Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
Thank you to those of you who emailed your Giants cheers throughout the series. You definitely made it even more fun for me.
What an emotional roller coaster this last week has been! Sadness and joy all tumbling together. While it hasn't always been very comfortable, this is certainly the stuff that life is made of.
Friday, October 26, 2012
We had been playmates for quite a while, but all that stopped when his wife found out. Well, it didn't all stop. After a few months, he contacted me and we chose to try to keep the friendship part of the relationship alive. That doesn't mean there wasn't any sexual tension or desire to connect in a more physical way, but that we both were at other places in our lives and the friendship would have to do. Besides, a good friendship is something to be treasured.
Over the past three or four months, our communication became more regular and frequent. I'd get an email and a text from Steve every day. We'd talk as often as we could - several times a week - about what was going on in our lives. He helped me get through some difficult transitions in other relationships in my life. I helped him make some sense out of all the changes he was going through.
The last few months for him weren't easy. His marriage of over 40 years was at a breaking point. They recently had tried a trial separation, but he was still unhappy. For the first time, he was seriously considering divorce. If he hadn't passed away, I'm almost certain that he would have chosen divorce in the near future.
He had gone through several bouts with melanoma in recent years and was weighing if he should try another devastating round of chemotherapy.
Just a couple weeks before his fatal accident, he was in a bike accident during a triathlon that left him with a bunch of broken ribs, a broken collarbone and a lot of road rash.There's no way he should have been driving last Saturday, especially on a mountain road, but that's how Steve was. He was sure that he could do things that other people couldn't do. And he was right - most of the time. He went back to work the day after they let him out of the hospital after the bike accident, against my vehement protests. "Would it kill you to just relax at home for a couple of weeks?" I argued. He said, "I can sit in my office as well as I can sit at home. Besides, if I'm in my office, I can talk to you" Of course that made me smile. He always diffused any little bit of annoyance by saying something that touched my heart or made me smile.
He was an athlete. At the age of 64, he was still competing in 10+ triathlons a year. It turns out that we figured out that he and I had competed in the same triathlon in 2005 before we knew each other. That forged a bond between us early on and, when we were seeing each other, I tracked his training and competitions closely. There were several times when I wouldn't meet with him for playtime because I knew he was behind on his training schedule and he'd hate himself later if sloppy training resulted in a poor showing in his next race. He'd whine a while and then we laugh as I came up with an "extra special incentive" for him to perform in the top 5 in his next race. It worked every time. ;-)
His wife was jealous of his training time, and she'd pressure him to train less and be with her more. I never understood how she could possibly act that way knowing how important his athletic activity was to him. His training time was when he'd decompress from work and get to think without being interrupted. It was the only time he was alone with his own thoughts. I believe it is what kept him sane and healthy over the last several years when everything else in his life was blowing up.
His work life was extremely stressful. He was in the mortgage business and he owned a brokerage. The economic events of the last several years had beaten the crap out of him and his business and he was struggling to keep it afloat.
Most recently, he had decided that he wanted more from his life than being trapped in a marriage and a job that he believed were killing him, literally, with stress. He was making plans to begin to phase out his business and go into a completely different line of work. He was demanding more time for himself at home. He was seriously contemplating divorce. For the first time in many years, he started to think about his life as his life, rather than thinking about himself as the provider so everyone else in the family could have the lives they wanted. This third round of melanoma had him thinking about mortality. He wondered when they eventually wouldn't be able to cut it all out or when he wouldn't be able to fight it off. He was already close to deciding that he would decline any more chemo, something that I understood and supported, even though it made me sad to think about the potential of life without him.
I never thought it would come so soon. Neither of us did.
Recently, I went through the many photos Steve had sent me over time. He loved to send pictures. Part of it was because he was prompting me to send some to him, but he also just loved to share the good stuff in his life. I must have more photos of his granddaughter than anyone outside the family, I think. She's adorable. And the look of love in his eyes as he looks at her is priceless. Then there are all his training and race photos. He'd pull out his camera and snap a photo and send it just to share the moment. I often wonder what the other racers would think. People are usually not taking pictures like a tourist during triathlons. But Steve did, and he'd still beat his best time.
