Start. stop. start again.

Back from my short sabbatical.

Spiritual self-reflection, you could call it. Even heathens like me need some from time to time.

No, I haven't decided to join the convent yet. Somehow I doubt that disappoints you...

Anyway.

It must have been because Chris had suddenly called up out of the blue, asking how I was, that I had that strange, erotic dream the other night. Me and another girl had been hired to please a rather commanding, middle-aged man and I was administering whipped cream onto her nipples, then mine, for him to lick off. The dream ended just as I'd sprayed some onto my bare pubic region in the shape of a heart while straddling his chest.

Any takers for some original (and non-obvious) dream interpretation?

The civil conversation between Chris and me lasted about five minutes before we ran out of things to say.

"So how's things with the new girl?"

"Fine. Yourself, any new guys?"

"Nah.. no new blood on my end."

"No-one's been messing your bedsheets then?"

"That was naughty... not since you, I'm afraid."

And that was that. It's always been nothing but small talk between us, and that's never going to change. I did want to ask if his girlfriend ever shaved him, but nice girls like her probably don't do such things. And besides, he probably would have mentioned I was right about regrowth being a bitch.

Goddamn though, he's still the best looker I've done yet. Too bad about the sedate personality.

Oh well. Fair's fair right?