When in Rome, do as the Romans - when in Minneapolis, do what you want

[New to Cheating Death Once Again v.3? The beginning is a good place to start -- scroll all the way down darling.]


So, elections are over. I was out of the office that whole week and man did it feel fucking awesome.

James and I started our relationship two years ago as crazy fuckers, dating, playing, partying and somewhere after New Years I started to think seriously about trying to call it a "relationship" and talked to him about giving a relationship a good 'ol fashioned try. Well, now we know that I'm not relationship material and I mean "relationship" in the old fashioned sense. Or, maybe even the liberal sense. I started to grow tired and weary of nice, loving sex in the tender mornings after sleeping together. He started to love those moments. I was the one who started the relationship adament about not being monogamous and he's the one who ended up having the "open" part of it all. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. We're still friends and work-out partners. Well, actually, he's been patient and kind enough to mentor me through working out still so my ass doesn't get too flabby. Although, for some reason he keeps telling me to stay home and eat twinkies. Huh. Tomorrow's our 2nd year anniversary and I'd like to say we're doing something together but he's in Milwaukee - no doubt playing with some sweet girl who had no idea what she was getting herself into but totally enjoying it all the same. And, I'm on hour 12 of applications, financial aid research, minor breaks for Mad TV, and a few coctails. Tomorrow I believe I'll continue the work. And I guess that's just the perfect way to celebrate our non-relationship relationship.

Regardless of what is or isn't between us, it didn't stop us from going out Saturday night after the elections. He picked me up and we had sushi. I was pretty sure that there wasn't chemistry any longer but we went over to the pool hall for some games anyway. And, I was still pretty sure that there wasn't chemistry and - in normal, blunt Lola fashion that I thank the bejesus that James doesn't just walk out on me every time - I brought it up. He was kind of pussyfooting around us, around me, around the pool table and I was rather getting fed up with it. I mean, I guess I'd been ballsy of late and rather in control of my own self and making the decisions. He'd been reacting to my decisions and trying not to just explode at me and walk out, keeping it together, keeping it a bit distant. So, I grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulled him to me, and leaned in to make out. We even stumbled back a bit and I think I pushed my tongue into his mouth. There! That's passion. That's what I'd wanted. That's what I was missing.

When we got back to my place we were both a bit snockered. We sat on the carpet and I poured myself another drink. "Where's your mojo?" That was easy for drunk Lola to say, hard for James to hear. But I guess that's what it boiled down to in my mind. Where was the spunk, the heat, the crazed and overpowering lust and domination, the brutality, the control, the degredation?

PDH once explained, "The paradox, I find, as a dom myself is that the closer I get to someone, the harder it is to dom them. It's easy to humiliate and discipline a stranger in a way. Different when you wake up next to them in the morning and make them toast. If you see what I mean. The trade off is that of course, you get to love. And love and companionship aren't a trivial thing. I don't presume to know what you need/want, just I hope it works out for you."

Well, James did not take kindly to me asking where his mojo went, but he swallowed it with pride and courage. And, then took it out on me as I took it out of him. On the bed, trying to tie me up, I was not a limp, compliant Lola. I tossed and turned, kneed and scratched, I twisted and turned, wrastled and wrestled. And he kept me on the bed and forced me into exhaustion and acceptance.

In the morning we both felt better. My muscles ached. I remembered how good it felt to be overpowered by him. And, I think he was able to wake his mojo again.

The next weekend I went to Minneapolis for a conference. Drove up there Thursday with the interns and thought I was going to shoot myself but it ended up being a nice 4 hour drive of fun conversation and jokes. After dinner with all the conference kids, I went back to my room, ordered up a beer, and hooked in the laptop. I guess I've had a resurgance of courage and risk. I decided to un-divorce my sister and told her I was in town and thought she might want to come to dinner with all of us on Saturday night. I was emailing our pal Hex and he reminded me that our pal Clichemonster was living in the cities still. So I dropped him an email to see if he'd be around over the weekend and would he want to meet up quickly. Then, I decided to drop an email to a colleague to see if he was in town, too. Said colleague was, indeed, at the conference and wondered if we could meet for dinner on Friday. He and I had hooked up a few times before although many of the dates ended without any sexual interaction because I was too drunk and suddenly overcome by a feeling of guilt or complication over a current lover. But, now I was free and feeling a bit over-sexed and under-touched. All day Friday, work was replaced by flirtations, accidental eye stares, panty wetting feelings, and trying to hide the unethical tryst. First of all, he's my superior (in a way), a high level CFO of another state's Dem Party, the chair of the CFO affinity group, and a pal to our CFO. Secondly, he's married although technically separated although sleeping on the couch at their place "for the sake of the kids." I'm a whore. I know I am. I know it.

