Sunday, June 02, 2013
Quotes from P
Just had a look of my own blog entries and boy, was I a handful back in my wild, naughty days!
I read my past entries with much amusement.
I was such a wild cat and cannot see how I would revert to some of my old and brazen ways as I have become much more circumspect as I get older. Though having said that, I could so identify the train of thoughts in some of those entries- that essence of that inner voice observing and narrating every now-and-here moment like a third party observing a stranger is still fundamentally me, Miss P in reel and real life. I still believe life to be characterised by laisseiz faire romantic affairs, lots of fun with little real commitments or serious intensity to bog one down down the pathway of heartaches and headaches. Hopefully, there is a lot of jazz music or Latino boleros in the background to complement the mood of loving too...;)
After all, P is all about the honey of matrimony and none of the sting.
Let me invite you down my shady alleyway of a past that marked a time in my life where I balanced my life precariously with a combination of spontaneity, charm, with, manic-ness, anxiety and drunken-ness. In P's previous life in Paris, there was also much use of weed which only took her down a dark, dark path of melancholy when the party was over.
I feel like an old girl being that voyeur and living vicariously through some person's life whenever I walk down this memory only to realise this person was indeed me not too long ago.
Voyuers, enjoy!;)
*******
I read my past entries with much amusement.
I was such a wild cat and cannot see how I would revert to some of my old and brazen ways as I have become much more circumspect as I get older. Though having said that, I could so identify the train of thoughts in some of those entries- that essence of that inner voice observing and narrating every now-and-here moment like a third party observing a stranger is still fundamentally me, Miss P in reel and real life. I still believe life to be characterised by laisseiz faire romantic affairs, lots of fun with little real commitments or serious intensity to bog one down down the pathway of heartaches and headaches. Hopefully, there is a lot of jazz music or Latino boleros in the background to complement the mood of loving too...;)
After all, P is all about the honey of matrimony and none of the sting.
Let me invite you down my shady alleyway of a past that marked a time in my life where I balanced my life precariously with a combination of spontaneity, charm, with, manic-ness, anxiety and drunken-ness. In P's previous life in Paris, there was also much use of weed which only took her down a dark, dark path of melancholy when the party was over.
I feel like an old girl being that voyeur and living vicariously through some person's life whenever I walk down this memory only to realise this person was indeed me not too long ago.
Voyuers, enjoy!;)
*******
“I was the sort of lover who loved to ravage a man. I didn't
know how to play that coy virgin girl. So come fuck me or I would be gone. My
attention span can only last as long as when I am having an orgasm.”
****
“I used to be of the opinion that newer personal histories
can confound older ones. Hopping from one affair after another once had an
instantaneous quick fix way of mending my tattered heart from one guy to
another. In short, it helped me to write off someone and moved on much faster
with the arrival of a new beau.”
**
“You must know that I haven’t got the best disposition to
stomach casual affairs or relationships although ironically, I have always had
an unwitting way of finding myself in one.”
****
“With every visit back home, Harry is sure to hear about my
hooking up with a new beau or maybe two or more at the same time- never a fixed
preference type and well rounded in her collection of men. P is such a laugh
and she laughs at herself- good fun as a friend, probably not the best
girlfriend. A bit of a cavalier but then a bit of a romantic mishap. Tragic
comedy figure.”
****
“Hey,
wanna go off somewhere?” He
eyed me suggestively and spoke in his Latino accented English.
“Nope. I am not that type of a girl.” I said smilingly.
“What?”
“I am not a one night stand sort of girl.” I tried again, half amused at my speech.
“Maybe not one night, but more nights. Many, many nights. You are so sexy.” He teased cheesily.
“Sometimes…,” he continued. “Sometimes, good things happen once…” He reiterated.
So be it, I thought to myself. Precisely so – I want good sex again and again. Not once. Dumbass!
I was getting amused and wanted to see where all this talk is getting us to. "
“Nope. I am not that type of a girl.” I said smilingly.
“What?”
“I am not a one night stand sort of girl.” I tried again, half amused at my speech.
“Maybe not one night, but more nights. Many, many nights. You are so sexy.” He teased cheesily.
“Sometimes…,” he continued. “Sometimes, good things happen once…” He reiterated.
So be it, I thought to myself. Precisely so – I want good sex again and again. Not once. Dumbass!
I was getting amused and wanted to see where all this talk is getting us to. "
****
“At one stage, I observed consciously from my half-opened
eyes to ensure that neither the chauffer nor Sax was looking our ways or betraying
expressions of knowledge from my view of their reflections on the windscreen. I
could only detect facial expressions of “no expressions” (which probably told
just as much;) )and was hoping that the loud external noise pollution from the
busy traffic whisking by was more than enough to mask our mating call. The
thrill of carnal indulgence with an audience within an enclosed moving
environment and the fear of getting busted only sought to heighten my pleasure
and excitement. I almost felt like I was seventeen again.
For the first time, we started to notice that there were
quite a number of huge vehicles of trucks whizzing past. I came to realise that
I could potentially have exposed myself many times over during romping and
provided free porn to truck drivers on our right side in the left-hand drive
traffic although our windows were tinted. The thought left me highly amused.”
**
“We got seated in the restaurant and it was then I realized
that one of the bows of my new shoes has gone missing. I think I must be beyond
consolation at the sight of my imperfection. At this time, I was also well
aware that I have also lost my beautiful diamante hair comb tucked into my
hair. I tried my darnest to tame my disheveled hair down to look at least half
decent. I pulled out my imperfect shoe and slapped it on the table. I needed it
fixed and for the imperfection to be undone- the panic attack within me set in
once more as I felt that I was losing control of my life and me. It did not
help that the alcohol in my system was magnifying my loss and heightening my
emotions. I could not bear the sight and my loss any further.
