Monday, March 24, 2008
Jetsetter
The past few weeks I lived through a series of flight disasters and catastrophes basically.
Then I was dumped on Monday formally by the Old Boy and now here I am in Los Angeles.
Its not even 9pm yet on a Sunday night and the house that I am staying in is quiet as hell.
My heart palpitates away as I type. You see, my nerves are still frail and given that I am left alone to my own devices by the old friend of mine from back in my days in Paris (who too is suffering from an astronomical physical pain that leaves her beautiful self all depressed and skinny and the need to pop multiple painkillers and sleeping pills to knock her out in the night),and being more of an owl, I am plagued by my own thoughts and anxiety. Surprisingly, my energy levels remain high and I am undefeated by sleep, I am getting more and more nervous by the minute.
Tomorrow, I fly to another state to work- the claustrophobia and fear of that thought fast accelerates my anxiety levels like my hectic travelling schedule, reminding me that before too long, I will be back in Sydney in no time and that I have to face the horrible team that I work for again...
My chest continues to tighten by the thought. I am just about to lose it at work (got the bad vibes again from the team on my last day prior to the long weekend) combined with my emotional state.
In fact, guess what? I did lose it when I learnt that my replaced flight to the U.S was delayed. First, my issued Business class ticket got canceled on the day before Good Friday, then the flight got canceled at the airport and I had to fly with another airline and THEN I missed out being allocated an aisle seat (claustrophobic problems) and then upon embarking the plane, I was seated next to a couple with two young babies and then we were made to disembark the plane due to technical problems before delaying the take off.
This was notwithstanding that I was still severely jetlagged from my return from Asia at the start of the week. I returned to the office straight upon touching down (the day where I also started to week by being ditched by the Old Boy and then meeting DL and Fluffball on the same night and felt like my entire life was going freaking downhill). Last week in Asia, I had a similar problem where I was flown off to a strange city that wasn't supposed to be my destination and was stuck there because the system didn't have my name to travel onwards. A string of crazy events took place where I finally arrived much later (a straightforward 2.5 hours turned to an 8-hour nightmare)and to add on to the fun (not!), I was allocated a seat that wouldn't recline to let me rest my sore back. I arrived in that hotel, dumped my bags and headed straight to the hall to do the necessary socialising and networking. By 2am in the morning as I returned to my hotel room tipsy, I realised in utter shock that my bag with my passport and at least AUD$500 was missing. I had left it in the limousine.
Oh, I haven't mentioned that the drycleaner's have also lost my expensive dress (that I took so much trouble to get the shop assistants to alter and return to me on time; think it's not meant to be) that I have only worn once. The night before I flew to Asia, I wanted to pack it into my suitcase and surprise, surprise, it was missing with the bunch of drycleaning that I had just received the evening before! The phone was slammed down on me when I demanded the matter to look into. I was so fuming mad!!!!
So yeah, I felt that I could not take my shitty life anymore and had a good mind not to board the plane whilst waiting its technical problems to be fixed and then not return to the office. EVER!!! I rang the older sibling and bawled my eyes out. People were looking at me but I didn't care a fuck about looking crazy because I was really losing it!!!!
I even lost my boarding pass for one moment (although it was re-issued to me at the boarding gate cos I insisted on a better seat like 15 minutes before)and my hands were terribly shaking...
****
The Old Boy continues to haunt my mind. On planes, on my sleepless nights and wherever I haven't occupied my mind on anything. I try to confine my thoughts of him in abstract forms as the idea of intimacy or lack of from his end drives me straight to depression. I feel my heart squeeze mercilessly...
Just 2 weeks ago at the Paragon, I got him to buy my lollies from Marks & Spencer. I hoarded them preciously and with each Percy pig that I chewed on, I know that the packet is only as good as it last. There will be no second time where he would buy me another packet. He offered to get me the Pierre Cardin handbag that I have adored whilst we were there but I wanted nothing from him except his affections for me.
