Birthday Bonk Buggers Up

Happy Weekend Lovers!

Or should I say happy end of weekend? Don’t worry, tomorrow is the 31st and the last day of the month always means more sex for everyone! Wait, that might be the first of every month… Either way you’re set for a banging good time in the next two days! Speaking of banging, (or lack thereof) I must tell you of my disastrous Tuesday night.

You all know I really enjoy a good roll in the hay, love it in fact. Take me over your shoulders and strap a saddle on me anytime cowboy. But there are times when even the best laid plans (pun intended) can go awry. I received a call on Saturday night at approximately 3.45am. I was deathly ill so hadn’t been sleeping well anyways so I was awake enough to groggily answer. To my suprise the voice at the other end of the phone was in fact my birthday bonk boy Orlando! What a suprise! To cut a long story short Orlando and I had met at a bar on my birthday, hit it off and promptly shagged each others shoes off. Orlando was lovely. Attractive, polite, and with a cheeky smile to match. I was a little nervous when he told me he was only just 23 (in my experience the young’uns don’t have much technique and tend to jack rabbit you into next week.) But he was lovely and it was my birthday so I figured if the birthday gods were going to throw me a birthday pinata, I may as well take a bash at it.

He was shy, so shy I couldn’t even leave the lights on dim whilst I admired his bod, they had to be completely off. Aww bless his cotton socks. Size wise he was definitely adequate, certainly nothing to complain about, and boy did he love to go down on me! I had to keep yanking him back up to my face to get things started. But when they did it was very nice. Just the type of present I was hoping for that night, and a good kisser to boot. However after thirty minutes of passion my juicebox gave up the ghost and decided she was done.

Ooh so chafey!

Guys in my experience when drunk either can’t get it up in the first place, can get it up but shoot their load in about ten seconds or get in there and keep going and going and going…

Turns out I’d taken the energiser bunny home! I wanted to keep going, I really did! But the sadly the snuffly-muffly, she was all out of love juice and he was scraping the walls like nails on a chalkboard. I called an end to proceedings and we fell asleep. I knew I’d make it up to him in the morning so I felt no guilt whatsoever, just a touch of pash rash.

The next morning and two blow-jobs later we were having a ball. Orlando really was a great guy. He was funny, smart and whenever he said the phrase “You’re cute as fuck” my ovaries squealed with delight. I don’t know what it was, it had just been so long since I’d had a ‘nice’ man in my bed. I knew probably nothing would come of it but I was definitely open to seeing him again. We swapped numbers and he was off.

And then began the texting. We spoke almost every day for the first two weeks and I was so sure we would meet up again, but every time I suggested a time or place he was too busy or was working or was too tired. Now I’m not a desperate woman (most of the time) so I gave him an out, sending him a text letting him know if he wasn’t keen to catch up it was all good. We’d had a good night and we could leave it at that. You could understand my surprise when he texted back saying he really did want to catch up and things had just been crazy.

Uh…. ok then.

So we went back to the texting. Gah it was so frustrating! I didn’t want to text! I wanted loin on loin action! Eventually after literally two months of texting I gave up. He was never going to make time for me. All my friends labelled him a player and that I shouldn’t waste my time on him. So that was it. Done. Move on.

Until 3.45am that Saturday morning.

“Oh sorrry, did I wake you?”

No shit sherlock 😉 I mumbled something barely coherent and asked why he was calling me at this crazy hour. Turns out he thought I might be out and we could catch up. To be fair to the bloke I often texted him when I couldn’t sleep in the wee hours of the morning so it was a fairly safe bet on his end that I’d be awake. After some more mumbling back and forth he invited me to his work function that Tuesday night.

Wha??

I was confused to say the least, but I could feel my cold and flu meds kicking in so I quickly accepted before I passed out and we ended the conversation.

The next morning I wasn’t sure if I had dreamed it or not. That was until I saw his text on my phone. Turned out he was serious about Tuesday. Huh. After a moment of suprise I let myself feel what I hadn’t felt in a long time about this guy; excitement. Meeting had been off the table for so long I hadn’t even bothered to think about it. Now that we had locked something concrete in I had something to look forward to! We texted back and forth over the next few days, telling each other how good it would be to see each other and all the naughty things we could do to each other (ok that was mostly me saying that 😉

Finally it was Tuesday night. The plan had changed slightly in the fact that Orlando was going to come to my house after the function so it would be easier and we could actually chat instead of him being caught up with work stuff. He told me the event finished at 11pm so at 10.30 I texted him asking how it was all going. No reply.

11.00pm – nothing

12.00 – nothing

1.00 – fucking bastard fucking fuck! Nothing.

I went to bed feeling utterly devastated. Was this some sort of cruel practical joke he was playing on me? Why hadn’t he even texted? Was he lying in a ditch somewhere halfway to my house? I crawled up in my freshly made bed in my freshly laundered lace nightie covering my freshly shaved hoo haa and willed myself to sleep.

The next morning I woke up and eagerly checked my phone. Still nothing! Then about half an hour later I finally received a text. Two sad faces and a kissy face.

The fuck?

Was that supposed to be an apology? Luckily before I could reply with an icy answer he sent “So we all headed to the casino after the function, that was at about 11 and we didn’t leave the casino until 4.30am.”

I was furious. Firstly, there wasn’t a single sorry in his message, it was as if he thought he’d done nothing wrong, like he was telling me about a great night he’d had and he hadn’t missed anything (aka the night we had planned) And secondly, we had already discussed the night before that he would skip going to the casino to come and see me. A choice that he made freely I might add. I took a few deep calming breaths (about twenty three) before texting him back “I thought you weren’t going to the casino?”

And what he texted back sent me into an apoplexy.

“I wasn’t planning too but when there were about five maxi taxis waiting for us I couldn’t say no.”

Couldn’t say no? Couldn’t say NO? Gah! I cursed myself for ever thinking he would even think about making time for me. How could I be so stupid? He was twenty three for god’s sake, of course he was going to take the casino with all the booze and babes over me and my nice tight buns. Argh, I hated all men at that moment.

I shot back at him “Whatevs man, (I was trying to sound nonchalant, epic fail) I totally can’t trust you anymore, you completely wasted my night getting ready and looking forward to seeing you and you didn’t even have the balls to send me a text saying you weren’t coming. That’s pretty shitty.”

No suprise he never texted back. Maybe I was a little harsh yes, but I’ve found with age comes the ability to stick up for yourself and say what you feel. The dude had pissed me off, he had ruined my night and what was worse was that he had for a moment made me feel worthless. And that’s just not on. It’s a shame, I really did like this one but hey if two blow jobs isn’t enough to get him over here, nothing will.

Claire xx

P.s In other much more exciting news today I received possibly the best gift of the year.  A riding crop! Squee! I’ve been trying it out on myself but I bruise like a peach! Working on getting the skin all warmed up before the big slaps, that’s the key 😉

Pickup line of the week: My life without you would be like a broken pencil… Pointless!

