it was just for work

Really.

I met with the TV Producer because I had questions about the film I'd made with my team for the graduation project - legal questions, how-to questions, and wanted him to have a taste of it and see if he liked it.

A few months back, I'd been in his neighborhood and sent him an SMS. He said he'd met someone but would still like to see me sometime. He sent an email a month or so later that he still felt the same. But I was - ahem - tied up with Mr FD, my heart and mind wrapped around our possibilities and, in comparison and context, the TV Producer's spanks didn't seem like they could measure up. Nor did I want to try it.

But here we were. He offered me champagne to celebrate my graduation. We talked film shop and then about our lovers. I felt flushed and drunk, and like he was staring through me as I told superficial details about my homestays with Mr FD.

And then I asked him about Beatrice Ardisson's "Take Me for a Ride" album. I'd pressed upon him that I'd looked all over for the album to buy it, but couldn't find it.

He searched and searched his stacks of discs. We had listened to it every time I was over before, but now, it seemed telling that it was buried or lost or misplaced. He found it and let me burn it. He found the accompanying film - made for Audi - and played it on the TV, giving him an excuse to move from the opposite couch to my side.

When it finished, there wasn't much left to say. He was interested in viewing my film, but we didn't have much to talk about it, except to confirm that my fight for copyright was right (against the director of our program, who all of a sudden seems compelled to share it / own it / have copyright with us).

"Well, I should go," I said.

He reached over. "Let me see the scars from his cigarette burns."

I pulled my left tit out of my shirt and showed him as if he were a doctor, removed from any sentiment. He touched it and reached for the other one. He felt for the scars and rubbed my nipples until they were hard. I leaned back and sighed. Closed my eyes. It had been a month since I'd been touched. Since Mr FD. I hadn't come to the TV Producer's place with intentions of screwing, as I thought he was deep in with this other woman. I wasn't offering a move. I had resigned myself to leaving fully clothed and non-altered.

He put my hand on his pants and asked me if I could feel how hard he was.

It doesn't take much for a slut to get on her knees.

A true gentleman

Me to the TV Producer:
Sorry I haven't replied, schools' been busy.

I could maybe see you later in the summer but I'm not sure it would do us justice. I'm really crushing on this dom in CH and not sure I could completely engage in our activities. But it would be nice to see you again. I'm here past my graduation until at least end of July. Maybe we'd see each other later then?

Him:
Thanks for your mail
i understand and i'm glad for you
maybe we will see eeach othe rlater
take care

The TV Producer

The guy I found via Craigslist, the guy who was into spanking me, the guy I went to Les Chandelles (the sex club) with, is now interested in seeing me again.

When I was in his neighborhood months ago, I sent a nice SMS to let him know I was thinking of him while passing through. He SMS'd back that it was nice and went on to tell me he was seeing someone since January. I wasn't sure how to interpret this but wished him well.

Then, recently:

Him:
how are you cara?
i know it has been a while since we have not heard from each other
i want to know hoa you are and what's going on in your life

Me:
Good to hear from you bello. I'm in the last month of school, finishing up my graduation project, working on papers, etc.. I've been seeing a guy in CH who is dominant and into bdsm so getting my bottom spanked quite a bit ;) How are you? What's going on in your life?

Him:
i would love to see you before you leave Paris or before the end of graduation
i'm fine: lots of work just finished a shooting and starting a new one in June
i'm still with the person i've met begining of the year but i'd like to see again
i'm glad to read that you 've been spanked i miss me spanking you and you blowing me :-)

Me:
[silence]

Him:
how are you?
did you get my last mail?
would you like to see each other?
Kisses