Finally, I did decide that I wanted a present from him- only because I knew I was losing him and that sentimental me just wanting to hold on to the fondness of memories. I wanted a keepsake from him to affirm that our joint existence have been real.
Ironically, he bought be a white gold chain that I was meaning to replace from the broken one in the longest while and which the Old Boy knew. It was my 26th birthday present from DL that held a brilliant cut diamond pendant.
****
The day we last laid intimately together on the bed in Hotel 81 some two weeks ago and the last it would be, I said the three magic words to the Old Boy.
"I love you Darling," I whispered in his ear affectionately and I held him tight.
"You know you shouldn't. We should't even be doing this."
"But I do. Please don't say that you don't want to be with again," I whined vulnerably and kissed him lightly on his cheek.
He tightened his embrace.
We fell asleep after that.
**
I miss the smoothness of the Old Boy's body. I love running my fingers along his tummy, down his thighs and even holding his flaccid willie in my hand. Just the sheer vulnerability of his being, which I am overwhelmed with tenderness.
Those haunting moments when I inserted his hardening manhood in my mouth with dear affection and gave it all the pleasure that it sought while I went almost breathless. My eyes would meet his as the engorged beast filled up my entire orifice while I sucked it with love, affection and lust. With each moan the Old Boy uttered, I was encouraged to lick and suck harder and deeper until he is finally overwhelmed and succumbed to his desire where he would relived his manhood in my mouth. With affectionate duty, I swallowed his cum. I wanted to be his good gal.
*
Post intimacy as we laid in bed, I ran my hand down his bare belly. I felt the flattening contours of his tummy. We were lying sideways in spoon fashion.
"Baby, you seemed to have lost weight."
"That a sweet thing to say, Darling." He turned his head to me and smiled.
"I mean it baby. You definitely have lost weight. I can feel it."
*
Days later, we met for the last time at the bar on a Friday night. He presented me with the present and brought me some food that he had cooked earlier on. We were seated with his group of friends on high stools where we held hands under the table. He whispered to me affectionately that he had weighed himself that day and indeed, he had lost some weight. He then kissed my cheek lightly.
That night, we finally parted around 3a.m in the morning. Despite much cajoling by me to tempt him into sneaking to my room, he had firmly refused. He attempted to break the tensed situation as my tipsiness is making me even more persistent in keeping up with my bad tantrums, the Old Boy got me to take the chain out of the jewellery box so that he put it around my neck.
I continued to be insistent. I wanted it to be a last special night. I will risk it at all cost (with my parents) to take him to my private chambers and spend some moments of intimacy with me. He was as persistent as I was in his rejections of my propositions, citing that it was very late, his wife was waiting up and she had texted him and that we shouldn't risk it with my parents.
I was fast losing ground. With the copious amounts of alcohol that I have consumed during the night well kicking into my blood stream and further heightening my anxiety and pain, I made on last emphatic plea.
"But we won't see each other for a long time..."
"There is still July. Darling, please I got to go home.It's really late."
"But I don't even know if I can definitely come back, baby."
"Well, there's MSN in the meantime."
"NO! You know, I will cut you off and never contact you again! You break my heart!"
He nodded and there was a calm smile on his face.
Our eyes met and I stared daggers at him. My heart was in pain.
I knew I was fighting a losing battle. I was a wounded soldier who is all ready to lash back whatever that was left of me.
"I HATE YOU!!!!!" I screamed.
My voice echoed on my street and broke the silence of early morning as I got out of his car. I slammed his door with all my might, culminating the anger and pain I felt for the futility of the moment. (I was told the next day that the door handle fell off from my violent exertion).
During this visit back home, we did not consummate our affair.
I had waited fervently for eight weeks upon my return home again to spend time with the Old Boy.
He wasn't keen in Hotel 81 although his oral and finger stimulation did a great job at bringing me to orgasm consecutively. I bestowed him with a puddle yet again and could have continued going on for the afternoon....
I was coy to put in my special requests with him (which I have fantasized for a good two months)and by the time I had given him enough satisfaction, he was too tired to re-start the session with other forms of play.