When we last spoke last Friday, he was feeling good. In spite of being a little annoyed with me because I wouldn't steal away from work to see him, he was playful as he talked about an upcoming surgery to repair his broken collarbone and his plans to visit with his little granddaughter (born last spring). He was excited as he talked about the next stage of his plans to exit from his current business into something more rewarding and less stressful. He talked about making peace with his decisions regarding the end of his marriage. I heard hope in his voice.
He finished that call like he did every other call - by telling me that he loved me and thanking me for being in his life. Later Friday, I got an email from him with a list of potential times we could get together over the next week, and telling me that he wouldn't take no for an answer. That made me smile because it was so like Steve to tell me something like that. I wrote him back saying that I might be able to make some time, unless I got a better offer from JJ, which I fully expected to get because any offer from JJ was superior to any other. I knew that would make him laugh and cringe at the same time. I couldn't wait to get his reply.
It never came.
Even though he had been writing every day, I assumed that he was just busy with family stuff over the weekend. I wrote to him anyway. By Monday, I was concerned. By Wednesday,. I assumed something had happened, but I thought it must have been related to his surgery. Maybe they moved it up? I waited for a call or an email. Nothing. I sent more texts than were prudent. I sent him a frantic email begging him to make contact. Have someone call me. Anything.
This morning, I held my breath as I Googled him, hoping I'd find nothing out of the ordinary, but the first listing was the news report of the accident. I started at it in disbelief for what seemed like a long time. Then it started to sink in. That's why I didn't hear from after Friday. This afternoon, I called someone who knew him and he confirmed that it was true. Steve was gone.
I've gone from feeling numb to feeling sad to being relieved that he's free from all the awful stuff that had been tearing at him for so long to being angry - angry that he's gone and angry that he had to live his life the way he did. Steve was full of life - active, funny, smart, creative. I'm angry that the people in his life who were supposed to be sharing his life and supporting him were, in fact, sucking the life and joy out of him. And I'm angry that he let it happen and didn't grow some balls to stand up for himself until it was too late.
I know I'm not done feeling this loss. All I can think about right now is how short life is. Steve had all sorts of plans for how he was going to change his life and make it into the one he wanted, but he'll never get a chance to implement those plans. I'm looking at my life. Am I living the way I want to live? Am I putting off changes I want to make in my life? Am I wasting emotion on things that don't matter? Am I spending enough time with the people I really love - friends and family? Am I living as if this day might be my last?
That's the lesson I'm getting right now from Steve's death...and his life.
Monday, October 15, 2012
I had my alibi for work all prepared. I was about to leave the office to meet at the time we agreed, but I decided to text him first to make sure he was already on the road since he had farther to travel than I did.
His reply came back. "Call me."
My heart sank. That's the reply I get when I'm about to be let down and he wants to explain himself. I didn't want to call. I wanted to respond, "No. I'll see you in 30 minutes. Tell me then." But I didn't. I called.
It was exactly as I expected. He wasn't going to make it. His excuse, though, was a good one, probably the only that would have been even close to acceptable to me today. He had a chance to attend the Giants game tonight - Game 2 of the NLCS - and he needed to be in the bay area (with his wife) in a couple of hours to go with the group that had invited them.
He asked me, "You would do the same thing, wouldn't you?" He already knew the answer to that. Of course I would!
But that didn't make me feel any better.
I stayed as cheery as possible and encouraged him to have a great time and send me some photos from the game.
As I hung up, I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I'm at work. I can't be crying over this or anything else right now.
I think it hit me so hard because there's a lot of disappointment in my life these days. Daunt has become more and more distant and what once was the main supportive relationship in my life feels more like an acquaintanceship now. As the distance between me and JJ grows (and the time between our meetings grows), it feels a lot like another friend is slipping away. And that makes me sad.
But I know that all relationships change. That's life. They ebb and flow and sometimes they drift away completely. As I welcome new friends into my life I have to let go of those that want to move away. Nothing stays the same for very long.