Me:
[Not really. I feel like I've kind of moved beyond him spanking me and "blowing him." In fact, his words felt a bit crass to me. Not that I'm not still a slut and don't, in a context, enjoy reading about his enjoyment of me. I just feel like, well, that's what it was. Even in the giddy photos that I took as he spanked me last (with paddles I brought), there was no ultimate enjoyment on my part. Even at the time, before my plunge into this S&M world, I found myself thinking, "Harder! Harder!" And, even kneeling at his feet giving him a blowjob, I felt like there wasn't any fairness in it (I give great blowjobs and only got half-assed sex) and really was bored by it all. Sure, there was the rush of drinking a ton, dolling up, hailing a cab, pretending I was a hooker going to see him, spanking, blowing, and sex and waking up in a fucking kick ass apartment over-looking the Pantheon. But I wasn't paid for the cab fare. I wasn't paid for the hooker dream I had. The sex didn't even "pay" for it. And the spanking wasn't nearly what I was hoping for.

The fact that he's seeing someone doesn't really matter to me. I've been a mistress before. More importantly is that I wasn't getting out of it what I wanted and was bored.

So, I guess I need to write this to him.]

New photos and words

There are new photos over on Flickr, including the sets:
One-night stand via taxi
"Slut" by flimmaker
The Spaniard 1 and 2
Halloween night and the day after (featuring Tall Tom and a few drunk kids, as well as a few glimpses of school-girl Lola)
Spanking with the TV Producer
Italian playboy


It's Friday and I don't care that it's a weekend because week days have been weekends. I'm home, laundry is drying, and I'm catching up on relaxation, photos, writing, chilling.

I'm not sure if it's that I'm fiercely independent, or so content where I am right now, or that I just don't miss my immediate family, but I saw some photos of Thanksgiving and it looked like snore-bore and yawn and tension - and I didn't feel like I missed anything. I had a half-hour Skype with them before they had to cook the turkey and I ran off to have pasta al dente with the Italian. It made me cringe. My sister has such an expertise at retaining unhappiness and being passive-aggressive. My mother is clearly drowning in suburbia and has no idea how to help herself. My father looked perpetually bored and regretful. And this was just a half-hour, from across the pond, through a video stream. I do love them. I do. But I just can't stand to be with them very much. My dad and I get along the best because we have a knack to cut through bullshit and talk politics, real life, and can be honest with each other. But even he's a fucker - not so nice to my mom always (but they're going on 40 years anniversary so it can't be that bad). And, I'm certainly not perfect in the mix. I only wish I could know what they honestly thought.

I haven't seen the filmmaker in a month. He's out at a 1920's party tonight, to which I was invited and forwarded to him. I need to see him again, but in moderation. There was so much whiskey and crazy Lola.

The one-night-stand guy keeps SMSing me about when I want to hang out again. Ugh. Not with a dude that shows up at the door in his boxers and tee-shirt, with the TV blaring. Yucky.

The Spaniard sent me a short story about him emailing with a chick who wanted him and her boyfriend to fuck her. He ended up meeting the boyfriend, going to the same bathroom stall in a restaurant and jacking off together. He moved further across town so it's not as easy to see him.

Especially when the Italian lives 10 minutes walking distance from me. The only thing is that the Italian seems to be on a rampage. Free from his 3-year relationship (the last 2 years he cheated though), he says he's "experimenting" right now. I'm not sure where I fit into that experimentation, but he fucked a virgin midget. Yes. He told me the whole story after he said he was "experimenting." He fucked a teacher. He fucked a married Mexican woman, taking her ass virginity. It's strange to see myself in a mirror. Although, I know I'm a MUCH better kisser - after the first night I came away with chin rug burn from his stubble. I'm also more interested in finding a rotation of reliable lovers, whereas he just seems to be out to fuck all the women in Paris. He's had at least twice as many lovers as I have in the past month. It kind of makes me feel dirty, which makes me think about my own lifestyle. .... But then, he pulls out the olives, bread, homemade guacamole, wine, and makes pasta al dente. And in the morning he pours perfectly strong coffee, serves small chocolate croissants, and homemade tiramisu. This morning he had to leave super early for work and SMS'd me: "Buongiorno bella, whenever you wake up there is a tiramisù waiting for you. I made it for you, don't disappoint me... baci"

On Tuesday night, Tall Tom took me to dinner. A kir royale to start. I had escargot, he had funny mashed potatoes. Then, he had the veal and I had the salmon. We shared our desserts and had two bottles of wine. 80 Euro dinner. He's very sweet to me, which throws me for a loop. He calls me, tenderly, "silly Lola" and is treating me so nicely, almost like a girlfriend. I'm not sure how I like this. I like the secrecy part of it, as he attends my program, but just started this year so we don't have any classes together. But then, in the morning, he wants me to pet his head and body and wants to roll me over into his arms, resting my head on his chest. I told him it felt awkward.

