Wont Die Wondering: How was the netball last night? Just found out am not going to work in Nottingham…
Beautiful but Grumpy: Netball was good but have small injury - some big Aussie bloke landed on me, well, on my leg… Shame about Nottingham – I’ve already imagined visiting you in a hotel wearing only a fur coat…
WDW: Mixed leagues? You can wear a fur coat for me anytime.
BbG: You will need to buy me one ;-)
WDW: Hmm many things I would rather buy you …. ;p
BbG: Oh yeah? ;-) Have you dreamt about me yet?
WDW: I don’t dream or remember them… have thought about you
BbG: Go on lover – tell me…
WDW: Would rather show you.
BbG: Any time. What’s the plan for Sunday?
WDW: Decided not to take you to the rugby. Its more a Saturday drinking and mates type thing, wouldn't want to subject you to such a barbaric event...can do a picnic in the park where one day I will put you on the bench and…..
BbG: You've made me blush.
WDW: Does that sound appealing?
BbG: Very….
WDW: Need a bathroom break? ;p
BbG: Yes….
WDW: Let me know how it goes slave…
I get up from my desk and immediately become self-concious by imagining that everyone knows where I‘m going, and what I’m planning to do. But strong desire washes that feeling away very quickly. In the office bathroom, before going into cubicle, I decide to wash my hands first. That makes me smile, and I promise myself, in the future, to watch out for women who wash hands BEFORE going to the toilet.
In the cubicle now, I sit down and position myself by lifting my tanned legs and pressing them against the door. I like the way they look on the wooden background. It helps to wear a skirt, I'm thinking, while lowering my black lace panties. All relaxed, playing and enjoying it... I then notice in the mirror-like paper holder, my breasts, bouncing in the rhythm of my hand. That turns me on even more. I muffle a moan.
Beaming and satisfied, I slip my panties back on - just in time for another boring meeting.
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
The First Night
I've had a riveting first date with WDW, and the second date is set for this week. But in between, we craved to meet at night… Like vampires. Not for a date. Not with a purpose. But purely to savour being together, at night.
Friday 8.20pm, my place
A ring to the door. He's early and I'm still brushing my teeth. We said 8.30pm. I open the door and he stands there, with a travel bag on one shoulder, glowing with curiosity. He passes me, brushing my lips with a soft kiss. I feel his excitement transferring onto me.
I watch him walking boldly into the kitchen, opening the freezer and starting loading it with strawberry ice cream. He then begins to open cupboards 'Are you looking for something specific or is it an inspection?' I say, and giggle at seeing him all so comfortable in my kitchen. 'Wine glasses for us. I brought wine' he replies smiling.
What was supposed to be a quick meal, takes me ages to prepare. Probably because I don't focus. We talk. Or rather I talk and he listens. From time to time he gets up, from the comfortable corner of the sofa, to give me a hug or a kiss or just to look at me closely, when I lay out my story.
We eat fish, drink white wine. And he seems ready to open up.
He shares with me a heartbreaking picture of Johannesburg. I don't believe him when he says empathy is not his strong point. I look at him and try to figure out who he is.
He admits having a tendency to view the world through a black and white prism, probably because he has seen so much pain.
'It's not that simple. It's not just black and white - there are many shades of grey'… I interrupt with passion. He gets up and gives me a long kiss. Long enough for me to forget about world poverty tonight.
'Has anyone ever told you the way you eat ice-cream is highly seductive?...' he looks at me intensely until I blush. We kiss and undress, while clumsily making our way towards the bedroom.
'Have you ever done it in the cupboard'? he asks, smiling invitingly.
……
'Jeez, your long hair is everywhere. I've just found some in my underpants!' he complains in bed.
'They don't normally fall out like that' I lie.
'Can I fart?' he asks trying to sound innocent. 'No!', I reply firmly, and soon fall asleep blissfully exhausted, with my face in his chest.
Friday 8.20pm, my place
A ring to the door. He's early and I'm still brushing my teeth. We said 8.30pm. I open the door and he stands there, with a travel bag on one shoulder, glowing with curiosity. He passes me, brushing my lips with a soft kiss. I feel his excitement transferring onto me.
I watch him walking boldly into the kitchen, opening the freezer and starting loading it with strawberry ice cream. He then begins to open cupboards 'Are you looking for something specific or is it an inspection?' I say, and giggle at seeing him all so comfortable in my kitchen. 'Wine glasses for us. I brought wine' he replies smiling.