Well, guess he just wasn't interested in me anymore.
Actually, I know so. He told me that day. I stressed him out even in bed. I am just not his type.
****
So yeah, I lost the Old Boy.
And then there's more.
****
All the travelling does nothing to wear me out physically just yet.
Emotionally, it has been jet setting and globe trotting for a long time now.
I am really getting sick and tired of myself.
I still haven't become a seasoned traveller.
Or rather, is it a tourist?
I always do the touch and go. Mostly involuntary though.
One affairs ensuing another or maybe simultaneously.
****
It's been almost four years since Paris.
For the first time since then, I met my good friend in Los Angeles she now calls her home.
She said I am now emotionally more stable.
No way, I told her. Am just trying to keep myself under control, my dear friend.
So did you ever have sex with DL after, she asked. She knew I had lost interest in carnality for a long time pre-Paris.
Oh yeah. Paris did change me, my friend.
I cannot stop after that. DL calls me a "terrorist" (for sex). And then I never stopped having affairs. I have become somewhat like the compulsive shoplifter, my friend.
But memorable and fucking good orgasmic sex? Two comes to my mind, barring DL.
The Aura and the Old Boy.
****
I thought I found the perfect formula in the Old Boy.
Married man, no strings attached eventually. We would even allow polygamy and non-exclusivity.
Endless indulgence of great sex and companionship.
The Certainty of not having a joint future.
I never cared for marriage.
****
Last night, at the Standard Hotel, us ladies hung out at its exclusive balcony bar that overlooked the beautiful skyline of Downtown LA.
We mingled with a group of men, having a Buck's night.
"Good Luck!" I said to the Lawyer,one of the friends of the groom-to-be.
"Are you married?" he asked.
"Do I look like I am married?" I laughed.
"Well you could be."
"I couldn't be bothered with the notion." I smiled flirtatiously.
" I very much like to enjoy all the honey of matrimony but non of the sting.Thank you very much."
He laughed nervously.
****
Back to jetsetting.
My heart constantly is.
Tired and suicidal I am.
But will I ever find a home?
The past few weeks I lived through a series of flight disasters and catastrophes basically.
Then I was dumped on Monday formally by the Old Boy and now here I am in Los Angeles.
Its not even 9pm yet on a Sunday night and the house that I am staying in is quiet as hell.
My heart palpitates away as I type. You see, my nerves are still frail and given that I am left alone to my own devices by the old friend of mine from back in my days in Paris (who too is suffering from an astronomical physical pain that leaves her beautiful self all depressed and skinny and the need to pop multiple painkillers and sleeping pills to knock her out in the night),and being more of an owl, I am plagued by my own thoughts and anxiety. Surprisingly, my energy levels remain high and I am undefeated by sleep, I am getting more and more nervous by the minute.
Tomorrow, I fly to another state to work- the claustrophobia and fear of that thought fast accelerates my anxiety levels like my hectic travelling schedule, reminding me that before too long, I will be back in Sydney in no time and that I have to face the horrible team that I work for again...
My chest continues to tighten by the thought. I am just about to lose it at work (got the bad vibes again from the team on my last day prior to the long weekend) combined with my emotional state.
In fact, guess what? I did lose it when I learnt that my replaced flight to the U.S was delayed. First, my issued Business class ticket got canceled on the day before Good Friday, then the flight got canceled at the airport and I had to fly with another airline and THEN I missed out being allocated an aisle seat (claustrophobic problems) and then upon embarking the plane, I was seated next to a couple with two young babies and then we were made to disembark the plane due to technical problems before delaying the take off.
This was notwithstanding that I was still severely jetlagged from my return from Asia at the start of the week. I returned to the office straight upon touching down (the day where I also started to week by being ditched by the Old Boy and then meeting DL and Fluffball on the same night and felt like my entire life was going freaking downhill). Last week in Asia, I had a similar problem where I was flown off to a strange city that wasn't supposed to be my destination and was stuck there because the system didn't have my name to travel onwards. A string of crazy events took place where I finally arrived much later (a straightforward 2.5 hours turned to an 8-hour nightmare)and to add on to the fun (not!), I was allocated a seat that wouldn't recline to let me rest my sore back. I arrived in that hotel, dumped my bags and headed straight to the hall to do the necessary socialising and networking. By 2am in the morning as I returned to my hotel room tipsy, I realised in utter shock that my bag with my passport and at least AUD$500 was missing. I had left it in the limousine.