Strange.

Strange things.

School is fine. It was quiet for the past 3 weeks, which was totally needed. Now, I'm seeing the finish lines for papers and need to get working. In my small group, we've finally figured out what our final project will be, which will involve a multi-national corporation, a European Union directive, an emerging economy in EU, and making an enterprise risk management toolkit to integrate into their plans for expanding their markets into this country. Should be fun! Some travel, some interviews, some work. Meanwhile, I'm also starting the job search. ... Know anyone hiring? I'm really good at ... um... well.. heh.. No, I won't do that. Silly!

Look for my expanded entry on my trip to Bahrain. My bag searched in a Muslim country, me working for Euros, the ex-pat party with gay Saudis, the flight over Iraq, the thousand men and one woman, the camels, etc...

Lola's little adventures

(also posted over on Tumblr - don't forget to check it for shorts)

Thursday: The Filmmaker before he went off to Rome for a 48-hour shoot. Three times. God bless youth.

Friday: Thought I was tired after a full day of lame class, but ended up over at a stranger's apartment getting fucked hard and fast. Won't be seeing him again - he answered the door in boxers and a t-shirt and thought he could keep his big screen TV going. He offered me champagne, but from a half-sized bottle.

Saturday: Les Chandelles sex club with the TV Producer. The premier sex club for the well-dressed. We danced and wandered, but the two rooms of sex were so over-crowded (school kids on holiday, their parents out for fun) that I just ended up sucking him off in a room of moaning and sucking noises. Went back to his place. He had good champagne. And I had my first scooter ride in Paris with thigh-highs exposed all over town. Man, the wind felt great. And in the morning he brought me breakfast in bed, while he tried to figure out why the heat wasn't working.

Sunday (tonight): Booked my tickets to London to see school chums. And then my flight from London to Bahrain to visit the Porn Guy who moved from the Midwest, USA, to the Middle East. We've dated a bit here and there. And I'm thrilled to get to travel to see him.. on his dime. And now, off to see The Filmmaker, back from Rome and needing a blowjob. How much protein is in cum again? Or is that myth?

I have to say, I'm grateful for my life right now. Without these marvelous adventures I'd be a bitch from hell with the pressure of the US elections on my mind, the daily conference planning, studying, and preparing for a big meeting with a multi-national client for my graduation project. I need this multiple, whorish release. And I've loved them each - for their individual qualities. Even boxer short boy - he really shook me. And the taxi rides cut me across town into new realities. Away from my own mind. Out of my own anxieties. God bless 'em, as Palin would wink.

Some stories about men

The Economist Beekeeper Sex God comes to me out of the stars and says he remembers me as there is light illuminating the sky over the Jura mountains.

I wonder why I adore this validation of my existence.

Pienso en vos como veo la madgrugada
Algunas dias duermo contenta en los brazos de un otro
Depertandome con las estrellas de noche autre fois

Otros dias me levanto y veo le soleil de manana
Y pienso gracias a dios que existe esta belleza en el mundo

Otros, miro los aviones cruzando el sol de apres-midi
Con los pajaros volando donde yo no puedo y las abejas tocando lo que yo no puedo

Y les matins that you come to me
And I open my curtains to your soft glow
Pienso autre fois que suerte tengo en ver y sentir y oir
El silencio de lejos
La luz de aqui
El conocimiento de alla
The new day rises again
And you are still with me



I do miss him.
And this is bad poetry.
More than offering a Goggles notifier, Google needs to offer a "You're about to send bad poetry to someone - is this what you really want to do?" notifier. Oh well.

