Sunday, February 19, 2006

Eating and drinking

"I wanna eat you up", I breathed into his ear.

"I wanna eat you first", said he, pushing me back.

I watched as he nibbled the skin along my waist and belly on his way down.

Shyler's touch is sweet and soft like honey til a certain point, then he starts to get really, really rough on me.

Making out with him is like having my body worshipped... he stops mid-kiss to run his nose down my throat and gently sniffs at my skin until finds my pert nipple to enclose softly with his lips. He strokes my arm languidly from shoulder to hand before pinning my wrists to the pillow as he plunges his tongue back into my mouth.

And when he fucks me, he does it very, very hard.

Missionary sky-foot is his favourite position. He'll hold my ankles together, legs straight and knees resting at his left shoulder as he grinds himself into me.

He'll lift my hips slightly off the bed now and then in his passion, his cock already fully thrust to the hilt into me, as if trying to bury it deeper than already possible. Unlike Chris, Shyler grunts mannishly as he fucks me once he really gets into it. I find it quite gratifying to hear myself being ravaged so by him, nothing like enthusiasm to turn a person on.

He'd made it down to my honey-pot and began licking at a feverish pace. Then he spread the folds of my lips apart and drove his tongue in as far as it would go, practically hurting me. Just as I got used to the sensation of being fucked by his hot, hard, tongue, he suddenly withdrew it and forced two fingers inside roughly, making me gasp.

I'm one of those lucky women who can cum vaginally as well as clitorally, as opposed to a lot who just can't achieve orgasm through penetration alone. Very early on in my sexual exploration I discovered the wonder of my g-spot.

Which Shyler was directly stimulating with the crazy, thrusting, come-hither motions of his fingers.

"Oh my god!!" I cried out helplessly. After cumming, I sat up and looked him straight in the eye. "I need it now, I need it real bad, right now!" .

"What happened to eating me up?" he smirked.

"I'll do it later, whatever you want. You can come in my mouth and I promise I'll swallow" I pleaded. "Just put it in me now... please?"

So he did of course, and we didn't last ten minutes.

It's way too animalistic with me and him sometimes. Once we reach that point of no return, it's completely explosive and there's just no holding back.

What a shame he's only mine every couple months or so. But I suppose that's what makes the sex between us so rabid.

Well Shyler, I did promise I'd swallow the next time. So until then, please remember to drink lots of pineapple juice.

I'm sure your girlfriend will thank me for it too.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Sweet, sweet sorrow.

I've always hated Valentine's...

This year, the clock's barely struck twelve and already I'm a mess. Tara's gone, and I don't know when I'll see her again. And I can't bear to think how long it'll be before I do, because it was two years ago last she was back.

We had the best time today, just the two of us from 12 to 12 exactly. 12 hours of happy, carefree, bliss. Eating, drinking, laughing. And enough shopping to make me feel guilty, which rarely happens. We scoffed at the street peddlars hawking their overpriced rose stems as we walked arm in arm down the street, incredulous when they approached us. We'd joked that it was our own version of Valentines, since she'll be spending the real day on the plane flying back to Munich.

Our day had started with lunch at a bistro, the two of us leisurely enjoying our salads, soups, cake and champagne. Then a manicure, pedicure and massage at a salon, to ease our minds from the impending goodbye. I must have bought an entire new wardrobe of lingerie and baubles to add to my massive collections. Again, all just a distraction from the pain.

Then after a decadent dinner comprising altogether too much food for two rather slight females, the night finally drew to an end at a wine bar.

It was downright painful to say goodbye. We couldn't stop holding each other as the cabs waited to whisk us away, and it was a struggle for me to maintain my composure. I can't let her see me cry, and I'll do everything in my power just not to unecessarily upset her.

Though goddamnit, I'm in pieces now.

Today was a final crescendo in the past five weeks. She's been here with me, through the recent period's madness, Chinese New Year and all. We've gone out dancing alone, she waited with me in the wee mornings til Chris showed up, she laughed with me over the sordid details, she shrugged with me when it ended.

But there's no one to comfort me now that she's gone, and nothing compares to this. Men be damned.

The cheap shiraz can't drown my sorrow, and I've had so much I feel ill.
Yet I know that tomorrow will be better... because pain like everything else in life is transient, and we have an amazing capacity to forget.

So just for tonight, I'll weep without restraint. Because I love her unconditionally, and slightly more than I should. And it hurts so much to know she won't be here anymore when she feels so much a part of me now.

I've always hated Valentine's...

Friday, February 10, 2006

Office politics

Oh dear.

