Notes-The Mill

One look at the photograph taken in the early morning does not do the story justice. There I was. There was Jim. There was Lynn also on the far side of me. Sam was front and center, as he likes it, with me peering around him leaning on the bar. There was my cleavage pressing into Sam's arm. I had his bicep in my boobs grasp.That was the night I got what I had longed for. This night also drove home the words, “be careful what you wish for”.

My frustration had reached new heights that very day. Why is it the men I do not want peering at my breasts are always leering, while the man I want to show them off to would always speak to me eye to eye. I had never even caught Sam sneaking a peek. What I did not realize is just how sneaky he really was. But he is a man. Now he is my midnight Sam.

Notes - Pass Around Joy

Parked in the forest preserve with Beverly and I in the front seat, Reno and Joy in the back, while The Nanny was waiting impatiently at her work place for me to pick her up after theater practice.

I don't know why I always do this.

Well. Yes I do.

I fell in love way too young.

I stayed in love way too young.

Yet I wanted to partake of the strange and varied fruits that were out in the world.

Few were stranger or unusual as Beverly.

Still fewer were as bountiful as Joy.

There was much thrashing, smacking, and gnashing going on in the deep pool of blackness behind the front seat of my 1966 Pontiac Bonneville. Meanwhile I was awash in the moist resplendence and tossing throes between Beverly’s cheeks and tongue.

Notes-The Mill

I used to feel bad for some of the poor dears who became flustered when I bestowed my bounty on them. The gift of my big beautiful girls. I could always tell the ones who were accustomed to a thin strapped single clasped bra. Some were even foolish enough to search the front for release. Sweat would form on their dear flustered brows when faced with my full metal four clasp behind the back brassiere regalia.

Notes - Pass Around Joy

I put on side one of “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd and watched approvingly as the Nanny sprawled out on the floor level mattress with her long legs splayed for comfort.

Nanny had legs that made grown men burst into tears just watching her walk by, but here tonight with the silly knee socks of the nanny uniform she was like some Mary Poppins meets Catholic school girl mash-up. Her sipping a beer, limbs all akimbo, ensconced on my bed as the music rose had me set down my beer and drop slowly between her knees. My hand traced gently over her knee as she said, “If you are a good boy I’ll leave the socks on.”

She knew me too well.

Heard on the Street

A middle aged woman teetering down Belmont Avenue at Halsted Street shouting into her phone, "I haven't had sex in a long time Constance,  so I do not want to hear about it." 

She clatters down the sidewalk in her too short shorts and come fuck me heels. 

If my bus wasn't arriving I might have stepped up and volunteered. 

A Durable Men

Just got a spam e-mail stating they were looking for a durable men. Hmmmm...

Durable,doable,disposable.

D's are the times we live in.

Petey's Stoopid Thought For The Day

Life is a vacation from being dead.

I shall take that thought and now merrily run through my vacation time with more glee than ever.

When Shopping on the Aisle of Single Women

Pete Symes - Google+ - When shopping on the aisle of single women over fifty



'via Blog this'

Weekend Writing Warriors 03/16/14

Weekend Writing Warriors / #8sunday / 03/16/14

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8-sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday 03/15/14 and 9:00 AM on Sunday 03/16/14. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

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Life at the Sentient Bean / Casino

Casino

The last time I saw Fang Fang Wu she was physically and verbally assaulting a slot machine. At four foot eleven you may think  the Fangster would be easy to trifle with. That would be a serious miscalculation. But ask any slot machine, or dealer, car or otherwise and they will turn pale at the mention of this little force of nature.  Once her cold black eyes caught you, caught you were. Well I had to try to wrestle her away from the machine, because management was moving in the forces to stop her from trying to rip the arm off of the one armed bandit, but she knew it was payday and she was there to collect.

At this point she had mounted the machine and seemed to be trying to hump a payoff out of the machine while gibbering in what she claimed was her native tongue. I could never confirm nor deny that fact. 

WeWriWa guidelines
Sunday 9 AM EST, your WeWriWa/8sentence post must be what appears when the linky link is clicked.

Your WeWriWa intro/greeting and 8 sentence excerpt must be at the top of the post--nothing before.

Eight sentences for the story excerpt, please.

For poetry, limit the word count to 150 words.

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Petey's Stoopid Thought For The Day

Sentience is transient , whereas my sentences can run on and on and on and on... ad infinitum.

Petey's Stoopid Thought For The Day

I am proud to say that in spite of having the attention span of a Persimmon of late, I read all 

wewriwa.com 

blogs this week and added my knee jerk snarky take where I felt compelled to. 

But I thoroughly enjoyed each and every read. 

Thank you all.

Weekend Writing Warriors / 02/23/14

Weekend Writing Warriors / #8sunday / 02/23/14

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors! Sign up below with your name, blog and email and share an 8 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Your post needs to be live between 12:00 noon on Saturday 02/22/14 and 9:00 AM on Sunday 02/23/14. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their posts.

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Excerpt: Life at the Sentient Bean / Police

  I entered the sadly paint encrusted door at the Sentient Bean which gave up the throwback tinkle of a bell. I was determined to choke down my first cup of joe for the day. The Beard served it up adding the usual dose of existential insolence I had grown to expect from Jeemarie Bingalangbang. But as one of his hero’s would so clearly respond, “Such things cannot be sufficiently despised,” so I tossed him the spondulix, grunted, snatched the brew, and retreated to my favorite hovel of the premises. I think back in the fifties the Sentient Bean had been one of those Armenian restaurants. Booths built into the wall with an onion dome frame and a decidedly casbah motif of lattice work in extended base relief. You never knew what was on this side of the wall but fortunately on the other side of the lattice. I know I did not want to know.

Petey's Stoopid Thought For The Day

The best thing about making Sunday morning breakfast for two is that it means you got lucky the night before.