So, that was the undercurrent for me to JJ's announcement that he wasn't going to meet me today because he had a chance to go to the Giants game. I do want him to go and I do want him to have a great time. Really.
The good news is that I wasn't dumped for work or another woman or chores or problems at home. I was dumped for the San Francisco Giants and the NLCS.
And I can't blame him for that.
This is usually difficult for women to understand - and live with - but it seems to fit right into how men think.
Most romantic relationships seem to be headed somewhere - to living together, to marriage, to kids, to "happily ever after." Women get out of relationships that they don't think are going anywhere or that they don't think are progressing fast enough in the right direction. Why? We have a biological imperative tick-tick-ticking away. We need to lock in that husband/provider so we can start nesting. Ladies, please don't go all feminist on me. I know that women have many choices nowadays, but biology is biology.
At the same time that women are trying to tie you down, Boys, you are feeling a biological imperative to spread your seed and resist the nesting, but you still want to lock your favorite mate into a nesting relationship. It's a paradox, but its' reality.
What about an affair, though? You both have your mates locked in. The nest has been established. The little birds are being cared for and well-fed. You don't want to rock the boat at home, but you want more. So, you find a partner and have an affair.
It's great at first. After a while, however, the woman starts thinking, "where is this going" and how do I move it along? I think we women start to think that because we're programmed to think that.
Our lovers are very confused by that. "What do you mean, 'where is this going?' This is it! This is great!" they reply. And they are exactly right.
It goes back to the fact that men are much more capable of living in the moment and enjoying the moment for what it is and women are always looking ahead and around us and planning and thinking.
There is nowhere for an affair to go, other than where it is. You have to embrace it for what it is and enjoy it for what it gives you in the moment - or get out.
If you're unhappy because you don't like the nature of the relationship - too much emotion, not enough emotion, whatever - just get out. An affair has to be appreciated for what it is, and it can be amazing. Or it can be a constant reminder of what you don't have at home and what you're missing.
I know it can be disconcerting if you invest any emotion at all into a relationship to know that it's really not "going anywhere" and it could end at any moment. But that's also what makes it exciting to some degree, and it teaches you to truly live in the moment. Enjoy this person on this day.
Abandon yourself to the experience.
If you can't do that, don't do it.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
I sent out a message to about 40 people on Facebook yesterday. Business owners, close friends, family (including Hubby's extended family). It was a plea for a local businessman who has lost his business and his home and is pretty much destitute. He's someone well-known and loved in our community and most people don't know how much he's suffering, so I thought I'd see if I could help a bit.
So far so good, right?
Within moments of sending the message, I received a reply from a friend saying he'd be sending some money to help. He asked for information that I hadn't put in the main message - name, address, etc. And we joked around a bit.
This particular friend is someone I have told you about before - my first online fling. My first phone sex. My first long distance love. I've known him for over 18 years, but we've never met in person, and he's constantly telling me that I owe him a blow job and I vacillate between agreeing that I do and playing hard to get. He definitely wins the award for holding out the longest for a little bit of licking from Kat.
So, as we were "talking" in FB chat, after he told me how much he was going to give to this other friend to help him out, I was so excited I wrote, "I definitely owe you a b-job for this!"
A few seconds later, I realized that he had replied to all in his message to me, which meant that my BJ offer was sent out to my family, Hubby's family, prominent local citizens, my employees - everyone who got the original message.
Oh. My. God.
I tried to delete, but it was too late. I could delete it from my screen and inbox, but not from everyone else's. It was out there and there was no way to take it back. I stared at my screen for awhile. I wondered how long it would take someone to call Hubby about this. I tried to think of a plausible explanation.
So far, two people (one employee and the PTA president from my son's school) have contacted me to let me know that I wasn't having a private conversation like I thought I was. Neither mentioned the BJ comment but I could tell in their tone that's what they were referring to. I'm hoping that most of the others just deleted it.
Now, I wait for fallout.