Oh, I haven't mentioned that the drycleaner's have also lost my expensive dress (that I took so much trouble to get the shop assistants to alter and return to me on time; think it's not meant to be) that I have only worn once. The night before I flew to Asia, I wanted to pack it into my suitcase and surprise, surprise, it was missing with the bunch of drycleaning that I had just received the evening before! The phone was slammed down on me when I demanded the matter to look into. I was so fuming mad!!!!
So yeah, I felt that I could not take my shitty life anymore and had a good mind not to board the plane whilst waiting its technical problems to be fixed and then not return to the office. EVER!!! I rang the older sibling and bawled my eyes out. People were looking at me but I didn't care a fuck about looking crazy because I was really losing it!!!!
I even lost my boarding pass for one moment (although it was re-issued to me at the boarding gate cos I insisted on a better seat like 15 minutes before)and my hands were terribly shaking...
****
The Old Boy continues to haunt my mind. On planes, on my sleepless nights and wherever I haven't occupied my mind on anything. I try to confine my thoughts of him in abstract forms as the idea of intimacy or lack of from his end drives me straight to depression. I feel my heart squeeze mercilessly...
Just 2 weeks ago at the Paragon, I got him to buy my lollies from Marks & Spencer. I hoarded them preciously and with each Percy pig that I chewed on, I know that the packet is only as good as it last. There will be no second time where he would buy me another packet. He offered to get me the Pierre Cardin handbag that I have adored whilst we were there but I wanted nothing from him except his affections for me.
Finally, I did decide that I wanted a present from him- only because I knew I was losing him and that sentimental me just wanting to hold on to the fondness of memories. I wanted a keepsake from him to affirm that our joint existence have been real.
Ironically, he bought be a white gold chain that I was meaning to replace from the broken one in the longest while and which the Old Boy knew. It was my 26th birthday present from DL that held a brilliant cut diamond pendant.
****
The day we last laid intimately together on the bed in Hotel 81 some two weeks ago and the last it would be, I said the three magic words to the Old Boy.
"I love you Darling," I whispered in his ear affectionately and I held him tight.
"You know you shouldn't. We should't even be doing this."
"But I do. Please don't say that you don't want to be with again," I whined vulnerably and kissed him lightly on his cheek.
He tightened his embrace.
We fell asleep after that.
**
I miss the smoothness of the Old Boy's body. I love running my fingers along his tummy, down his thighs and even holding his flaccid willie in my hand. Just the sheer vulnerability of his being, which I am overwhelmed with tenderness.
Those haunting moments when I inserted his hardening manhood in my mouth with dear affection and gave it all the pleasure that it sought while I went almost breathless. My eyes would meet his as the engorged beast filled up my entire orifice while I sucked it with love, affection and lust. With each moan the Old Boy uttered, I was encouraged to lick and suck harder and deeper until he is finally overwhelmed and succumbed to his desire where he would relived his manhood in my mouth. With affectionate duty, I swallowed his cum. I wanted to be his good gal.
*
Post intimacy as we laid in bed, I ran my hand down his bare belly. I felt the flattening contours of his tummy. We were lying sideways in spoon fashion.
"Baby, you seemed to have lost weight."
"That a sweet thing to say, Darling." He turned his head to me and smiled.
"I mean it baby. You definitely have lost weight. I can feel it."
*
Days later, we met for the last time at the bar on a Friday night. He presented me with the present and brought me some food that he had cooked earlier on. We were seated with his group of friends on high stools where we held hands under the table. He whispered to me affectionately that he had weighed himself that day and indeed, he had lost some weight. He then kissed my cheek lightly.