What was supposed to be a quick meal, takes me ages to prepare. Probably because I don't focus. We talk. Or rather I talk and he listens. From time to time he gets up, from the comfortable corner of the sofa, to give me a hug or a kiss or just to look at me closely, when I lay out my story.
We eat fish, drink white wine. And he seems ready to open up.
He shares with me a heartbreaking picture of Johannesburg. I don't believe him when he says empathy is not his strong point. I look at him and try to figure out who he is.
He admits having a tendency to view the world through a black and white prism, probably because he has seen so much pain.
'It's not that simple. It's not just black and white - there are many shades of grey'… I interrupt with passion. He gets up and gives me a long kiss. Long enough for me to forget about world poverty tonight.
'Has anyone ever told you the way you eat ice-cream is highly seductive?...' he looks at me intensely until I blush. We kiss and undress, while clumsily making our way towards the bedroom.
'Have you ever done it in the cupboard'? he asks, smiling invitingly.
……
'Jeez, your long hair is everywhere. I've just found some in my underpants!' he complains in bed.
'They don't normally fall out like that' I lie.
'Can I fart?' he asks trying to sound innocent. 'No!', I reply firmly, and soon fall asleep blissfully exhausted, with my face in his chest.
Thursday, 13 May 2010
A second date
Won'tDieWondering is fast.
In fact, so fast that he's already managed to:
- invite me to Johannesburg
- ask me to join him in a triathlon
- suggest having sex
- propose having anal sex
- demand I admit we are in relationship
- ask to be considered being a guest of honour at my Mother's wedding
But he's not fast enough to secure a second date!
In fact, so fast that he's already managed to:
- invite me to Johannesburg
- ask me to join him in a triathlon
- suggest having sex
- propose having anal sex
- demand I admit we are in relationship
- ask to be considered being a guest of honour at my Mother's wedding
But he's not fast enough to secure a second date!
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
The First Day
Here is what happened on my first date with another blogger Won'tDieWondering:
8.15pm Music Bar Hall, Shoreditch - East London
I walk in and see a guy at the bar, staring at me with a shy smile – short, oriental guy. Please, please let it not be him. I circle around him slowly; he doesn't turn, it can't be him. I’m relieved. I walk around in the dark (I'm blinded as walked from sunny street into a dim large bar), not knowing what I'm actually looking for but not regretting going without exchanging photos. Funny state to be in – you are looking for something specific but at the same time, having no idea what it is. Just like looking for love, I guess. I almost bump into someone, who turns around and says my name.
So… he is good looking. I smile to myself, but somehow feel slightly disappointed. Disappointed because he didn't turn up to be unattractive!
I watch him – all chatty and confident; talks passionately about South Africa and gently leans over the table to show me his bright, blue eyes. ''Yes, they are blue'' I confirm, (positively) surprised by his bluntness.
He asks what I did earlier. I say I've been to the gym and that I like sport. He asks what sport I do. I pause to think (inside I’m laughing as I somehow can't think of ANY) and say “Competitive sports”. He doesn't seem to be impressed with my answer so I try again ''Tennis. I find it very sexy''. “I find you very sexy too” he says instantly. I chuckle realising he didn't hear me properly. He looks at me baffled. I clarify what it is I meant, and add with a delay “Actually, I do find you very sexy”. We smile, staring at each other’s eyes for a while. “When you smile like this you look like Matt Damon” I tell him. He blushes, and admits he’s been told before.
Then the smell of fish hits me. I look around to suggest it’s definitely not me. He asks if I’m hungry. I am, and we agree to grab pizza from the place nearby.
Waiting for traffic lights to change, I evaluate pros and cons - can’t stop smiling remembering when he offered to vote LibDems “for both of us”. On the other hand, he seems a little geeky. I turn my head right to check if it’s safe to cross, and get my lips stuck on another pair of lips! What the f…Oh, and soon feel his tongue melting inside my mouth. “I wanted to do it all night” he whispers. I instantly forget about the cons, and let myself enjoy the rest of the evening.
In the taxi on the way home, feeling happy and very lucky, I receive a text “Thanks for tonight. You would make a good slave”.