Oh my god, I can't believe I did that.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Up on Cripple Creek, She Sends Me is Ryan Beaumont's contribution to the Chain this month. I smiled at the reference to Shannon being wet in the water (Huh? Don't worry, you'll get it) and I chuckled when the police arrived. Ok, if that doesn't get you to read this post, nothing will. You'll enjoy it, as we always enjoy Ryan's great stories.
Advizor shares Hot Sex with us this month, too. Here's the little blurb he provided as a tease: "Missionary is great. 69 is fantastic. Doggie style makes me climax the fastest, but watching her above me as she leans back and applies her vibrator to her clit as I fuck her from below is tough to beat. " That's a tease? Imagine what must be in the story!
How about some hot sex at a beach house during a family vacation? That's what Max tells us about in his post Beach House. There is nothing like vacation sex, is there?
Since Ponyboy is our resident faithful husband, I've been looking forward to his contribution to this topic all month! I wasn't disappointed. He shares NFL Widow Reward Follow-Up, a great post that should strike a chord with most of us. I'd say his wife is a pretty lucky gal.
If you've got kids, you might be able to relate to Home for Lunch, one of my stolen hot moments (19 minutes, to be specific) with Hubby, and Vacation Sex, an encounter not nearly as romantic as Max's vacation sex, but just as hot (that's my story and I'm stickin' to it).
Same Sassy Girl doesn't have an entry for us this month, but go read her blog anyway. You know you should.
Please share these posts with your friends and if you haven't already subscribed to these great blogs, do so now.
And come back on November 10th for our next Sex Blog Chain post. The topic for November is Sex with a Politician or Public Figure (or public official). Maybe you'll witness a Monica Lewinsky moment. Who knows? ;-)
Saturday, October 6, 2012
For all of the advice that Kat doles out here and, believe you/me as I write this, it is 99.44% dead-on accurate and true, there is still a bit of ambiguity over how to handle "walking away".
There is PWK and there should be an alternative site called RFP, short for Retiring From Prowling. With Kat as my witness (and confidant), I am trying to walk away.
It is hard.
Not because I'm a sexy man. Not because I am a confident man still plagued with the insecurity or the need for physical passion.
It is because I am trying to keep it together.
Two years ago, I entered this world after years of neglect. Uncertain of what I would find, I enjoyed an emotional, long-distance affair that turned physical before it fizzled. Only her touch, her attention and her desire for me ignited the rocket fuel of male desire within me. I had gone years without being told I was good looking. Years without being thrown onto a bed and having a woman do whatever she wants with me. It was, as if, in that instant, I had left years of being a "pussy male" behind and had, overnight, become the Alpha Male I always wanted to be.
In the despair of the end of the first affair, I reached out to AM. For the ol' timers here, a blog from Riff Dog set out the blueprint for how to succeed on AM with a minimum of mistakes. I delved into AM with the furor of someone learning how to count cards in a casino or study for the LSAT. Within weeks, I had mastered "the game".
Poker players have heard the old saying, "just give me a chip and a chair". For me, it was just give me 20 AM credits and a few hotties within 50 miles and let's get cracking.
This week, I had a bit of out-of-town travel. Lots of time for a man to think. The sheer numbers both made me pump my chest up and also feel ashamed for how reckless I had become. In my two years of prowling, I was truly "active" on AM for about 10 months. In that time, I got nekkid with 12 AM women plus I had two "home grown" affairs where the "I love you"s were exchanged quite often before dumpings that took me months to get over.
One of them I will probably never get over. Home Grown Woman #2 broke my heart and I see it every day. Now she is living with a man 30 years older than I am. Oh... and this old man is also my closest colleague. Our offices are 10 feet apart. He doesn't know (or so I've been told) about the affair but, every time I see the old man in the hours and hours we are in meetings and working on projects, I look at his frail body and am reminded that I wasn't good enough for HGW#2, that I wasn't rich enough, that I didn't meet her standards. It punctures me every day. Every time I watch the old man chug 12 pills throughout the course of the day at the office.
