My name is Erin. I am proud to say that I am the first female Event Co-coordinator at our fair city's sports arena. It's a big deal to me, because I grew up around the arena watching my father work the Zamboni machine during hockey games here. Let me tell you about something interesting that happened to me a short time back.
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I took my eyes off the road for just a moment and glanced over at him. He sat looking straight ahead, in the passengers seat. There was no apparent sign of emotion on his face but I knew his mind was fixed intently on what might be soon happening.
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Part I
It started out as one of the worst dates I'd ever had.
He was good looking enough, to be sure... tall, blonde, and decent muscles showed through the nice suit.
And he had money. Designer sunglasses hid his emerald eyes while he drove, and when he laid them down; it was on the dash of a beautiful blue Ferrari convertible.
But his arrogance was overwhelming.
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I met Kimmy when I was doing a consulting job for a downtown charitable organization. She had been assigned to be my assistant and go-to girl in case I needed her, but to be honest I rarely did. She was a pretty girl, blonde hair and startling doe-eyes. She was also a big girl, not an ounce of fat on her, I doubt, but farm-girl stocky with a broad ass and big, full breasts. She wore tight jeans and low cut tops that showed off her generous cleavage.
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"There," she thought, admiring herself in the mirror. A cross stood out proudly on her chest, executed in black, cloth tape, the arms of the adhesive crucifix covering much of her breasts, the rest extending down her sternum to her belly. She adjusted her Catholic-school skirt, and reached for the makeshift headpiece with which she completed her revealing nun's habit.
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Sunlight in my eyes, burning through the eyelids, hot on the rest of my body, bad case of cotton-mouth, and an overwhelming need to take that nice long first leak of the day. Not the best way to wake up in the world, but not bad by any means.
Last night came back slowly, and I recalled I was on the deck where I had curled up with a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream as the party wound down.
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“I’m coming over,” I tell you, purring into the phone. “I’ve done a little shopping. Be ready for me when I get there.”
“What did you buy?” you ask me eagerly, “And what do you mean by ‘ready’?”
I laugh, not cruelly but coolly enough that I don’t reveal that I am nearly as excited as you. “Patience. Some new toys for us to play with. You’ll see when I get there.
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After my sophomore year at DU, I decided to stay in town for the summer instead of going back home. I liked my apartment and didn't want to find a new one in the fall, so I decided to stay the summer and take a course or two.
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Imagine munching into a big ripe juicy peach. Sweet-sharp flavour bursts into your mouth. Juices you cannot possibly capture all of flow unchecked down your chin. Hedonism! You take another bite. The juices flow once more, but you ignore them. You take another mouthful and abandon yourself to the pleasure.
They are ripe peaches, all the young mothers wheeling their tiny new infants in their carriages in the summer sunshine.
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“This is what I was telling you about.” My eyes opened wide as Adrienne handed me a magazine with her finger pointing to a picture of a black leather collar with chains attached to bind the users hands up around their neck.
“I’m completely shocked,” I confessed. “I would NEVER have guessed you were into that sort of thing.” Adrienne smiled, a pink hue staining her cheeks in admission.
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