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But what if I fart in your mouth?

Woah Lovers, what a month!

We’ve gone from a total sex drought to completely breaking the damn! It’s brilliant! Okay so this last couple of weeks has been a little different in the fact that it’s been very orificey (and no I didn’t accidentally misspell officey, this week had nothing to do with staplers and rulers.) Shall I explain in a little more detail? Alrightey then.

As you all know before Salvatore saved me from my crazy stampeding libido things had been a little dry in the sex stakes. However I was Tindering like a mofo. Sadly with little success. I did get one particular match that seemed rather promising though, his name was Ronald and he was very cute by Tinder standards. We started chatting and he seemed like a nice normal guy (very rare these days.) I asked if he wanted to meet up in person and he agreed, just not that week as he was flat out with work. This seems to be the big excuse with online boys, “oh I’m so busy I can’t meet up anytime in the future.” Dude, why you even bothering with online dating? In normal circumstances I would have written him off as a time waster, but times were tough so I hung in there a little longer.

That was until he hit me with “I’m not going on anymore dates this year.”

Keh?

I was completely stumped. This dude was clearly into me, seemed to enjoy talking to me and was very flirty, but he didn’t want to meet up?

What the hell was he smoking?

When I put this question to him he blabbed on with some crap about how he’d had way to many bad dates and wasn’t willing to waste his time on more. Urgh boo hoo princess, drink some concrete and harden the fuck up. This was the point I really should have said see you later loser but again that crazy drought was driving me to extreme lengths. I kept chatting to him and found out he was more than happy for a home visit. He wanted me to come to his house so in his words “I don’t have to dress up or put any effort in.”

What a wanker.

I ignored him for a week. No way was I going to some random dudes house so he could stick it in and send me on my way. He could be a serial killer! Or worse, a Dungeons and Dragons fiend. No, no and another no.

However… What if we had a few phone calls? That’s safe, that’s friendly, that could turn into something saucy for sure. So the phone calls began. I thought maybe I could tempt him into a date if he knew I wasn’t completely crazy but he was still a stubborn asshole. The calls quickly turned from “so how was your day?” to “quick, tell me what you’re wearing!” Then we started the good old snapchat wars which opened a whole new kettle of fish. The dude was hung!

The first snap I got was a video of him wanking to some non-descript porn (the genre wasn’t really to my taste but hey boys will be boys.) He was either amazing at mastering the camera to enhance his attributes or boy did he have a whopper of a wang! I became brave and sent him the odd shower pic (remember never to include the face people, rookie mistake) or a naughty lingerie snap. Things continued like that for a few days before he sent me one that made me question his… tastes.

It was 12.30am on a Wednesday night and as usual I couldn’t sleep, so when my snapchat app pinged to life I jumped on it with glee. Ooh what was it to be this time? I opened it as excited as a kid at Christmas time waiting for my naughty Santa and was very disappointed at the outcome. Firstly, it wasn’t even of him, he just had his phone trained on the computer as it played his favourite porn. Bit boring but oh well. What caught my eye was what was happening in the porno. A very attractive young lady was getting her ass ferociously licked by a very muscly but terribly unattractive man. Geez he sure was going for it! I have nothing against people rimming each other. Hey, rim until the cows come home people, but just don’t breathe on me afterwards. I’ve always been against anything ass related (for obvious reasons) so to think this guy was heavily into it was a little concerning.

I texted him asking if he was in fact a fan and he replied almost instantly with a terrifying amount of enthusiasm. Apparently Mr No-Dates loved a girl to spend a whole day at work or have a massive session at the gym before he whipped off her panties and gave her ass a good seeing too. When I asked why he eagerly replied with stunning detail about the particular smell of an asshole that had been sweating all day.

Hmm, this could be a problem.

I finished our conversation for the night and set about doing some serious ass thinking. I wanted to try new things, push barriers and explore my sexual fantasies sure, but was I willing to be rimmed? I tossed and turned all night, running the possibilities through my head. I even went as far as to take my undies off in the morning and have a quick sniff before I hopped in the shower to see what all the fuss was about.

Needless to say the ‘smell’ didn’t do anything to convince me and I spent quite some time flushing my nose out with shower water. However, I decided to throw caution to the wind and go with the flow. After some serious chats with my male room mate assuring me that everything south of the bellybutton is a turn on to a man with a raging erection I messaged Mr No-Dates and attempted to schedule a meet up. It was going completely against my Tinder rules but I figured we’d spoken on the phone many times and I already had his address and photos of the inside of the apartment so that would give forensics a good start if I wound up smeared across his balcony.

But suprise suprise he was busy! Gah! I was willing to let a man go as far as licking my asshole and he was going to make me wait? Not happy Jan.

A few days later he texted me a very forward message.

“So, you want me to rim you? You like it?”

He caught me on a bad day. I was in no mood to pander to his ass cracky whims so I replied with a simple “No, not really.”

After about a zillion sad teary emojis he asked why.

This was the moment things could have gone either way. I could have said something easy to overcome like “oh I’m nervous because I’ve never done it before” or I could have told him I wasn’t keen on ATM (that’s ass to mouth by the way) and it would spoil the mood if I made him go brush his teeth every time he wanted a pash. I could have even gone the body route and let him know that my ass is anything but smooth and waxed, unlike my honeypot (well, when I can be bothered whipping the wax strips out). I have quite the hairy butt and I’m not afraid to shout it from the rooftops. It’s just like mullets people, business at the front and party at the back. But no, I decided to go with the reason that bugged me the most, the reason that crops up in most of my sexual situations, the bane of my sexual journey.

What if I fart in your mouth?

Seriously my ass is quite the deadly gas chamber at times and there have been many an orgasm I have had to forfeit just to hold a cheeky fluff in. Sixty nine can be a real nightmare and I’ve had quite a few near misses to tell you the truth. And let’s not even go near car sex; wind the windows down people! Enclosed spaces can be dangerous! So you see my issue with someone shoving their tongue right into the abyss yes? His response to my text was word for word,

“What the actual fuck?”

And I never heard from him again.

Bahahaha what a weirdo! I couldn’t believe he was so into rimming and never entertained the possibility that one of his lovely ladies might let one rip right near his tonsils. Clearly that dude hasn’t thought everything through! Luckily I had my tete a tete with Salvatore soon after I stopped talking to Ronald so I didn’t have to pretend to mourn his loss.

Next up I’ll tell you about sex with the ex, car sex with ol Salvi and a possible rekindling with my birthday bonk!

Claire xx

Today I’ll leave you with one of my favourite sex quotes:

“Roses are red

Violets are blue

I’m using my hand

But I’m thinking of you.”

Feel free to use that one in your next long term relationship 😉

Sex on the beach; not just a girlie cocktail!

Olah Lovers!