I am just coming off a six-month relationship with a very dynamic woman off AM. We are both influential people in our circles and lead high-profile lives. She also gave me the best sex of my life. Nothing was out of bounds. Yet our affair was very rocky once we got past the third month. Her home became more violent. I once answered a covert email to take her to the hospital after her husband punched her in the eye because she was shaking so badly. So I did it. With love. That's what people do when they care about each other.
I remember Kat writing about how, at that stage of time, an affair really becomes more of a relationship that needs constant nurturing. That means gifts. That means remembering the little things. Last month, her emails trailed off from 15 a day that always mentioned how badly she needed to rip my clothes off to one or two emails a day that could have come from my sister. The three-hour marathon sex encounters were now down to one-hour "appointments" where, once she was finished, the clothes would come back on and I would drive her back to our meeting point.
By this point, it was like I had a second wife who would nag and nitpick me about clothing or if I had an eyebrow out of place. "You know what you should do?" was how far too many sentences from her were starting out.
Amid my paranoia at not getting a straight answer, I went back on AM to "check up" and see where she was. Yup. Same profile from when we met. I know not to expect truth from a fellow prowler and I never tricked myself into thinking that I loved her. Yet the sting still hurt -- even though I was actively looking for a "way out" with her.
After a day of sniping, via e-mail, we met for the "big breakup" in a mall parking lot. She cried a little but, for the most part,this was handled with the same emotional level of calling your car insurance agent and telling him you're not going to renew. I heard the usual "work is so busy and now I feel guilty" line that I had used on other women. Usually when I had a hotter, more adventurous one already lined up.
I am one of the fortunate ones. My family is still intact. Whatever sorrow I feel from the hard breakups is mine and mine alone to deal with. All of the women have, apparently, moved on. I am trying to in my own life as I fill my time with activities that aim to keep me doing good and not self destructing.
Which leads me back to AM. I still have 45 credits left. I am SO good at the AM game. I sent out 5 messages and have had 4 responses, my usual 80-90% response clip. Only, this time, my heart just isn't into it. I've experienced the best of prowling over the past two years. Showers, threesomes, anal exploration, discovering and uncovering my desired level of kink and having it met, spanking, bending beautiful women over soft couches and thrusting them until can't stop farting because they have lost total control. (yes, that is a proud accomplishment).
Only it turned out to be empty. Once the burst is done and the last kiss of an encounter is over, the same thought flies through my head. How do I get rid of her for good? Stay "home" is getting better? How many more times must I keep taking chances that I won't be spotted leaving a hotel or having a beautiful women in the passenger seat of my car in my neighborhood? When does it end?
Prowling does lead to pussy and, eventually, paranoia for the careful ones. For me, though, the paranoia has nearly destroyed all of the peaceful elements of my life. I gotta get a grip.
Be well and be safe, fellow Prowlers.
I knew I was in trouble when I got onto the rental car shuttle and sat down. I made eye contact with the businessman sitting right across from me and I felt that little twitch "down there." When business goes well for me, I get horny. Very horny. And this 40-something businessman with no luggage (just an iPad in his hand) and a disarming, polite smile triggered it. I actually gasped when I felt it because I knew that I'd be fighting the urge to find someone to fuck for the next several hours.
The worse part was that not only did I have desire, but I had opportunity. How easy it would be to find a lonely, anonymous traveler with a few hours to kill who would be interested in disappearing for an hour or two.
Of course, now the whole people watching dynamic was changed for me. Every man I saw would be assessed for that potential. As I negotiated the crowd in the terminal, I was scanning for men traveling alone. At one point I chuckled at myself out loud. This kind of pussy-driven predatory behavior is not my style, but I'll admit that there is something invigorating about the hunt, the pursuit, and the capture.
As I focused on men traveling alone, I realized that they were everywhere! I could easily eliminate the ones with too much luggage and the ones rushing through the terminal.
Halfway to my gate, I realized I was hungry, so I stopped at a sandwich shop and ordered something. I took a seat in the corner of the shop, facing the walkway. I started eating my sandwich while I checked email and, for a few minutes, my mind drifted away from my...uh...need, and my brain took over again, reminding me that it would be just silly to pick up a total stranger and head to a hotel. What was I thinking?
