.

The new zone is single and he makes it clear that you can have as much of his time that his schedule will allow (the new zone is a Doctor, so sometimes your schedules may conflict, but he says he’ll put in the effort if you will). You will! You ask the new zone how he can say that after only 2 weeks? The new zone says “A smart man knows when he has found a Queen, and how to keep her. I’m not sorry that your old zone forgot that you were a Queen.” You tell the new zone, “He didn’t forget, he never thought that I was one.” Then the new zone says “I just want to be at the front of the line that I know will form, once you really put yourself out there.” You think, “Well, maybe I won’t need to put myself out there.” But you just smile and say nothing. It is best not to get too excited and ahead of ones self, even in the most promising situations.

A tear comes to your eyes because the new zone apologizes for the old zone and all the discomfort he caused you. The new zone says “Let it go.”, and you do. You cry all over the shoulder of his nice, crisp, white, button-down shirt. And the new zone just laughs and says “I was going to wash it anyway.” Then, he takes it off…

You start to be really comfortable in the new zone. You really start to dig the new zone. The new zone is really digging on you too. The new zone says “There is one thing though.” You panic a little inside. You thought that you had kissed a lot of frogs before to find your Prince. So, certainly this time around wouldn’t be so easy, and that you will have to kiss a lot of Princes, to find your King. Then the new zone goes on to say “You have to quit smoking. Whether we are together or not, I want you to be around for a long time.” Well, Doctors do have a tendency to frown on those kinds of things. You tell the new comfort zone, “I really want to, but I will need a lot of support. I’ll need something to do with my mouth and my hands…”

The new zone laughs and says, “Well, what was that you were saying about the long end of the stick?” The new zone is funny! You laugh harder than you have in a long time, and soaking wet shirt and all-the new zone is laughing with you, not at you.

You say to yourself “Why didn’t I let go sooner?” I was wasting all that time (a life span of time it seems) in the discomfort zone, when I could have been free to let in this really, really comfortable zone.

You figure out that the fear was not that you wouldn’t find a new comfort zone, but instead the fear was- deciding what to do once you have. The fear is telling the old zone, that it is time to leave it-for better and not worse.

You find the words to say that you deserve to be comfortable, and that you deserve to be loved emotionally as well as, physically. You suddenly find the words to let the old zone know that you have faced down your fear. And, you thank the old zone for helping you understand (even if in a back-handed way) what comfort means to you.

However, before you can say all that, first, you have to let go.

Copyright 2005

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