The Filmmaker asked me something interesting recently. Saying he hasn't gone searching for Lola's blog, and requesting me to send snipits here and there, he asked if I had something less individual-story-like and more general over-arching story-like. I told him that's what the book is for, although the book will be compiled and published in probably ten years because the writing goes on and on. No. I don't have anything like that. And that question has been inside me for days. The overarching why. Not the existential "Who am I?" question, but the "Why do I do these things?" question, which leads to the former, I guess.

The compilation of lovers. The list we all make sometimes when we sit down and write all the names or all the stories that go with each lover for whom we've forgotten their name. Why am I attracted. Why do I get bored. What makes me feel like I'm on fire every month and have to hump every man in sight. Who is "Adam" - the inner 18-year-old boy who takes over and makes me want to call in sick to life and just fondle myself all day and night. My ring finger is longer than my pointer finger - which has been suggested to mean I've got more testosterone in my body than estrogen. What does that mean? How does it play out? Who are all my lovers and why do I seek them? If they were all in one room I know I'd look out and try to connect the dots and they'd just be insulted by looking at the others in comparison. There are no answers tonight, only more questions.

The Filmmaker came over late last week after I'd been drinking and he offered to take the cab. We talked and talked, I fired my co-organizer of the conference with an email he helped me write, and then we smoked in my apartment, and then we slept and around 3am he slowly fucked me in the double-futon. Now, the next-door teen girl won't look at me. We tried to be quiet. It's not my fault that the walls are paper thin or that she's disgusted.

This past Sunday I got all dolled up in thigh highs and skirt and went to the TV Prodcer's. We couldn't resist - despite my period - and fucked before we even got to dinner. I'm too self-conscious with him - that I'm smoking again and he's a non-smoker runner. That I'm not cute enough and he could have anyone. This latter is something I felt I out-grew with the relationship with the Economist. .... free thoughts.... I really did feel validated by him in a way. While he's trapped himself in a small town in a land-locked country in the middle of Europe, he's still so incredibly beautiful and relaxed and wealthy and laid back and focused and non-chalont and non-caring and comfortable in his own skin and predicaments. All these things made me feel unworthy and when he gave me attention I felt - validated. Coming back to school, a place that replicates high school in so many sick ways, I felt empowered thinking, I have been adored by someone who really shouldn't even give me the time of day. And his interest - and continued interest - as pathetic as this is, has given me more power. More self-esteem in a horrible way. I recognize that this is fucked up but secretly felt so much more assured walking into the school, being a conference organizer... Like, you all might think I'm xyz, but really I've been abc. And, again, the TV Producer is not a gorgeous stud man, he's not thrillingly intelligent - although, when I was explaining to him how I didn't feel so comfortable in lipstick and was hoping he wouldn't laugh and how I'm becoming more of a woman in a sense, he quoted "Second Sex" and "you aren't born a woman, but you are continuously becoming a woman." But the fact that he finds me mildly entertaining or interesting gives me some sick validation.

So, right, there we were fucking against his wall and then sitting so properly at his dining room table having Italian food. And then discussing art and music and politics like I had not just been bent over getting fucked from behind while my blood stained his shirt. And then, we went to his bedroom and I got on all fours on an ottoman and he spanked me for a good 20 minutes. We ended up in his bed and he snuggled me all night to where I was sweating in the boxer shorts he loaned me. I actually felt comfortable in some moments and then would wake up and need space. He got up and left before I did and I took my time showering, making coffee in his place, looking at the things that were visible to me.

But it's back to Adam creeping into my body and I'm starved for fucking. Since Sunday, which was nice with the TV Producer but I was bleeding which can make the whole scene different. Tomorrow I'll go find the Filmmaker for a short quick 3 hours before he leaves for Rome on the ...

uh oh

distracted into wondering if there's a way I can go with him and skip class on Friday.

trouble.

damn you Adam!