Then I heard a voice ask if he could join me. I looked up and the whole shop was full, but I was alone at a table for two. Standing in front of me was a very attractive 50-ish man holding only a computer case.
"Sure," I said. Am I sending out some signal? I wondered. But here's the honest truth. It would have been easy to snare that one. Heck, he's the fish who just jumped into my boat. Unfortunately for him, his timing sucked. Why? Because I had been on a strict, low-carb diet for the last six months, and at that exact moment, I was halfway through the most delicious, heavenly, high-carb, high fat sandwich I think I've ever had in my life (ok, that's an exaggeration, but you get the point, right?). Not only that, but that sandwich would probably be the only bread I'd eat for the next several months. His dick could not possibly be as satisfying as that carbo-fiesta in front of me. And he was annoying me by interrupting me and trying to ruin the moment.
Let me say here that I understand this is completely dysfunctional, but if you are surprised by this you haven't been reading PWK for very long. Which is worse, my obsession with men or my obsession with carbs? All I can tell you is that I pretty much stuck to my low carb diet perfectly for six months. The longest I've gone without sex with a man other than my husband has been...well....not nearly as long.
But I digress.....again.....
So, I finished my sandwich, making small talk with that guy and nursing my resentment for the interloper and got out of there as soon as I was done. I headed down the terminal, toward my gate. I noticed the baseball game on at one of the TVs I passed along the way. It was time to find a place near my gate to watch the game. Hopefully, there'd be a sports bar or someplace like that where I could relax comfortably.
As I walked, the twitch started coming back. I started noticing the men again. Damn, I thought, that carb high didn't last long.
I found a bar with the game on and looked around for a place to sit.
A woman experienced at traveling alone knows how to pick the right situation based on her mood. For example, when I don't want to talk to anyone or be bothered, I pick a table for two in the back or on the periphery of the place, open my computer or a book and relocate the second chair to another table. That, by the way, was the mistake I made at the sandwich place. I didn't move the empty chair away. That chair was an invitation for someone to join me. If I am open to some companionship, I leave the chair and turn it so it is facing out a bit, inviting someone to use it, and I won't pull out a book. If I want some one-on-one conversation, I sit at the bar. If I want some fun socialization, I either join a large table of people or sit alone at a large table, knowing that it will fill in as they place gets more crowded.
So, I noticed a large table right up front by the TV with 6 men sitting there. They didn't appear to be traveling together as they represented a range of ages, social status, and ethnicity. They had only two things in common - they were men and they were seriously into that baseball game. And there were two seats still available at that table. I walked up to the table and took one of those seats - without asking, of course. Two of the men stood up for me. How sweet. The others didn't even look away from the game. I ordered a soda and made myself comfortable.
Soon, I started jumping into the conversations that popped up about the game. The last seat at the table was taken quickly by another man. Within 30 minutes, the place was packed to standing room only and the cheers were louder, the boos were more vehement, and conversations were flying all over about what was going on in the game, player stats, and the stupid new 1 game wildcard playoff thing. Our little table of 8 had become a table of about 12 as several other guys pulled chairs up. Introductions were made all around.
This is one of the things I love about men. They can come together as strangers over something they have in common, get to know each other, and have a great time without any angst about the fact that they'll never see each other again or jealousy over what one is wearing or whatever. It's the purest form of human interaction and camaraderie that there is. Women can get together and socialize on the fly, but the feel is completely different. There's holding back. There's a note of distrust or the feeling that "you know you're not really my friend, right?" We're usually distracted by other thoughts - children, spouses, responsibilities, how we look. We have one hell of a hard time just enjoying the moment. In the bar, watching the game, was the perfect example of how men can totally enjoy a moment. I love that!
Then it hit me. I was the sole woman in a lair of men. I hadn't really noticed it before because I was just so completely comfortable. Ultimately, that was my tip off.