Apologies for my little hiatus peeps! I wish I could say it was because I was swamped with study, busy saving the world  or stuck under a gigantic pile of male strippers, but alas it’s because I spent most of the past week being a lazy ass and catching up on Bachelor re-runs. My bad Lovers! 😉 But hey, I’m back now and I’m very excited to fill you in on the rest of my night with Salvatore.

So, when I left you last time I had just humiliated myself by taking on the nearest door and losing. After quite some time spent sobbing into the casinos luxurious 4ply toilet paper I cleaned myself up and headed back onto the battlefield, hoping against hope that I could somehow find the video footage of my faux pas and secretly destroy it before it found it’s way onto Funniest Home Video’s.

I sauntered back into the bar with as much grace as I could muster, mindful to go very much through the door instead of the wall this time. I pasted a smile onto my face (wincing as the movement sent pain lancing through my nose) and sat back down at our recently vacated table.

“Are you ok?” asked Salvatore.

Oh shit of shit’s, he saw!

“Who me?” I asked coyly, desperately trying to hide my shame “Couldn’t be better actually.”

“Oh good, because the boys saw you run out the door crying. I thought I was a really bad kisser or something.”

Keh?

Oh my god, lady luck must be seriously looking over me tonight! He hadn’t seen my showdown with the door! Happy days! Because he hadn’t seen I felt absolutely fine to tell Salvatore exactly what had happened. I didn’t care if he knew about it, hell I enjoyed the sympathy; I just hated the thought of him actually witnessing my ass bouncing along the concrete.

After that the night went by in a blur of beer and bruised ego’s. Ok, maybe just ego, plural; namely mine.

I do remember vividly the moment Salvatore asked if I wanted to get out of there with him. It was absolutely perfect timing. At the casino every hour on the hour these massive pillars light up spectacularly with flames all over them. It’s quite the show. So when they burst into life just as Salvatore popped the question it was clearly a sign from above. I’ll probably never forget the visual, him standing there, hand outstretched, the scorching heat from the flames blowing his hair softly (yeah we might have been standing a little too close at that point) and my equally flaming libido leaping from my juice-box to my fun bags, making my nips stand to rigid attention even though I was anything but cold.

Sigh, just magical.

So of course I said yes. If heaven sends you an angel, you don’t turn him down, especially if that angel wants to fuck you. I must give credit to Homie however, damn that girl can scare a man! Within minutes she had everything from his phone number to his condom preference logged away into her phone. I could definitely feel safe knowing that if Salvatore chopped me up and stuffed me into a pinyata, Homie would know exactly where to find him.

So with a fond farewell to Homie and her man, Salvatore and I ran off into the night. Well, we ran to the car anyways. I jumped in and we zoomed off to his house, stopping for wine on the way home. (Very romantic eh?)

As we got closer to his house however, I noticed we were close to the beach.

I bloody love the beach!

Especially at night. I don’t know what it is about a deserted beach at night but it’s got to be one of the most romantic settings known to man. So of course I told Salvatore to pull over post haste. I burst out of the car and ran down to the shore, expecting to feel that awesome beach sand between my toes. But that was not what I got…

Frigging rocks as far as the eye could see! I turned around and raised an eyebrow at Salvatore. Kilometers of beachfront and he pulled up at the rocky mountains? Epic fail.

But no, it was still a beautifully calm night; fucking freezing, but beautifully calm. I pulled my jacket down so it covered my ass and sat down on one of the salt slicked rocks, beckoning Salvatore to join me. He was certainly hesitant, but I can be very persuasive 😉

So long story short Salvatore got a lovely blowjob on the rocks overlooking the bay on a calm winters night. If that doesn’t spell romance I don’t know what does!

After Salvi had shot his load… well everywhere, we brushed off and headed back to the car. I was a touch disappointed as I had wanted to stay but he was getting cold. I suppose that happens when your pants are around your ankles the whole time tehe.

About five minutes later we pulled up at Salvatore’s house and I was overjoyed to see he lived right on the beach! Yes! Round two! We carried the wine inside, intending to have a glass or two before heading down to the beach. What I didn’t expect was to run straight into his mother.

Holy shitballs that was unexpected!

I was speechless. It was two thirty in the morning and there’s this woman perched at the kitchen table with her kindle! I know Fifty Shades can be a page turner, but two in the morning? Come on! Then of course once I’d got over the shock there was the awkward conversation. The whole “Hello, lovely to meet you,” and all that nonsense, when what we were both thinking was “Hello, lovely to meet you, I’m here to bang your son, please retire soon or you’ll hear the whole thing.”

After she scampered away to her bedroom, I definitely needed a glass of the good stuff to regain my nerves. Turned out Salvatore lived by himself but his Mum had moved in a little while ago due to some family stuff or something of that nature. I don’t really know the details as I wasn’t really keen on discussing his mother when I could see his boner.

After a few glasses I suggested a little field trip to the beach again. Salvatore picked up his wine and off we went. As we traversed the steps down to the beach luck struck again. I looked away for a second before hearing a smash, a swear word or three and Salvatore on his ass looking dazed.

The silly bugger had fallen down the stairs! Bahahaha!

Oh god I couldn’t stop laughing, just the sight of him standing there dolefully looking at his smashed wine glass and rubbing his butt made me double over. It felt so nice to know that we were both uncoordinated morons. It was at that moment that a feeling of complete abandon and happiness overtook me. I flew past him and down onto the beach, hooting with laughter as I went. The tide was out and there were small sand islands dotted throughout the water. I dashed through the water to the nearest one, urging Salvatore to follow me.

And follow me he did. When he caught up with me I lunged at him and engulfed him in a kiss. Oh what a feeling! With the sand between my toes and a man between my lips I could do anything! I pushed him away and pranced back to the beach, whipping off my clothes as I did.

“Come and get me!” I cried, wild with beer, beach and of course a bucketful of lust.

Salvatore was beside me in a second, returning my very ardent advances.

“Let’s go home and have a shower.” he whispered in my ear, before sucking my earlobe with delicious efficiency. But I had other plans.

In a second I whipped off my bra and clapped his hands over the twins. I felt his appreciation for this offering in the small of my back. The boy was ready, that was for sure. I turned around and pushed him away again before falling onto all fours on the sand. I languorously started to crawl towards him, a feline predator stalking her very sexy prey. I made extra sure to showcase my butt as I’ve heard it looks quite nice in the moonlight. I gave him a full moon that was for sure. Then I was at his waist, yanking his pants down and warming him up in my own very special way.

He gasped in excitement and before I could do much he grabbed my shoulders and flipped me onto my back with a squeal. (I squealed, not him, that would be most unmanly.) Somehow he’d managed to position me on our jackets so there was no sand/coochie mix ups. Plus the sand we were on was damp so there was no chance of fly-ups. Yay for not having to worry about sand based infections!

Salvatore knelt over me and within a second was going for a home run.