Clichemonster and I decided to meet at 5pm in the hotel lobby. It was so nice to meet him in person, and it really felt very relaxed and comfortable. He had the wrong hotel and actually ran over while we texted descriptions, blocks, and hellos. It was a really quick intro and a brief hug. Granted, I only had 15 minutes to hang out with him between end of conference for the day and the reception. But he thought he'd be available to come meet us out Saturday night. I wasn't quite sure what I was getting myself into - either with this guy who I only knew from the virtual world, or inviting my sister, this guy, and trying to get laid. It felt nice to be a bit overwhelmed and I had this weird energy from god knows where. Like, I could have gone all night had I not had a presentation on Saturday morning. I could have juggled 3 more friends and guys, coulda done coke and smoked all night, coulda spent $500 in a strip club, coulda swaggered in the next morning and bombed the workshop but held my head high in experience. Needless to say, some of that happened, but not all. And I was a good lil' presentater.

I joined my co-workers at a nice 5:30pm reception and ended up wining a case of beer. Fuck, that's right. I won a case of beer. I shouldn't be buying more gin and tonic! Seriously though, I don't drink beer. You want some of my beer? Right, so I won a trivia quiz and got a case of beer. Oddly enough, I had stepped out for a smoke with the tryst man when they called my name. We planned to head out in half-hour for dinner away from the downtown area. It wasn't easy trying to sneak away from co-workers and interns, but I was able to and cabbed it over to the old Loring Cafe which is now Cafe Lurcat. The conversation was work-based because I wasn't sure what to say or how to say it so instead, I probbed and got all the juicey insider scoop we all dream of getting from the boss's boss who has the eagle eye view. It was a fucking fabulous meal and I recommend it to anyone who's on a special-occassion date. I had 2 glasses of white wine, 3 raw oysters on the half shell with mignonette, horseradish and lemon ($3.25ea), and the seared ahi with lemon confit and ponzu ($24.5). I wasn't really paying attention to what Mister Mister had.

After our meal we went outside to share a smoke and I apologized for my previous behavior. I feel like I've been apologizing a lot lately. Even right now, home alone on a Saturday night when I could be getting totally wasted I'm still sipping slowly and not crossing into a wild brink. Even with James on the wicked night of wrestling I didn't feel quite over the drunken edge, although I know was teetering and don't remember all the details. But I apologized to Mister Mister for forgetting a lot of our interactions, conversations, reasons why, and how it happened. He very nicely reminded me of some of the details and forgave some of my idiotic actions.

The bathrooms at the Cafe shared common space sinks and at one point we found each other there and started making out. His hand was starting a rough grope when someone walked in and joked that we get a room. So Mister Mister paid the tab and cabbed us back, asking the cabbie to drop us off a block away. Not too uncommon I'd suppose, but I still felt rather immature. I let him go ahead and waited as he texted me his room number.

Our make-up make-out was rather giggly and rough. After taking off my pants, he instantly rolled me over and proceeded to slap my belt across my ass. Definitely not quite measuring his strength or direction. My ass was stinging and I told him to stop - 1) I'm not a pain slut, 2) I asked if he'd tried this out on his own ass lately. I find it's really not easy being the most experienced, dirty minded sub in the room. This means that others end up tapping into a very nether region of their loins and brains. It means they get carried away and think they have some innate power and strength and command, and they think they can -finally!- do whatever it is they've dreamed of doing or experimented once and want to try again. I'm not an idiot either, nor am I naive, and I hope James never reads this because I know he'll feel protective and maybe even a bit self-defeatist thinking he could have protected me. But I am my own woman and I know how to handle situations. Mister Mister just got a little rough is all, a bit more rough than I was planning. And while his cock isn't nearly James's or (R)Andy's size, it was long enough to make me gag. And he liked that too much and held me there for too long sometimes. I didn't end up tossing the lovely oysters but I did end up pushing back a lot more than I like.