The guy sitting next to me asked what I was drinking and offered to buy me another. When I told him it was soda he laughed and tried to talk me into something stronger. I politely declined, thinking, Honey, I don't have to be drunk to fuck a stranger.
All of the conversation focused on the game. In between innings we all talked about happened at the St. Louis-Atlanta game. Smart phones and iPads came out, videos were queued up and shared. The debate about the appropriate application of the infield fly rule was on. I was amazed at how few of them really understood the rule so I stood up and outshouted them (because accuracy matters in a conversation about baseball) to tell them what the infield fly rule said, why it was created, and how it might and might not apply in this situation. A hush came over the table as 12 men were staring at me. Then one of them,looking down at his iPad, said, "Yeah, that's almost verbatim what the MLB says the rule is." I looked at him and smiled in a sense of mock disbelief that he would question me. "You're fuckin' right it is, " I said. We all laughed and then I sat down and turned toward the TV because the Baltimore game was back on.
I felt his stare from behind me about 8 feet away. I turned saw the guy from the sandwich shop. He smiled and waved. I returned his smile, but he wasn't the one I was feeling. Next to him was a guy in a suit, tie loosened, top button undone, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, beer in his hand. He looked like he was about 40, but it was hard to tell. He had black hair with just a little grey, and he wore a wedding ring. He lifted his glass about 2 inches and nodded his head very slightly as a greeting. It was such a contrast to Sandwich Shop Guy's enthusiastic wave. It was much more intriguing, more inviting. Guys, remember this - less is more, ok?
I turned back around to the game, laughed with my new found buddies, and let somebody else buy me another soda. Soon the game ended and we all stood to split up and go our separate ways. Since we were so close to my gate, I suspected that some of these guys would be on my plane. It turns out that four of them were.
As I walked out of the bar, I decided to find a restroom because I only had 30 minutes until it would be time to board. The closest restroom happened to be the one way down at the end of the terminal. It was late enough that that end of the terminal was empty. Clearly no more flights would be leaving from there so it was like walking through an empty terminal.
I heard someone walking behind me at a faster pace than I was walking, which was not surprising because I was meandering more than walking, but I didn't look back. I felt safe. There was no need to look back. Soon, the mystery man from the bar fell into step right next to me.
"Are you headed to XYZ, too?" he asked.
"Yes, I am," I answered, without elaboration.
"I was watching you in the bar," he said.
"You seem to know a lot about baseball." He smiled the most gorgeous big smile.
My internal dialogue kicked in. No, Kat! Don't do it! You made it through three and a half hours without giving in to that urge. Just walk away.
I replied, "I know lots of things."
Goddammit, Kat. Well, as long as you're here, you might as well do it.
"Oh?" he whispered.
I stopped and turned toward him and took a step closer, completely erasing that comfort distance that you keep between yourself and strangers. I looked up at him and said, "Yup."
"Any things that you could show me?" he asked.
I just nodded my head, maintaining eye contact.
He took a step back, clearly nervous and not prepared for the response he got. He introduced himself and pulled out his card, handing it to me. I didn't even look at it before I slipped it into my bag. I still didn't say anything. He asked my name and I handed him my card. He looked at it, and started talking nervously.
It was obvious to me that this guy wasn't going to be able to close the deal, so I turned and started walking toward the restroom again, this time moving faster. He kept up.
"So, tell me something you know," he said.
Two competing Kats were speaking up in my head:
Good girl Kat: I know that we're going to miss our flight if we don't hurry.
Bad girl Kat: I know that I'm really horny and I could use a quickie in one the stalls in this empty restroom.
Here's what came out of my mouth:
"I know that I'm really horny and I could use a quickie in one the stalls in this empty restroom, but I also know that we're going to miss our flight if we don't hurry." And I walked into the restroom.
He said, "Wait!" and took a step in after me, but then he stopped. I shook my head. I was right. He can't close the deal. Some men are just like that. They want to do the naughty, impulsive thing. They fantasize about doing it, but when the moment is actually there, they can't. They stop at the door and wait.