“Ooh you’re so tight!” he moaned

Yes! I thought, that is so much better to hear as opposed to “Oh yeah, loosey goosey baby!”

Although really, all that was going through my head was something like OH MY GOD! I’M FINALLY HAVING SEX! AND ON A BEACH! THIS ROCKS!

Needless to say I enjoyed it. Salvatore was not super well endowed but he certainly made up for it with enthusiasm. My only disappointment was that it didn’t last quite as long as I had hoped. So when said man in question came (all over my stomach) I made a pact with myself that I wasn’t sleeping until I got more.

After wiping down (with his shirt of course, a lady never uses her own garments) I was ready for round two. I frolicked back over to the little sand island, loudly proclaiming how I wanted to claim this land in the name of sex. My partner in crime was not so keen however and was starting to shiver.

Honestly, men are such babies.

I grudgingly let him drag me back to his house on the promise of a nice hot shower. Anything can happen in a shower after all!

As soon as the water was hot enough I dropped my daks and jumped in, eager to resume play time. I lathered him up real nice with some poncy shower gel and then gave him a good scrub down. Ooh yeah, sexy shower minx is my middle name (far too long to put on a birth certificate though, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.) Then it was time for another well timed hand job. And I tell you Lovers, there’s nothing better for a hand job than a few beers. I was amazing! Normally I get so frustrated at myself for losing that super fast rhythm, because of course once you lose your groove, so do they. But damn I was fast that night! My hand was a blur! And not only was I working the wang, but I was rocking the balls at the same time! No easy feat I must say. Hard and fast on one and soft and fast on the other. If you get the two mixed up your man’s in some serious bruised ball trouble. I was a machine! Luckily Salvatore decided to return the favour by bending me over in the shower for a good rogering.

Very nice.

It was only after all this had happened that I realised the shower was right next to his Mum’s room.

Oops…

I scuttled off to Salvatore’s bedroom (which was thankfully at the other end of the apartment) and slid into bed. He followed a few minutes later with a glass of water to die for. Whoever thought of water gets a big tick in my book! Thanks… God?

After glugging down a few litres of the tasty clear stuff there was just enough time for one more round. It was quite a novelty doing it in bed by that point. Although having one of Salvatore’s dog jump up and join in the action at one point did certainly make it memorable.

After Salvi collapsed on top of me once more I had just enough time to thank him for the sex before falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning I woke up to a pounding head, a battered nose and a rather cute dog licking my face. I giggled and gently pushed the little dude away before sitting up to assess the damage. Salvatore had a floor to ceiling mirror on his cupboard next to the bed so I got a close up view of the mess that was Claire. Straggled, knotted hair, bruised nose and no clothes to speak of.

Sexy.

I groaned and sank back onto my pillow, my head protesting the entire time. How hard did I hit that fucking glass? I didn’t have much time to dwell on that though as soon after old Salvi woke up. I figured, hey I’m here, may as well, and that’s how we ended up having sex whilst I watched, fascinated, in the mirror. Turns out sex can look quite nice from the right angle. Then again other angles can rival the visual of plucking chickens.

Not so sexy.

So after the final tryst it was time to head home. Salvatore offered to drive me home (thank god). Sadly I completely forgot about his Mum, so when I stumbled into the lounge room half dressed, it was quite the awkward moment. Needless to say I don’t think we’ll be on each others Christmas card list.

After dropping me home Salvi grabbed my number with a promise of another catchup. I smiled, gave him a quick kiss and hopped out. Even if we didn’t catch up again, he had given me such a great night that I would always think fondly of him. So it was with a smile and a bounce in my slightly chafey step that I climbed the stairs to my apartment, listening as his car pulled away, before ripping off my sandy clothes, falling into bed and drifting into a dreamless sleep.

Ah what a night!

If I could get that every weekend I’d never need a new vibrator again!

A girl can dream eh?

Claire xx

Pick up line of the week: Hey, I’m writing a phone book, can I have your number?

The sex drought is over! Down comes the rain!

Hello Lovers!

Isn’t it just a lovely evening? No I mean really, aren’t things just so fantabulous? The moon is up , the stars are out and yes, you guessed it… the drought has been broken! Ah Lovers it’s such a lovely feeling! Sadly the feeling only lasted the day as I was back in Club X not twenty four hours later ogling all the expensive vibrators. Three cheers for Sexpo and all the $20 sex toys you can lay your horny little hands on! Too bad it’s in November. That’s a long wait. But hey whilst we all wait for that magical day circled in everyone’s sex calender (or is it just me who has one of those?) Let me regale you all with my very suprising and super embarrassing sexcapade!

Like all good sexual forays, this one started at three pm with a coffee with the girls.

Saucy eh?

No, I didn’t think so either, which is why I was dressed in my usual cavalier I don’t care who sees me outfit. Cargo pants, sneakers and a non-descript grey top. Nothing that’s going to blow anyone’s top that’s for damn sure. As this coffee meet was just a few hours with the ladies I didn’t shave my legs, (it’s Winter people, unless it’s absolutely necessary I’ll let those bad boys grow out until Spring) put on just a whisper of deodorant with no perfume to speak of and of course paid no attention to my choice of underwear. What was going to happen at coffee?

Turns out a simple coffee (or hot chocolate in my case) can lead to quite the tryst.

After meeting up with the ladies for a chat and a goss, Kim had to go to work at a nearby bar. I had planned on heading home for another quiet night on Ebay searching for cheap lingerie but Homie my other girlfriend suggested we grab a quick beer first.

Here’s a side note people, never ever trust someone when they say a ‘quick beer’ especially if it’s on a Friday afternoon.

So five beers later as I was heading for the ladies yet again (seriously, breaking the seal early is the worst idea ever) I found myself unexpectedly having quite the fun Friday night. Homie and I had already broken social etiquette and engaged in tipsy texting, sending all my men who were constantly too ‘busy’ for sex ultimatums in no uncertain terms. I was a little worried about this as if they didn’t respond favorably to these texts I was shit out of luck with sex partners, but as I drained another beer I felt all my cares slip away, much like my bladder control. Homie was meeting her Lover for a movie later and not wanting to rain on her parade I was set on heading home when he arrived. Of course, as soon as Homie begged me to go with her I folded instantly. Who was I to stop the fun? Besides, apparently his cousin was going to the movies with them; maybe a double date was on the cards? We finished off another few beers before heading to the Casino where the cinemas were. Homie’s Lover was late so she suggested another beer in one of the fancy casino bars.

And that’s when the night got interesting.

As soon as we walked in and took a seat I spied a sexy bartender. I usually try to avoid hitting on bartenders when I’m less than sober after many a failed attempt and an extraordinarily crazy year of actually dating one, (details of that relationship later) but I figured what was the worst thing that could happen? So I approached, we spoke a little and then I wimped out and slunk back to my seat. Homie was outraged.

“What are things coming to when you of all people can’t talk to a guy? All we ever do is talk about sex and guys!”