8.15pm Music Bar Hall, Shoreditch - East London
I walk in and see a guy at the bar, staring at me with a shy smile – short, oriental guy. Please, please let it not be him. I circle around him slowly; he doesn't turn, it can't be him. I’m relieved. I walk around in the dark (I'm blinded as walked from sunny street into a dim large bar), not knowing what I'm actually looking for but not regretting going without exchanging photos. Funny state to be in – you are looking for something specific but at the same time, having no idea what it is. Just like looking for love, I guess. I almost bump into someone, who turns around and says my name.
So… he is good looking. I smile to myself, but somehow feel slightly disappointed. Disappointed because he didn't turn up to be unattractive!
I watch him – all chatty and confident; talks passionately about South Africa and gently leans over the table to show me his bright, blue eyes. ''Yes, they are blue'' I confirm, (positively) surprised by his bluntness.
He asks what I did earlier. I say I've been to the gym and that I like sport. He asks what sport I do. I pause to think (inside I’m laughing as I somehow can't think of ANY) and say “Competitive sports”. He doesn't seem to be impressed with my answer so I try again ''Tennis. I find it very sexy''. “I find you very sexy too” he says instantly. I chuckle realising he didn't hear me properly. He looks at me baffled. I clarify what it is I meant, and add with a delay “Actually, I do find you very sexy”. We smile, staring at each other’s eyes for a while. “When you smile like this you look like Matt Damon” I tell him. He blushes, and admits he’s been told before.
Then the smell of fish hits me. I look around to suggest it’s definitely not me. He asks if I’m hungry. I am, and we agree to grab pizza from the place nearby.
Waiting for traffic lights to change, I evaluate pros and cons - can’t stop smiling remembering when he offered to vote LibDems “for both of us”. On the other hand, he seems a little geeky. I turn my head right to check if it’s safe to cross, and get my lips stuck on another pair of lips! What the f…Oh, and soon feel his tongue melting inside my mouth. “I wanted to do it all night” he whispers. I instantly forget about the cons, and let myself enjoy the rest of the evening.
In the taxi on the way home, feeling happy and very lucky, I receive a text “Thanks for tonight. You would make a good slave”.
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Love letter
I've had a (love) letter... from another blogger!
When I broke the news to my work-friend Linda, (who also blogs) her reaction was ''Great! Who is it? Not that Fishy guy?!''
''No, not Fishy'' I reassured her and laughed.
Here is the 'love letter':
''Hello BBg,
I have taken the liberty of sending you this email as I enjoy your blog and would enjoy some banter - this is none other than Won'tDieWondering here.
How is the year panning out for you? I am currently loving going out with my mates and rebuilding my life (not that its broken, just completely changed)
Anyways, this is obviously just a short note to drop the ball in your court. I like how you think and some of the things you have posted.
Cheers,
WDW''
Whoever would want to date me after reading my blog must be completely mad!
Well, I'll never know if I don’t give it a chance, and meet the guy.
You think I’m doing the right thing?
When I broke the news to my work-friend Linda, (who also blogs) her reaction was ''Great! Who is it? Not that Fishy guy?!''
''No, not Fishy'' I reassured her and laughed.
Here is the 'love letter':
''Hello BBg,
I have taken the liberty of sending you this email as I enjoy your blog and would enjoy some banter - this is none other than Won'tDieWondering here.
How is the year panning out for you? I am currently loving going out with my mates and rebuilding my life (not that its broken, just completely changed)
Anyways, this is obviously just a short note to drop the ball in your court. I like how you think and some of the things you have posted.
Cheers,
WDW''
Whoever would want to date me after reading my blog must be completely mad!
Well, I'll never know if I don’t give it a chance, and meet the guy.
You think I’m doing the right thing?
Saturday, 8 May 2010
A salty taste of revenge
For those of you who are new to my blog, let me run you through recent events in my life - some weeks ago, my friend Ella has agreed to date a guy she knew I liked, Andy. In the end, they only met for one drink and their mutual interest died. But my bruised ego was still very much alive and demanding revenge!
It wasn't enough to say 'NO' to Andy, who dared to ask me out later on. No, I needed something stronger, something memorable.
Luckily for me, it somehow arranged itself…
Ella rents out a spare bedroom, and this time, a guy from Sydney, John, took the room. Ella liked him, cooked for him, occasionally watched films with him, and… ended up in bed with him. But she was still claiming being cool with it – no feelings involved.