There was sex. Lots of sex. Front and flipped over and on the side sex. And I can now tell between a practiced man and a man needing practice. Or, maybe it's just plain ol' hard to live up to the best -- once you go black you never go back? Well, I've had delicious oysters and it's just hard to be satisfied with guppies. We did roll and laugh and kiss and he told me about his fancy small ipod. I did have to be in bed though. Beauty rest and all...

Don't mind the spelling mistakes, they're not due to drunkenness but to laptop typing - to which I am not accostumed. To James: "I couldn't wait.And Idon't want to tell you about it b/c I don'tw ant to know about your adventures. (I hate typing on laptops Ialways miss the space bar) I hooked up here w an previous lover and I don't knowthat I want to tell you about it.

On theother note, I got to meet Clichemonster in personwhich was cool. He's nice. We only chatted for 5 minutes but I wholly support bloggers meeting in person.

Istill love you and want to be your tying subject and want to hang out but it might get more complicated. Idon'twant to hurt you or make things dramatic or hard and Iknowthey are."

To Lola:

"pretty buzzed.

I just read for the first time that you fucked some guy when I wasn't around. then I called you real quick. sorry to wake you up, but I thought you might be chatty. It's only 12:30 at night. ......

I was absolutely fucking certain that you'd sleep with someone, if nothing else than to further break the bond between us. I know you need separation, and you are going to create it. I understand. It's fine. I'm doing the same thing. The only difference is you caused it and I'm reacting to it, but it all works out the same. We are creating a chasm of sorts between us. We aren't bf and gf, but we can still be lovers perhaps and friends for certain.

you don't have to tell me about your experience with said previous lover if you don't want to, sweetie. although, I'd be curious why you need to hide, and I'm sort of curious if it was kinky or just vanillas.

if you still love me and want to be my tying subject, I'm curious what might get more complicated...
You are not making things harder, or more dramatic, and I mean it. You couldn't possibly be any worse than I am, for god's sake. Just don't fuck any of my really close friends, and we'll be just fine. that's all I ask of you, please.

I won't tell you any more about what my adventures, until I understand where you are coming from.

I still want to know. When do you bleed?
tell me. it helps me understand your mindset, dammit.
I might talk to you tomorrow, but I am rather busy. You have fun, don't worry about me.

dont worry.

fuck

like

a

slut

I love you"

He does know me well. Saturday's to come.....

I'm a crackwhore for Myspace

words heard at a conference I attended this past weekend

photos found on the 'net:

Forced (Sex) Change

[Earlier in the broadcast.]


I hate morons today. Humanz are such morons. Maybe I'm completely anal retentive and think I'm better than everyone else. But it's true. I... am .... not.... a ..... moron. Really. I'm not. I'm too self-conscious to be one. I would never say "um" 50 times in a 5 minute speach. I would never write a strident letter to the CEOs of 5 corporations claiming I supported something that was actually incorrect science. I would never not BCC an email to my secret friend's email address and her parents. Because I'm not a moron.

But there are those among us.

I'd like to see the apocolypse of zombies versus morons. I'd like to see their heads fucking ripped off.



[After a cool down.]


I suppose it's all well and good. I was due for a change anyway. I'm no longer seeing James on a boyfriend/girlfriend basis. I helped win an election. I'm going to grad school. I'm getting the fuck out of this dumb town. I'm going to find a city where I can wear sexy clothes to a packed club and be fondled by nasty people. I'm going to find a dirty nasty kinky strong dom. I'm going to work for the United Nations and wear leather panties under my skirts. I'm going places. I'm going to write a book on a beach of south Spain. I'm going to own a flat on the 10th floor of a grey building on the edge of a park in Buenos Aires. I've saved a ton of cash. I'm going to start dating again. I'm going to learn to swallow all of his cock. I'm going to exchange unpleasantries online to anonymous people. I might even get myself arrested sometime. I can see the tiny buds of balls growing below my pussy. I'm going to re-swear allegiance to the devil. I'm going to get my way. I can not care and it's fine.


[Static!]



Fine. It was time for a change anyway. But fuck you, moron, for forcing it upon me. That's not acceptable. I don't care if it was an accident. I hope you die an unpleasant death by zombie. Fucker.



[Zombies.]



I have a clitoris. It's quite possibly 3-4" long. Deep inside my soul are a pair of steel balls. My pheremones are still "oozing sexuality" but I've come out of this sex change a new woman. If you find yourself into transexuals or translations or transparencies or transnationals or transcontinentals, please drop me a line and ask me on a date.

I am my father's daughter

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo... Lee... Ta.