I had to admit she had a point, but there is always something so intimidating about a guy in a suit, especially when you’re wearing cargo pants that have seen better days. Before I knew it, Homie had turned to the nearest guy and was asking his advice on how to seal the deal. It turned out this guy she was talking to was part of some juice, shake, diet revolution thing and was there for business drinks with some of his coworkers. Needless to say it was a sausage fest of epic proportions. Ten or fifteen dudes all working hard to spruke vita-cleanse or something. Thankfully they were off the clock so we didn’t have to hear the whole speel. What we did hear though was lots of advice on how to get my barman. After sponging up as much information as I could I leapt up and headed to the bar. I asked sexy barman what a good drink was and he told me his espresso martini’s were the best. Ooh, good start, I thought, he’s making me something personal. I was going to stay and chat whilst he made them but was swiftly rebuffed with a firm

“I’ll bring them to your table.”

Okay then maybe not so positive… I trotted back to the table and relayed the information back to our dating guru. By this time a few of the other boys he was with had joined the conversation and put in their two cents as well. Talk about information overload!

“Ask about his tie!”

“No ask him how old he is!”

“Pfft no way dude, ask him how long he’s worked here for!”

By the time said barman served us our drinks I was so spun around that I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Heya, so you single?”

Smooth I know. I could see all the guys out of the corner of my eye shaking their heads.

Bastards.

As it turned out though I saved myself a great deal of time asking him as the saucy bastard was engaged. Bugger, my dating pool just keeps getting smaller and smaller!

I resigned myself to the fact that all the great ones are either taken or gay and decided to drown my sorrows in my rather delicious espresso martini. That was when I started talking to Salvatore. At first I completely dismissed him as a prospect, he smoked (a big turn off for me) and there was nothing about him I was particularly attracted too apart from the fact that he was dressed very well. But the more we spoke, the more I got to like him for this personality. He was thirty two, loved his job and seemed like a really decent guy. So after an hour or so chatting it was a no brainer for me to pop a mint in his mouth and go in for the kiss.

And it was good.

That’s definitely the bonus of making out with the big boys, most of the time a thirty two year old will kiss you ten times better than a twenty one year old, although there are definitely exceptions. After our little saliva interlude I felt that damned bladder calling out for release again. I disengaged and with a flutter of eyelashes let Salvatore know I’d be right back.

It was safe to say I was riding a bit of a high; eight beers, two cocktails and a kiss, what a great night this was turning out to be! I started to skip as I neared the glass revolving doors of the bar, sex could actually be on the cards, why wouldn’t I skip? And so it was that I was going much faster than walking pace as I slammed face first into the glass.

Oh fuck, I’ve missed the door and slammed into the wall!

My face hit the glass so hard I ricocheted off it instantly, crashing straight into the concrete floor beneath me with a thud. But that thud was nothing compared to the crack my scone made against the glass. I was floored so fast that I didn’t even have time to put my arms out to catch myself, so my head and my ass took the full force of that lovely soft concrete.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, not comprehending what had just happened. Where the fuck did the door go? Before I knew it Homie and some unidentified female were hovering over me. I stumbled up and pushed my way through them to the door, making sure to go into it and not attempt a detour through the glass like before.

HOLY FUCK MY FACE HURTS!

But oh, my pride, my poor wounded pride! It had shriveled up into a tiny ball and was hiding just north of my stomach. How could that have just happened? I ran to the bathroom, tears streaming down my broken face and locked myself in the nearest cubicle.

No no no! My first chance at sex in weeks and I had to try and redecorate the walls with my face! I could hear Homie knocking frantically on the cubicle door but I just needed a moment to myself to figure out if I was in a terribly painful nightmare or if I had really just run full tilt into a wall.

Yep, I’d gone the wall option.

When I finally opened the door I was greeted with unidentified female cooing soothing words at me. Apparently that happened a lot. In fact twenty minutes before I had gone ass up some guy had done the exact same thing. This information made me feel a little better I admit, but boy I hated the designers of that bar. I bet they did it on purpose just so the bored bartenders would have something to laugh at. Oh god! Sexy bartender would have seen it! Oh double god! Salvatore! Sex was definitely off the cards now.

After some kind words from Homie, to whom I will be forever grateful to for being a supportive friend instead of laughing her ass off at her completely uncoordinated douche of a mate, I steeled myself to face the music again. After blowing my nose several times to get all the blood out (didn’t actually have a blood nose but for the next few days my nose was certainly surfing the crimson wave) I decided it was time to head back to Salvatore. Deep down though, I had very little hope he would still be there. Even if by some miracle he was still around and he did see my epic tumble, would he even still want to talk to me?

Slim chances, very slim.

What happens next Lovers? Oh it get’s SO much better! However my head still hurts so I shall continue tomorrow 😉

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: I’m French Horny for your Tromboner.

Dildo wallpaper and banana hands

Olah Lovers!

And happy anniversary! Anniversary you ask? What on Earth are we celebrating? Well Lovers, it’s more in memorium of something, something very close to my heart…. okay maybe about 40cm below it.

My sex life.

That’s right Lovers, it’s officially been one month since I had any! And last time was my obligatory birthday bonk so technically that only counts as half! 😉 I think I officially hit my low point last night when I fished my vibrator out of the rubbish bin and smacked it against the wall trying to smash some life into it. Sadly all I achieved was marking the wall with a dildo shaped smudge and making my hands smell suspiciously like banana peel.

Not my proudest moment I must say.

So after washing my hands for the tenth time I resolved to stop this drought immediately.

And then I got a little visitor.

Ok, scratch that, I’ll stop this drought in five to seven days. 😉

I’m chatting on Tinder, Plenty of Fish and smiling at hunks on the train. Oh it’s going to happen Lovers, whether my next poor unwitting victim knows it or not! Until then however, we will finally put the lid on the Rick chronicles. Last time we met God’s Kitchen had gone awry and yet another breakup had occurred. Would it be the last?

As I had predicted, the next morning was torture. Rick answered the door looking like death warmed up, and I was pretty sure I didn’t look much different. He had been picked up by the police for trying to walk home through one of the city’s busiest traffic tunnels. I didn’t have the heart to yell at him for being so stupid, I just didn’t have it in me anymore. At least I thought I didn’t. The news I heard next certainly got me warming up the vocal chords for a good time. With his head hung in shame, Rick went on to tell me that the day before God’s Kitchen he had been fired from his new job.