I got to meet John on the night that Ella, Andy and I came from the club back to her place. There I witnessed her disappearance into John's bedroom.
The next time I meet Ella's lover is on one Thursday's night, when after a great evening in The East Room, I come to crash at hers:
We walk into the hall, taking coats off, giggling and already planning to have some honey vodka, that Ella keeps in the freezer. John emerges from his bedroom wearing some sport gear (why do men do that - wearing football shirt when not playing football?) and he joins the party. John and I hit it off, laughing a lot, and giving each other fitness tips. And we drink vodka in shots. Three of us then move into a more intimate conversational territory - love, patriotism, truth, theology, sex and canarries. We are warmed by the vodka, feeling nostalgic and… sexy.
I pop the question with a curious smile ''So… are we going to sleep, or shall we three have fun?'' Ella looks into my eyes to check if I'm not joking, but I confidently look back, first into her eyes and then John's, while taking his hand. I lead him through the hall, having Ella following, and asking with an excited smile ''Whose room you prefer''?
We settle for John's bed…
A few days later e-mail from Ella arrives:
''I've asked John to move out. He's not happy about it but I can't forget how neglected I felt that night when I was constantly on the end edge of the bed and you two were going for it. I'm not blaming you of course, just want John out.
Let's have coffee soon xxx''
It wasn't enough to say 'NO' to Andy, who dared to ask me out later on. No, I needed something stronger, something memorable.
Luckily for me, it somehow arranged itself…
Ella rents out a spare bedroom, and this time, a guy from Sydney, John, took the room. Ella liked him, cooked for him, occasionally watched films with him, and… ended up in bed with him. But she was still claiming being cool with it – no feelings involved.
I got to meet John on the night that Ella, Andy and I came from the club back to her place. There I witnessed her disappearance into John's bedroom.
The next time I meet Ella's lover is on one Thursday's night, when after a great evening in The East Room, I come to crash at hers:
We walk into the hall, taking coats off, giggling and already planning to have some honey vodka, that Ella keeps in the freezer. John emerges from his bedroom wearing some sport gear (why do men do that - wearing football shirt when not playing football?) and he joins the party. John and I hit it off, laughing a lot, and giving each other fitness tips. And we drink vodka in shots. Three of us then move into a more intimate conversational territory - love, patriotism, truth, theology, sex and canarries. We are warmed by the vodka, feeling nostalgic and… sexy.
I pop the question with a curious smile ''So… are we going to sleep, or shall we three have fun?'' Ella looks into my eyes to check if I'm not joking, but I confidently look back, first into her eyes and then John's, while taking his hand. I lead him through the hall, having Ella following, and asking with an excited smile ''Whose room you prefer''?
We settle for John's bed…
A few days later e-mail from Ella arrives:
''I've asked John to move out. He's not happy about it but I can't forget how neglected I felt that night when I was constantly on the end edge of the bed and you two were going for it. I'm not blaming you of course, just want John out.
Let's have coffee soon xxx''
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
How to end a romance
To add to, what has already become a work-romance disaster, I’ve ended up looking like a female chauvinist.
I just want to end the misery of this bleeding-to-death-romance so I meet Matthew for a drink after work to talk things over. Last week I finally revealed I didn’t want to meet his mother, because it was all too committing.
Now in the pub, surrounded by couples that sit too close for comfort, Matthew breaks silence ‘’I don’t want to get hurt… Maybe it’s best to just stay friends’’.
I’m there listening, looking through the pub’s window on brunches of a blossoming tree, gently waving on this sunny day. How unusual to find a fruit tree in the heart of the city.
I sigh and feel my irritation rising, ‘’Can’t you try to enjoy the experience; just being, being together, without always trying to reach some outcome. It can be refreshing’’, I add.
But Matthew is not getting it.
The next day he’s texting from his best mate’s wedding that we’ve supposed to go to together:
Matthew: Hi. How was work today? I couldn’t help but hear Jason’s [our temperamental boss] outburst yesterday, are you ok?
What I would like to reply is: of course I’m ok – it’s Friday night and I’m having a good time. And you should be doing the same!
What I actually reply is: Hi. Thanks. Yeah there was a bit of a situation but I managed to play it cool (I think). Are you at the wedding?
Matthew: Yeah I think you did play it cool, he really showed himself up with that one. Yes at wedding but could do with getting out of here. Have purposefully not had a drink in case I decide to.