“Fix it! Fix my shoe, baby,” I demanded Ted before the guys.
“Look, what’s happen to my shoes! Do something about it! I cannot have shoes that look like this! I want my bow back!”
“I can’t! The shops are closed now and it’s 5 a.m in the morning!” Ted sounded so exasperated and it almost seemed like he was just about to cry or walk out on me.”
“Fix it! Fix my shoe, baby,” I demanded Ted before the guys.
“Look, what’s happen to my shoes! Do something about it! I cannot have shoes that look like this! I want my bow back!”
“I can’t! The shops are closed now and it’s 5 a.m in the morning!” Ted sounded so exasperated and it almost seemed like he was just about to cry or walk out on me.”
****
“As we walked around the edge of the pool, I bent down and
swinged my right hand playfully in the water to wash away the remnants of cum.
“Now your pool is filled with your cum.” I teased and gave him a half smile. Privately, I amused myself with the thought of Big M and his wife having a dip in the tainted pool.”
“Now your pool is filled with your cum.” I teased and gave him a half smile. Privately, I amused myself with the thought of Big M and his wife having a dip in the tainted pool.”
**
“So you don't enjoy wanking?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“Cos' it's tiring to my hand.” I replied matter-of-factly.
Big M was slightly taken aback by my candidness.
“Let's go now. After you have enough of your fun, it's my turn now. I need a drink.”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“Cos' it's tiring to my hand.” I replied matter-of-factly.
Big M was slightly taken aback by my candidness.
“Let's go now. After you have enough of your fun, it's my turn now. I need a drink.”
**
“Big M tried to keep his focus on the road but at quick
intervals, he turned his head to watch the pleasures of my expressions. I
spreaded my legs wider for a deeper penetration of his fingers. Big M was
thrilled. He lifted up my dress to get a better view. We had cars passing us by
and a truck in front of us. The fever of my excitement raced up a few notches
(as some of you would remember my secret fetish for a voyeuristic
stranger audience).”
****
"She moved his hand that
yielded his power to her. She guided his hand on her smooth bare skin. He felt
her belly and allowed his hand to rest there. She steered his palm to wander
upwards along her chest.Then she let it rest there. On the left of her
bare bosom. (She is ever so conscious of that part of her body). He
understood the profound implications of that gesture.
He freed that guided hand from
her grip to deny their desires. His escaped hand still underneath her T-shirt reappeared
in a split second of a lightning from her collar.
He seized her throat. Then,
turned her to eye him. He looked serious and maintained his gaze at her. He
further tightened his grip.
All the while, they continued to
focus on each other’s expression.
Up to a point, she began to feel
that asphyxiating discomfort from the ever-constricting clench. She grabbed his
wrist and pulled the hand away and broke free from his handle.”
****
"I have never danced so intimately with anyone in my life, with a
stranger breathing down my neck and smothering it with butterfly kisses
and with every heavier advances he made at me, I twirled myself
flirtatiously away and he twirled me back to him and I did a dip
backwards when he held me by the waist and lowered himself in an attempt
to kiss me on the lips, which I turned my face away.
I never found out his name. We danced and barely spoke, apart from his initial heavily Columbian accented English, “one, two, three…” as he counted to the beat of my dance steps initially. I noticed that he lingered near me even when the party was over and the club bouncers were slowly herding us out. I deliberately avoided his eye contact and hung close to my male colleague, the Accountant so that he didn’t have a chance to attempt chatting me up. I felt free because for once, I truly experienced first hand the essence of the art form that I have noticed during my nights in Havana and in the Latino clubs in Paris of Latino lovers raising the heat on the dance floor to a boiler as their sweaty bodies moved seductively towards each other, teasing the other with a quick twirl to unwrap an embrace or a backward dip, whilst their lusty expressions betrayed their hunger for each other’s touch. But what struck me most importantly from my experience was that given the intensity of that intimacy or dance floor chemistry (hitherto not experienced), I did not form an attachment or the need to acquaint myself with my dance partner. I felt libre. I truly did."
****
I never found out his name. We danced and barely spoke, apart from his initial heavily Columbian accented English, “one, two, three…” as he counted to the beat of my dance steps initially. I noticed that he lingered near me even when the party was over and the club bouncers were slowly herding us out. I deliberately avoided his eye contact and hung close to my male colleague, the Accountant so that he didn’t have a chance to attempt chatting me up. I felt free because for once, I truly experienced first hand the essence of the art form that I have noticed during my nights in Havana and in the Latino clubs in Paris of Latino lovers raising the heat on the dance floor to a boiler as their sweaty bodies moved seductively towards each other, teasing the other with a quick twirl to unwrap an embrace or a backward dip, whilst their lusty expressions betrayed their hunger for each other’s touch. But what struck me most importantly from my experience was that given the intensity of that intimacy or dance floor chemistry (hitherto not experienced), I did not form an attachment or the need to acquaint myself with my dance partner. I felt libre. I truly did."
****
“I remembered my favourite Cuban bolero “Besame Mucho” playing
away repeatedly on his laptop. When we finished our love-making, I would
continue lying on the bed, spacing out into the ceiling and singing “Besame
Mucho” away. The Boy would sit up and lit his Dunhills, taking long drags
at it and falling into a pensive mood. I involuntarily took in the smell of his
cigarette and noted the upwards spiral of the smoke.
“Don’t grow too fond of me,” he once said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t."
“Don’t grow too fond of me,” he once said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t."
I have heard this all too familiar line one
too a many time. So there.”