As I was "doing my business" in the restroom, I realized I was grateful that he couldn't do it. Why? Because my body wanted it, but my head really didn't. I know most of you guys can relate to that. Things are going great at home and I have another Sweetie in my life of whom I'm very fond. I don't want to screw any of that up. I have no time or real desire for another lover at this time and because this guy is local, it's likely that this wouldn't have been a one-time thing. Yes, I decided it was good thing that he couldn't or didn't want to go through with it.
I came out of the restroom (after washing my hands thoroughly, of course, with soap and hot water) and he was still there. That surprised me a little.
He said, "They called our flight."
"See?" I replied. "I told you we'd have to hurry."
He smiled and nodded and we made small talk as we made our way back to the gate.
I got in the boarding line with the other three baseball buddies from the bar. They were still talking about the game and the infield fly rule. One of them asked how I knew so much about the game. I explained how I grew up around baseball, raised with all brothers and male cousins, played for years....blah, blah, blah. Baseball, you see, is not just a game. It's a lifestyle, a life perspective, a metaphor for living, almost a spiritual journey. Some people get it. Some people don't.
I boarded the plane first and took a window seat. My wimpy "almost-got-a helluva-fuck-in-the-ladies-room" friend chose the aisle seat in my row, leaving the seat between us open. As the flight was boarding he leaned over and whispered, "Can I call you?"
"Sure," I said, fully aware that he probably won't, but now I'll own his mind for as long as he struggles with the dilemma and that thought gives me some pleasure. Yeah, I know. That's bad, huh?
The flight was quiet and uneventful. It was a late night flight, so there was little conversation. People were reading or sleeping.
When we got off the plane. I saw his wife greet him. He gave her a hug and then turned back to me and gave me that slight head nod again. Damn, that was so cool. He's definitely a very cool geek, I thought.
I have a soft spot for the geeky types.
As I started writing this post, I couldn't even remember his name. That's how I remembered that I had his card. I reached into my purse and dug it out. Then I stopped. This is one of those moments of decision. What do I want? Do I want this guy? Or am I happy with what I have in my life right now?
Instead of looking at his card, I just turned and slipped it into the shredder.
Where have I been? I realize that I let a couple of weeks pass without posting here. I'm really sorry about that. You know I hate not to post regularly. Life just got busy for me. I rearranged my business life recently to spend more time at home with my family and since I don't do anything related to PWK from home, it has taken me awhile to figure out how to make time for y'all. The good news is that I think I've got it together now and I have a few delectable posts queued up for you for the coming week. Thank you to those of you who wrote to ask if I was ok. Yes, all is well. PWK is not going dark.
JJ's Newest Post - Back at the end of June, JJ published Our Last Encounter, Part 1, the first part of a naughty story about one of our afternoons together. Well, yesterday, he finally published the second part of that story, Our Last Encounter, Part 2. Talk about delayed gratification! His three month gap makes me feel much better about my two week lapse.
October Sex Blog Chain - It's that time again! The topic for our October Sex Blog Chain is "Hot sex with the Spouse." If you're a blogger, get me your story link by the morning of October 9th. If your'e a reader, look for the Chain post to go live on the morning of Wednesday, October 10th. Yes, I know I screwed it up last month and put it out five days late. I promise to do better this time.
New Media Expo/Blog World - I'll be attending BlogWorld's New Media Expo in Las Vegas in January! I'll be there representing several other professional blogs that I write for, but I wouldn't mind hosting a secret PWK reception if any of you plan on going, too. If you are attending, let me know and I'll keep you posted if I decide to pull something together. Please note: "secret PWK reception" does not mean "orgy" or "opportunity for sex with Kat." It means "a reception" - drinks, maybe food, laughter, stories, meeting folks.
I love you guys! Thank you for sharing this corner of my life with me.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
I have been asking our gorgeous Soccer Mom for more photos for a long time, but JJ asks once and my inbox lights up. See how he is? No wonder he has me wrapped around his little finger and his thick cock.
Be sure to show Soccer Mom your love in the comments.