And what for I hear you ask? For smoking a bong in the toilets. To say I saw red at that moment was an understatement. I couldn’t believe he could let something as pathetic as weed rule his life. His excuses came thick and fast. He wasn’t the only one who was doing it, he was just the only one who got caught, and he really didn’t want to, but he was having such a bad day and so on and so on. I couldn’t believe my ears. He had thrown away everything. Me, his work and everything else he cared for, just for that temporary high. I hated that I loved him, and yet I still did. And when he fell to his knees and began to weep like a child, I went to him. I held him and rocked him, smoothed his hair and rubbed his back, telling him it would be all right. He sobbed great heaving breaths in and out, a man truly broken, and as he looked at me, we both knew what to do to make it all better. We undressed slowly, savoring each other and each moment, knowing this was truly the last time, and as he laid me gently down on the bed, his hand behind my head, I let a tear trickle out, feeling bereft already that I would be losing such a beautiful person, such a gentle person underneath all the façade. Everything about that moment was gentle, loving and utterly heartbreaking. It was as if we were trying to imprint every detail of each other onto our brains. When it was over we lay entwined, neither of us willing to let go of the other. Rick smoothed back my hair from my cheek and gently kissed my neck before telling me that it was time for him to leave. I nodded sadly, my eyes blurry with tears. He wiped them away and told me that I didn’t understand what he meant. I looked at him quizzically and he went on to explain that he had been offered a job in another state and after the bong debacle he had decided to take it. My shattered heart dropped through to my feet as I realized the enormity of what he was saying. Deep down though, I knew it was right. I would never stop coming back to him if he was near.

The next day, I returned for the final time. Rick was taking the four pm flight and I needed to spend every minute before he left with him. We didn’t sleep together, just lay in his backyard holding each other, staring at the blue sky. We talked like old times, forgetting all the wrongs we had done each other, just enjoying one another. When the time finally came, we parted with few tears. I think we were all cried out by that point. Rick had one request of me though.

“Don’t message me ok?” he said solemnly. I stared at him, dumbstruck. No contact? No nothing? “It will be easier this way.” He soothed. My bottom lip quivered dangerously as I nodded, not at all sure I could honour his request, knowing just how much I would miss him. And so with one last kiss and what seemed like a never-ending hug, Rick walked up the drive and out of my life.

One week later I was a wreck. I missed Rick so much it hurt. So many times I had stared at my phone, wondering if I should text him, just to see if he had arrived safely. Up until that point, I had somehow stopped myself. Stopping myself usually involved a lot of vodka but I figured it’s made from potatoes so it’s as healthy as any other liquid diet. I couldn’t do it anymore though. I just had to hear from him one last time, and so I used the loophole that he hadn’t thought of. He had said don’t text him, but he never said anything about calling him now did he? I smiled, congratulating myself on my awesome intellect. Nervously I called his number. It rang three times before someone picked up. The line was staticky and I couldn’t hear a thing for a moment over the crackle, but when I did, it was a girls voice that issued forth. I gasped and slammed the phone down. Then I realized that it was a mobile phone and slamming it down would actually achieve nothing. After a quick fumbling of the end call button I breathed a sigh of relief. And then it hit me. Rick had moved on. He had a new lady in his life now. I felt myself slide off the bed and onto the floor, a miserable puddle of tears. After two hours of waterlogging the carpet I made a decision. I would be happy for him. He deserved someone to make him happy after what had happend with us. And so I crafted a text message telling him how I was happy he had arrived safe, hoped he was enjoying life there and that I was sorry I had interfered. I went on to say I didn’t know he had a new girlfriend but I wouldn’t be bothering him again and I hoped he got everything he wished for. I pushed send and closed my phone, certain that this was a turning point in the getting over Rick process. What I wasn’t expecting was the almost instant reply.

With a pounding heart I opened the message, hoping it would just be a thank you for understanding text. It was definitely not one of those, that was for sure. The message read as follows

Oh my fucking god. I can’t believe some fucking girls. This psycho bitch keeps texting me even though I told her not too. Can’t people ever just leave you the fuck alone? She’s a self centred, selfish fucking bitch who can go jump for all I care. I hope she fucking never texts me again.

Utter devastation. The message was clearly for me, Rick had just pretended it was for someone else for reasons unknown to me. All I had wanted was to see if he was settling in ok. I realized that I may have over-reacted with the girlfriend comment but surely he didn’t need to be so harsh. He wanted me to go jump? The realization of his words hit hard and I struggled to breathe for several moments. Oh how I hated him in that moment. I called a friend who, to her credit ran out on her tai bo dvd halfway through to come to my aid. I showed her the message, wailing like Dory in Finding Nemo the whole time. And then she did something that I never would have thought of, something that had never even crossed my mind. She calmly took my phone out of my hands and deleted the message. Just like that. She then went on to delete his number and all the messages from him.

“There,” she said manner of factly “now you can start moving on.”

I was stunned. It was that easy? I took stock of myself for a moment and realized that with the message gone I actually did feel a lot better. I didn’t have to read those horrible words anymore. Without his number there was literally no way I could contact him, so there was no point agonizing over it. He was out of my phone, out of my state and now he was officially out of my life.

“Come on,” said my mate “Ice cream run.”

The Aftermath: To this day I have never seen Rick again. I still think of him from time to time, especially when that heady scent of pot wafts past me. I don’t regret him, in fact if I ever do see him again I must thank him. That message was the best thing that ever happened to me. By turning my love into hate, he set me free. That hate very quickly dissipated into dislike, and then dwindled down to disinterest. And let me tell you ladies, disinterest is a hell of a lot easier to get over than love gone wrong.

Tada! The Rickster is officially done! Thoughts? Feelings? Yeah, me neither 😉

Claire xx

Best Bonking song: Bohemian Rhapsody

By:  Queen

Best used: When you’ve got a man who’s a little quick on the trigger, take the pressure off him by telling him he only has to last one song. And then pop this six minute bad boy on. Or if you want to be really mean just throw an opera on. The poor guy will have no idea when to stop. It could be the best ten minutes of your life. 😉

God’s Kitchen gets slutty

No! No no no Lovers!

It’s finally happened! Dear God, I always feared this would happen, I just prayed it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime. We’ve hit def-con five here Lovers. I don’t know exactly what that means but people usually use it in movies when the shit has officially hit the fan. And boy is this situation shitty.

My vibrator died!

Why do you punish me Satan? Why? I swear the tears threatened for a good hour afterwards as I slowly walked the long walk to the rubbish bin. Goodbye sweet Lover, your clit tickling dolphin will forever remain in my memory.

So it’s safe to say it hasn’t been a great weekend so far. Sex free, vibrator free and fun free. Naturally I would normally hit the town and pick up a lovely sex snack for the night but sadly being sick means no work which means no money. Damn you casual employment! Therefore I have plenty of time to write about the old Rickster! So safe to say this entry may be a bit of a long one. Bear with me Lover’s, we’ll try and make it through this drought together.

It was October, and what with all the drama exploding around me I had completely forgotten about Gods Kitchen, a party we had booked tickets to. At the time I bought the tickets they were for me, Rick, a good girlfriend of mine and her boyfriend. Unfortunately they broke up soon after the purchase of said tickets so we were eighty dollars down already. I didn’t want to cover Rick’s ticket too so during one of our ‘meetings’ (aka let’s have hot, frantic sex then have a quick chat afterwards) I brought it up with him and asked for the money. Rick had been looking forward to the event for some time so he was more than happy to hand over the cash.