That night, we finally parted around 3a.m in the morning. Despite much cajoling by me to tempt him into sneaking to my room, he had firmly refused. He attempted to break the tensed situation as my tipsiness is making me even more persistent in keeping up with my bad tantrums, the Old Boy got me to take the chain out of the jewellery box so that he put it around my neck.
I continued to be insistent. I wanted it to be a last special night. I will risk it at all cost (with my parents) to take him to my private chambers and spend some moments of intimacy with me. He was as persistent as I was in his rejections of my propositions, citing that it was very late, his wife was waiting up and she had texted him and that we shouldn't risk it with my parents.
I was fast losing ground. With the copious amounts of alcohol that I have consumed during the night well kicking into my blood stream and further heightening my anxiety and pain, I made on last emphatic plea.
"But we won't see each other for a long time..."
"There is still July. Darling, please I got to go home.It's really late."
"But I don't even know if I can definitely come back, baby."
"Well, there's MSN in the meantime."
"NO! You know, I will cut you off and never contact you again! You break my heart!"
He nodded and there was a calm smile on his face.
Our eyes met and I stared daggers at him. My heart was in pain.
I knew I was fighting a losing battle. I was a wounded soldier who is all ready to lash back whatever that was left of me.
"I HATE YOU!!!!!" I screamed.
My voice echoed on my street and broke the silence of early morning as I got out of his car. I slammed his door with all my might, culminating the anger and pain I felt for the futility of the moment. (I was told the next day that the door handle fell off from my violent exertion).
During this visit back home, we did not consummate our affair.
I had waited fervently for eight weeks upon my return home again to spend time with the Old Boy.
He wasn't keen in Hotel 81 although his oral and finger stimulation did a great job at bringing me to orgasm consecutively. I bestowed him with a puddle yet again and could have continued going on for the afternoon....
I was coy to put in my special requests with him (which I have fantasized for a good two months)and by the time I had given him enough satisfaction, he was too tired to re-start the session with other forms of play.
Well, guess he just wasn't interested in me anymore.
Actually, I know so. He told me that day. I stressed him out even in bed. I am just not his type.
****
So yeah, I lost the Old Boy.
And then there's more.
****
All the travelling does nothing to wear me out physically just yet.
Emotionally, it has been jet setting and globe trotting for a long time now.
I am really getting sick and tired of myself.
I still haven't become a seasoned traveller.
Or rather, is it a tourist?
I always do the touch and go. Mostly involuntary though.
One affairs ensuing another or maybe simultaneously.
****
It's been almost four years since Paris.
For the first time since then, I met my good friend in Los Angeles she now calls her home.
She said I am now emotionally more stable.
No way, I told her. Am just trying to keep myself under control, my dear friend.
So did you ever have sex with DL after, she asked. She knew I had lost interest in carnality for a long time pre-Paris.
Oh yeah. Paris did change me, my friend.
I cannot stop after that. DL calls me a "terrorist" (for sex). And then I never stopped having affairs. I have become somewhat like the compulsive shoplifter, my friend.
But memorable and fucking good orgasmic sex? Two comes to my mind, barring DL.
The Aura and the Old Boy.
****
I thought I found the perfect formula in the Old Boy.
Married man, no strings attached eventually. We would even allow polygamy and non-exclusivity.
Endless indulgence of great sex and companionship.
The Certainty of not having a joint future.
I never cared for marriage.
****
Last night, at the Standard Hotel, us ladies hung out at its exclusive balcony bar that overlooked the beautiful skyline of Downtown LA.
We mingled with a group of men, having a Buck's night.
"Good Luck!" I said to the Lawyer,one of the friends of the groom-to-be.
"Are you married?" he asked.
"Do I look like I am married?" I laughed.
"Well you could be."
"I couldn't be bothered with the notion." I smiled flirtatiously.
" I very much like to enjoy all the honey of matrimony but non of the sting.Thank you very much."
He laughed nervously.
****
Back to jetsetting.
My heart constantly is.
Tired and suicidal I am.
But will I ever find a home?
