23 July 2003
34
R. Linda:
Last week I could not sleep. I was up pacing the flat waiting for the kettle to boil when there was a soft knock on me door. Now mind you, it was nearly 2 a.m. on a weeknight. I couldn't imagine who would come knocking at that hour. I called out softly, "Who is it please?" and was answered by me neighbour, Phoebe McGlick who lives down the hall. Seems Ms. Phoebe was not able to sleep either and had taken her Jack Russell Terrier for a wee walk. The keen-eyed Ms. Phoebe had spied me light under the door on her way back in.
I opened the door and there she was standing in the hallway with what looked like a white handheld vibrator. Well, you can imagine me surprise and thinking all sorts of kinky things. I raised me eyebrows and gestured her inside. Now, Ms. Phoebe, as the building refers to her, is all of 36 years of age, blond, not too bright, but a delightful empty-headed chatterbox. Think Nicollette Sheridan look-alike.
Who in their right mind would walk a dog (especially so wee a dog), in the early hours of the morning on the streets of Boston? Well, I shouldn't say it like that, the streets are pretty safe where I live, but all the same, she was dressed in her sleeping kit and that dog would not be a deterrent to any hooligan on the prowl.
Ms. Phoebe was dressed in a filmy night robe, frilly baby-dolls underneath and fluffy kitten-heeled pink slippers, and she was not talking to me, she was studying the vibrator. I was thinking to meself, she doesn't really want me in place of that, does she? I cleared me throat and said, "Phoebe, what brings you here at this hour? Can't sleep?"
Now, Linda, her eyes were nearly crossed in consternation at staring so hard at her battery-powered machine. She gave me a wrinkled nose expression and shook her head.
"Gabriel, could you please tell me why this thing isn't working? I put the batteries in, but maybe I didn't do it right?"
I did not want to touch the thing, but sighed and took it from her outstretched hand. I flipped the battery casing back and sure enough, the batteries were upside down. I fixed them, clicked the switch and the damn thing came to life with enough power to almost knock me off me feet. I gave it to her hurriedly and thought she'd run off to use it in the privacy of her own flat. She shut it off and dug in her robe pocket. She brought out a flat jar and grinning said to me, "Come on sit down and watch how this works."
Well, I was not about to watch her masturbate in me kitchen with gel from a jar and a battery-powered vibrator!
I was shaking me head trying to utter the words, "Out you go, Phoebe," but as I was backing up towards the door, she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the kitchen. Being almost thrown into one of me own chairs, I sat with a hard plop and she sat down across from me, placing the jar and vibrator on the kitchen tabletop! With desperation in me voice, I said to her, "Phoebe, don't put those there, I eat off this table!"
She crinkled her nose in that annoying habit of hers and stated, "Don't worry Gabe, I'll clean the table off afterwards."
OH MY GOD, is echoing around me head as I watch her unwind the jar top, stick the round part of the vibrator into the goo and then hand the thing to me saying, "Ok Gabe, do it for me."
I was frozen. I could not move. My stare was intense and time had stopped along with me heart. In slight annoyance, she takes the thing back mumbling, "Men don't know how to do anything right," and clicks the switch and it purrs to life. She closes her eyes, raising the thing in the air. Me eyes followed it, and then instead of going where I thought it would, she pressed it to her face, and with the look of being pleasured, slattered the gel over her cheekbones, to her forehead and down to her chin.
"Ohhh, this isss nice, Gabe, ohhh . . ."
I was hoping no one could hear her through the door because they'd never believe her moans of ecstasy were from a facial vibrator. I was sitting there thinking, I'm not being subject to the intimate beauty rituals of my neighbour at 2 a.m. in my kitchen. It be all a dream. Then after a few minutes of this, I thought, she's dermabrasioned the first three layers of skin off her face, and she's sitting there smiling at me. I be also thinking, that at least she doesn't need a tooth whitener because the dark red of her face makes her look like she has incredibly white teeth!
When she was done chattering along about how in five more sessions she'll look 26 years of age, she left me.
I hadn't seen her since, until this morning when she was coming in from walking her wee dog and I was going off to me work. Does she look 26? Well, no. But she looks to have a hell of a sunburn! I tried not to look as stunned as I was, and in her trying to get the dog and oversized handbag through the door without getting hung up, she didn't notice me scrutiny of her face. I hustled meself right out the door as soon as she got by, so as not to be burdened with, "How do I look, Gabe?"
I know I be living on borrowed time because I meet up with her frequently in the hallway as we pass each other in our pursuit of our separate lives. I know she'll ask me that question and I am groping, even wracking me brain for an answer that will not be the truth, but not an obvious lie either.
But, her teeth are white! How do you tell someone they look like a pimple ready to burst without hurting their feelings?