Just as soon as he had it that was.

I reluctantly left it at that and after my friend found herself a plus one, we were set to go. A few days before the party Rick came to me with an idea. Things had been going so great with us for the past couple of weeks, and he wanted to give it one more shot. Start a fresh, he said. A clean slate. As of God’s Kitchen we would be a brand new couple. I had to admit the idea really did appeal to me. Maybe what had happened last time was all just a misunderstanding? After all, the sex was fantastic, he made me laugh, we could talk long into the night, what wasn’t to like? A little voice at the back of my mind squeaked out an alarm about all the negatives I had just left out, but I made the choice to silence my head and listen to my heart. Good in theory and great in the best love songs, but never ideal in reality. I agreed to Rick’s idea, on the proviso that at the party, there was to be absolutely no drugs of any nature. I could see from his face that this was going to be a real challenge for him, given the nature of God’s Kitchen, (it’s practically a rave) but in the end he grudgingly agreed.

Saturday night rolled around and we were scheduled to meet at Rick’s at eight for pre-drinks. As I drove to my girlfriend’s house I couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that something bad was on the horizon. I shook my head and turned up the radio to drown out such disparaging thoughts. Rick and I were on the straight and narrow now, tonight would be great and everything would work out.

God’s Kitchen is (or was) one of the highlights of the clubbing calendar. It was always held in the biggest club and international dj’s packed the already crowded set list. Trance, dub-step and drum and base were high on the agenda. In fact, that was the entire nights itinerary. No nineties pop or rnb as far as the eye could see. As always there was a theme and this year things were looking bright, with white being the colour of the night. Krista and I had spent hours searching for the perfect outfits and we were ready to strut our stuff on the dance-floor. Of course not everyone who attended was there to just dance. No no, there’s a reason water costs more than booze at events like these. Even as we lined up I could see the usual behavior. A girl with enormous pupils stood to the left of me, while her boyfriend seemed to be suffering from a terrible cold, the way he was sniffing he could have used a Kleenex or six. And then of course that familiar scent wafted through the air like bad incense as people tried to have a quick puff as inconspicuously as possible before heading inside. One guy was even so brazen as to march along the line asking each and every person for ‘bikkies.’ At this time in my life the only bikkies I knew of were made of flour and coated in chocolate. So I did my civic duty and apologized to him whilst giving him the directions to the shop around the corner that sold TimTams. Funnily enough when I offered to draw him a map he refused.

I kept looking to Rick, unsure if he would be uncomfortable in this sort of environment. But every time I glanced his way he would give me a smile and a kiss. What were you worried about? I thought to myself smugly, he’s past that now, he loves you and tonight will be fantastic. As we passed through the doors I kept that thought firmly planted in my head, as if wishful thinking could solve all my problems.

The night did not start out as well as I’d hoped. The dj on stage was abysmal to say the least, so we headed to the bar to drown our sorrows, or at least try to drown out his music. There was no beer available, much to my distaste, and everything was served in plastic cups. Very very small plastic cups. I took one look at my dismal little vodka and coke and knew that drunken dancing may not be in the cards tonight. Especially considering that that tiny offering had just set me back eleven dollars. In an attempt to speed things up we moved on to shots. However, as I was paying for Rick’s drinks (he was being paid next week, he assured me) it was only a matter of minutes before I needed more cash. Thinking to kill two birds with one stone I took a detour to the bathroom on the way to the ATM. As I sat there, savouring the moment of peace and quiet, I pondered how the night was going, and how it could get better. To be honest I couldn’t see it being one of my more memorable nights as I was actually pretty bored already. With a sigh and a flush I reached for the lock and turned it. As I did a searing pain shot through my finger. I yelped and jerked my hand back, wondering what the hell had happened. I frowned as I realized that somehow a shard of metal had actually broken off the lock and ricocheted into my finger.

Goddam it! I sucked on it, hoping I could dislodge it that way, but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge. Great, I thought, the perfect night just gets better and better. Eventually Krista came to investigate and took me to Rick. He took one look at my finger and knew just what to do. I smiled to myself, Rick was always so great when I was in trouble. If only he was so great all the time, that little voice piped up. I clamped my mouth shut, as if that could stop my brain from letting that pesky voice in. Rick led me to the front of the club and within minutes had acquired both tweezers and a band-aid from the first aid team and was working to get my splinter out. In the end the tweezers were so blunt that we had to use a safety pin we borrowed from one of the bouncers (don’t ask me why he carried one, it’s still a great unsolved mystery for me) but finally Rick dug out the splinter, along with half my finger, but who needs details? With a smile on my face and a band-aid on my finger I returned to the dance-floor, where Krista and her new squeeze were cutting it up. Rick excused himself for a cigarette and disappeared. By the time he came back inside we had migrated to one of the balcony’s. He called me but of course I couldn’t hear him over the music so I fired off a quick text letting him know where we were. He called again, but this time I didn’t bother to answer, there was just no point. A couple of minutes later he appeared looking angry. I danced towards him, a little confused by his mood change but determined to get him to smile. No such luck.

“Do you know how big this place is?” he screamed at me over the music

“I texted you!” I yelled back, still nonplussed as to his mood

“Oh well thanks a fucking lot for that.” He ranted, before turning to look at Krista’s plus one “You’re paying more attention to him than me!”

“I’m trying to make him feel comfortable!” I said, starting to get annoyed “He doesn’t know us, I’m just making conversation.”

“Yeah sure you are.” He said darkly

It was then that Nick, one of Rick’s good friends appeared, as if on cue to save the day. Rick was completely distracted from our argument and was immersed in boy-talk within minutes. I breathed a sigh of relief. That was close.

After a time Rick and Nick headed off in the direction of the bar and Krista made a beeline for the ladies. Not wanting to leave her date alone I stayed with him and we awkwardly danced while waiting for the others to come back. Krista was the first to return, and she had a look on her face that was spelled trouble.

“What’s wrong?” I yelled over the throbbing base that reverberated all around us.

“You’re not going to like it.” She cried

“Try me!” I squealed, feeling my fourth jagerbomb begin to take effect

“It’s Rick.”

My stomach plummeted to the floor. God what had he done now?

“I saw him with Nick. Claire, he snorted something.”

I stared at her, frozen in place. She must have thought I hadn’t heard her properly as she continued,

“Well actually first they put it on a spoon and set fire to it, and then he snorted it.”

Prick. Bastard. Utter fucking twat. All these names rushed through my brain in quick succession, but none even came close as to what I wanted to call him. There were just no words for that. I nodded at Krista, letting her know I had heard her, and then my feet began to move. I had to confront him. I had to know the truth. Maybe Krista had seen it wrong, maybe it wasn’t even Rick? Deep down I knew though, of course it was him. I just couldn’t believe he would go behind my back like this, after all he had promised.