BbG: You are joking! Not having a drink at wedding? Not enjoying it?
Matthew: No not joking. Not really enjoying it plus hardly know anyone either and realise how stupid and insensitive I have been this week and that you should be here with me :-(
Ahh, that’s daring to admit it, but not really what I want to hear, considering I want this to be over if we can’t see each other on my, non-commitment terms…
BbG: You did what you thought was best for you. I’ve started to think that you were right. If you can’t have a casual sexual relations than best to be just friends.
Matthew: Well there is that part but it seemed more than casual to me because I really feel for you and realised how much I enjoy your company and that it was a really good thing. I know you were not looking for anything because of where you were before and I shouldn’t have assumed otherwise. I suppose it comes down to if all you’ll ever want is casual or whether you just want casual because of being in long relationship previously. Have felt awful since speaking on Tuesday and have missed you.
Oh God, he’s not making it easy for me – I’ve got to say something I know he won’t settle for…
BbG: In truth I’m only interested in sex now. Please don’t judge me.
I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but it is the truth, it makes me feel good, totally relaxed and in control of my (single but not alone) life.
Matthew: Not going to judge you at all, everyone wants that at times. I just thought there might have been more there as I felt a chemistry and it certainly didn’t just feel like that was the only reason we were seeing each other. Well I suppose at least I know now :-(
I can’t afford to keep reassuring him – it drains me out.
No more reassurance. He’s got to deal with it. I'm not replying and instead, promissing myself never to mix work and pleasure again.
I just want to end the misery of this bleeding-to-death-romance so I meet Matthew for a drink after work to talk things over. Last week I finally revealed I didn’t want to meet his mother, because it was all too committing.
Now in the pub, surrounded by couples that sit too close for comfort, Matthew breaks silence ‘’I don’t want to get hurt… Maybe it’s best to just stay friends’’.
I’m there listening, looking through the pub’s window on brunches of a blossoming tree, gently waving on this sunny day. How unusual to find a fruit tree in the heart of the city.
I sigh and feel my irritation rising, ‘’Can’t you try to enjoy the experience; just being, being together, without always trying to reach some outcome. It can be refreshing’’, I add.
But Matthew is not getting it.
The next day he’s texting from his best mate’s wedding that we’ve supposed to go to together:
Matthew: Hi. How was work today? I couldn’t help but hear Jason’s [our temperamental boss] outburst yesterday, are you ok?
What I would like to reply is: of course I’m ok – it’s Friday night and I’m having a good time. And you should be doing the same!
What I actually reply is: Hi. Thanks. Yeah there was a bit of a situation but I managed to play it cool (I think). Are you at the wedding?
Matthew: Yeah I think you did play it cool, he really showed himself up with that one. Yes at wedding but could do with getting out of here. Have purposefully not had a drink in case I decide to.
BbG: You are joking! Not having a drink at wedding? Not enjoying it?
Matthew: No not joking. Not really enjoying it plus hardly know anyone either and realise how stupid and insensitive I have been this week and that you should be here with me :-(
Ahh, that’s daring to admit it, but not really what I want to hear, considering I want this to be over if we can’t see each other on my, non-commitment terms…
BbG: You did what you thought was best for you. I’ve started to think that you were right. If you can’t have a casual sexual relations than best to be just friends.
Matthew: Well there is that part but it seemed more than casual to me because I really feel for you and realised how much I enjoy your company and that it was a really good thing. I know you were not looking for anything because of where you were before and I shouldn’t have assumed otherwise. I suppose it comes down to if all you’ll ever want is casual or whether you just want casual because of being in long relationship previously. Have felt awful since speaking on Tuesday and have missed you.
Oh God, he’s not making it easy for me – I’ve got to say something I know he won’t settle for…
BbG: In truth I’m only interested in sex now. Please don’t judge me.
I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but it is the truth, it makes me feel good, totally relaxed and in control of my (single but not alone) life.
Matthew: Not going to judge you at all, everyone wants that at times. I just thought there might have been more there as I felt a chemistry and it certainly didn’t just feel like that was the only reason we were seeing each other. Well I suppose at least I know now :-(
I can’t afford to keep reassuring him – it drains me out.
No more reassurance. He’s got to deal with it. I'm not replying and instead, promissing myself never to mix work and pleasure again.
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