Gabe
Copyright © 2003 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Last week I could not sleep. I was up pacing the flat waiting for the kettle to boil when there was a soft knock on me door. Now mind you, it was nearly 2 a.m. on a weeknight. I couldn't imagine who would come knocking at that hour. I called out softly, "Who is it please?" and was answered by me neighbour, Phoebe McGlick who lives down the hall. Seems Ms. Phoebe was not able to sleep either and had taken her Jack Russell Terrier for a wee walk. The keen-eyed Ms. Phoebe had spied me light under the door on her way back in.
I opened the door and there she was standing in the hallway with what looked like a white handheld vibrator. Well, you can imagine me surprise and thinking all sorts of kinky things. I raised me eyebrows and gestured her inside. Now, Ms. Phoebe, as the building refers to her, is all of 36 years of age, blond, not too bright, but a delightful empty-headed chatterbox. Think Nicollette Sheridan look-alike.
Who in their right mind would walk a dog (especially so wee a dog), in the early hours of the morning on the streets of Boston? Well, I shouldn't say it like that, the streets are pretty safe where I live, but all the same, she was dressed in her sleeping kit and that dog would not be a deterrent to any hooligan on the prowl.
Ms. Phoebe was dressed in a filmy night robe, frilly baby-dolls underneath and fluffy kitten-heeled pink slippers, and she was not talking to me, she was studying the vibrator. I was thinking to meself, she doesn't really want me in place of that, does she? I cleared me throat and said, "Phoebe, what brings you here at this hour? Can't sleep?"
Now, Linda, her eyes were nearly crossed in consternation at staring so hard at her battery-powered machine. She gave me a wrinkled nose expression and shook her head.
"Gabriel, could you please tell me why this thing isn't working? I put the batteries in, but maybe I didn't do it right?"
I did not want to touch the thing, but sighed and took it from her outstretched hand. I flipped the battery casing back and sure enough, the batteries were upside down. I fixed them, clicked the switch and the damn thing came to life with enough power to almost knock me off me feet. I gave it to her hurriedly and thought she'd run off to use it in the privacy of her own flat. She shut it off and dug in her robe pocket. She brought out a flat jar and grinning said to me, "Come on sit down and watch how this works."
Well, I was not about to watch her masturbate in me kitchen with gel from a jar and a battery-powered vibrator!
I was shaking me head trying to utter the words, "Out you go, Phoebe," but as I was backing up towards the door, she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the kitchen. Being almost thrown into one of me own chairs, I sat with a hard plop and she sat down across from me, placing the jar and vibrator on the kitchen tabletop! With desperation in me voice, I said to her, "Phoebe, don't put those there, I eat off this table!"
She crinkled her nose in that annoying habit of hers and stated, "Don't worry Gabe, I'll clean the table off afterwards."
OH MY GOD, is echoing around me head as I watch her unwind the jar top, stick the round part of the vibrator into the goo and then hand the thing to me saying, "Ok Gabe, do it for me."
I was frozen. I could not move. My stare was intense and time had stopped along with me heart. In slight annoyance, she takes the thing back mumbling, "Men don't know how to do anything right," and clicks the switch and it purrs to life. She closes her eyes, raising the thing in the air. Me eyes followed it, and then instead of going where I thought it would, she pressed it to her face, and with the look of being pleasured, slattered the gel over her cheekbones, to her forehead and down to her chin.
"Ohhh, this isss nice, Gabe, ohhh . . ."
I was hoping no one could hear her through the door because they'd never believe her moans of ecstasy were from a facial vibrator. I was sitting there thinking, I'm not being subject to the intimate beauty rituals of my neighbour at 2 a.m. in my kitchen. It be all a dream. Then after a few minutes of this, I thought, she's dermabrasioned the first three layers of skin off her face, and she's sitting there smiling at me. I be also thinking, that at least she doesn't need a tooth whitener because the dark red of her face makes her look like she has incredibly white teeth!
When she was done chattering along about how in five more sessions she'll look 26 years of age, she left me.
I hadn't seen her since, until this morning when she was coming in from walking her wee dog and I was going off to me work. Does she look 26? Well, no. But she looks to have a hell of a sunburn! I tried not to look as stunned as I was, and in her trying to get the dog and oversized handbag through the door without getting hung up, she didn't notice me scrutiny of her face. I hustled meself right out the door as soon as she got by, so as not to be burdened with, "How do I look, Gabe?"
I know I be living on borrowed time because I meet up with her frequently in the hallway as we pass each other in our pursuit of our separate lives. I know she'll ask me that question and I am groping, even wracking me brain for an answer that will not be the truth, but not an obvious lie either.
But, her teeth are white! How do you tell someone they look like a pimple ready to burst without hurting their feelings?
Gabe
Copyright © 2003 All rights reserved