I cornered him by the bar. Trying to keep it casual I gave him a kiss.

“Hi babe!” I gushed “Having a good time?”

“Hell yeah!” he laughed “Thanks for this baby, I owe you one.”

Well actually you owe me eighty dollars for the ticket and over one hundred dollars for drinks, I thought mutinously, but kept my smile firmly in place. I stepped towards him and beckoned him closer.

“So you’re not having a hard time with all these um, temptations around?” I asked coyly, waving my hand around at the by now highly buzzed crowd

He looked at me like I’d just slapped him. “How could you even ask me that?” he cried “I do so much for you and you don’t even trust me? Well let me tell you this babe,” he hissed “While you’ve been making nice with your new man over there I’ve been having a drink with my mate and that’s it. Happy?”

“No,” I said, outraged “Someone saw you snorting something. Someone who, unlike you, doesn’t lie. And as you said, I’m trying to make him feel comfortable!” my last few words came out as a shriek as I began to lose control of my tightly wound temper.

Rick scoffed at me “Is that what you call it these days huh?”

“Oh for god’s sake-“ I began, but Rick had hit his limit and was running for the roof for another cigarette. With supreme effort I restrained my eyes from rolling at his childish behavior and took three long breaths. Krista had come up behind me without my knowing and laid a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to face her.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice wobbling as I struggled to keep my tears at bay.

She nodded solemnly and told me she had just spoken to Nick who was apparently as high as a kite.

I told her to go back to her man. After all, someone should enjoy the night. I headed for the roof, my heart in my mouth. He was standing in the corner, sullenly smoking like it was going out of fashion. I walked over to him with measured steps, as though approaching a wild animal.

“Have you come to apologise?” he asked, when I reached him.

“That depends,” I said evenly “Are you going to tell me the truth?”

“What’s the point?” he snarled “It’s not like you’re going to believe me.”

And he was right, I didn’t believe him. His eyes said everything. I don’t think I had ever seen them so glassy. I sighed, and with a slight jolt of surprise, felt tears slip past my chin. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. The worst part about it all was that neither had Rick. I stood in front of him, motionless, letting my tears fall, willing him to say something, to comfort me, anything. But he just stared past me in stubborn silence like a child banned form the cookie jar.

“O.k,” I said after a time, when it was clear he wasn’t going to break the silence “I guess we’re finished.” I turned away from him but he grabbed my arm and yanked me back. At that moment I saw Krista and her man watching from a distance. He was straining against Krista to come to my aid. I smiled a watery smile at the irony of it. Here was my friend’s boyfriend, acting like the man I wanted, whereas the man I used to want so much had turned into the villain. He whipped me around to face him, sending me straight back to the episode at my car. It was like deja-vu. Only this time I wasn’t so afraid. This time I had witnesses.

I became brave.

“I’m sorry Rick,” I said “but it’s over.”

He looked at me, incredulous for a moment.

“You FUCKING SLUT!” he shrieked suddenly, sending me reeling.

(Ooh, capitals and italics, that’s harsh.)

He looked maniacal, towering over me with nothing but rage and contempt stamped across his features. My feet collapsed from under me and I fell crashing to the ground. His words had stung like no slap or punch ever could have. How could someone I love, someone I held so dear to me, turn on me in an instant? I couldn’t think or breathe or even see properly. People had turned at Rick’s outcry and I could hear the high pitched titters of party-goers amused by the nights entertainment. ‘Check out the domestic happening on the roof,’ they would giggle to their friends on the dance-floor. They would rush out and see the girl lying prostrate on the floor with the crazy boyfriend standing over her, cigarette still in hand. And they would laugh, oh how they would laugh.

Humiliation seeped through me as my perfect night, my night to remember, became the night I would spend years trying to forget. I felt arms under mine as Krista picked me up off he damp ground and led me away. I walked in a haze of shame, regret and most of all, despair. In that moment I was sure I would never be the same again. We reached the exit and I gratefully made my way out of the smoke and into the clean fresh air. I gulped in deep breaths, not sure as to why I was so breathless, yet relieved that my legs seemed to be functioning once more.

We waited for Krista’s date to catch up, but unfortunately Rick found us first. Like and idiot, he had jumped off one of the middle balcony’s to beat us to the exit. What the hell was he on? Jumping off a bloody balcony? He stretched out his hands towards me, crying out for us to wait, not to go yet. Krista tried to force me into a taxi, but I just had to hear what he was going to say. I was still holding on to that tiny ray of hope. He ran to me and sank down at my feet.

“I’m so sorry baby!” he wailed “I love you!”

I looked down at him as the tears flowed freely down my cheeks. I should have been angry, furious even, but all I could feel was a leaden weight in my chest pulling me down. I shoved a twenty at him and told him to go home. He pushed my money away, citing his irreparable behavior as the reason. I knew he had no money and tried without success to jam the note into his hands. As usual he was being stubborn and as usual, I just couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let him fend for himself and try to get home penniless, even if that was what he deserved. Eventually after half an hour of arguing, Krista came and took my hand and led me away from him. He would find his way home, she kept murmuring.

I felt terrible, not only for losing Rick, but for ruining Krista’s night. I resolved to paste on a smile for the rest of the night and get through it for her sake. But try as I might, my smile slipped with every step I took away from Rick. I couldn’t dance, I was too numb. I couldn’t even hear the beat, let alone follow it, and so I sat in a dimly lit corner, watching the Saturday night crowd with disinterest, wallowing in my misery. Finally Krista took pity on me and we headed for home. I sank gratefully onto my bed, burying my face in my pillows. I sobbed wordlessly, partly because I knew I should have washed the pillowcases weeks ago, but mostly for Rick. I wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he felt as miserable as I did at that moment. I loved him so much, but he was so wrong for me. At every turn I was being hurt and I couldn’t stand it, but I still couldn’t let him go.

Mid sob I heard a noise and quieted my sniffles to listen in. After a moment I groaned, knowing exactly what I was hearing. At least Krista was getting something out of the night, I thought glumly as the old house began to shake with their drunken passion. I sighed, feeling waterlogged and utterly beaten. Tomorrow I would collect my things again and I would go through the same turmoil I had last time, and the time before that and of course the time before that. I couldn’t bear it anymore. My inexperienced heart had officially given up the ghost and had retreated so far behind me ribcage I could barely feel it beat.

Sigh, clearly the stress of losing my vibrator has affected my writing eh Lovers? 😉 Fear not though, Rick has one more post and then he’s done! Huzzah!

Claire xx

Instead of a pickup line today Lover’s, I’m going to give you a sneak peek of the future! In September there is a fantastic event coming up that I’m so excited about! It’s called Kinkfest and yes it’s exactly what it sounds like. I’m going to immerse myself in kink culture and swim with the leather clad fish! Stay tuned 😉