It seems I was right about Josh from work. I hate it when you can just tell when a guy's somewhat interested and you know you have to be a wet blanket and nip things in the bud, even when all he's being is friendly.

It's one of those things that just has to happen initially. Him and I being the two youngest in the office and on the closest mental frequency.

It started last week with the tiniest signals: He and I finding ourselves sitting next to each other during conferences, mine being the first number he'd asked for before all the new staff members exchanged contacts, the occasional playful rib or two directed my way.

Then he added me on messenger and now we're talking late at night from home. Things are still being kept to a polite work level, but when they can't stop asking questions about every little thing you mention and want to be around you at every possible work opportunity, you pretty much know you're treading into murkier territory.

This of course, is where I should step on the brakes.

I can see what's going on and where it has the potential to go. If I don't pull away now, in a week or two we'll be getting lunch together with less and less people coming with us, finding excuses to step out of the office for short breaks alone and trading smug, insider jokes.

Before you know it, every accidental or deliberate physical contact between us will bristle with latent energy. We'll no longer be able to look each other in eye without feeling a current, and that's when it'll come to a climax: make a decision and cross the line, or crash and burn.

Also by that point, the more finely attuned of our colleagues would probably have picked up on our closeness, then they'd confirm it with each other and that's approximately when all hell breaks loose, ie: Houston, our office-romance rumour has taken flight...

I've seen it happen too many times to pretend, and my intuition is seldom wrong when it rings to say someone is trying their luck. Which is why I politely informed him I was going to bed now, and though we're both still online, he's been conveniently blocked from seeing me.

But it's also wickedly fun when you know what reaction you can incite from someone, and I have to admit that I haven't completely recovered from the recent loss of Chris... and maybe that's why even though I've quite firmly decided that the office is the last place I will get involved with someone at, I'm still deciding if I should be good and wear my pencil skirt (the one that hugs my ass like clingwrap and gives such a good back view that drivers willingly slow down and let me jaywalk) with the flat pointy slingbacks, or be a proper devil and amp up the volume in the 3" peep-toes.

TGIF.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Memoirs of a gold digger

"Have you seen Memoirs of a Geisha yet?" Benny asked me over our late night coffee.

"Yes, I loved it.. the kimonos were beautiful!" I gushed, expecting the conversation to skew towards the inappropriately intense blue of Zhang Ziyi's contacts.

"Yes darling. Now you know what?... You need a danna!" he proclaimed with flourish, his queer glory shining through.

"Why don't you call on Mr. CEO?" He suggested coyly, referring to the Honkie MNC director who'd chatted me up and given me his card at a cafe some time back.

"Eew! That guy's about 60 years old!" I shrieked.

And so Benny proceeded to extoll the virtues of older men. Much, much older men... we're talking 60's and beyond. His take on the matter is that if the geezers are that ancient, you don't actually have to do very much in bed. And at that age, most of them are so lonely they'll do pretty much anything in the world for the attention of a sweet young thing.

He should know. He's got ten different ones lapping at his fingertips at any one time.

They send him money for over-quoted plane tickets, bring him around at their expense and buy him presents, all the while declaring their undying love and devotion to him. Which is why he spends a quarter of the year travelling the world for free, and a good amount of the rest of the time entertaining the ones who travel here to see him while staying at five star hotels in town and shopping at upscale boutiques.

And you thought I was scandalous..........

Too bad I'm not 22 anymore, or I'd take his advice and take a service job at a mens' couture boutique. Plenty of opportunity to meet restless Indonesian Chinese businessmen. Apparently a girlfriend of his who's kept by a Malaysian datuk and gets RM$15,000 monthly maintanence met hers that way. She lives in Kuala Lumpur but she shops in Milan.

Too bad also, that I doubt I have the patience or temperament for the kind of maintanence that would be expected of me. Benny says it's practically a full-time job keeping all his benefactors emotionally placated: he sends valentine love notes, chats with them online simultaneously and sends the occasional small 'I was just thinking of you baby..' gift in the mail.

I on the other hand, have missed countless birthdays, valentines, and christmases with men I've had actual relationships with. Please don't even bring up anniversaries.

Plus there's the fact that I've a slightly voracious appetite for doin' the do when I'm in the mood for it. The mind-blowingly satisfying, give-it-to-me-til-I'm-fucked-senseless kind of dirty, hedonistic sex. Which I really don't think a geriatric would be able to afford me, viagra or not. I'm also very elitist in my physical requirements, I never fake it, and I'm not about to start.

"Who says you have to do anything?" sniffed Benny.

"Just meet him for lunch or something, and be his hot young friend. Tell him how sick you are of younger guys who are so shallow and just into you for your body, and how refreshing it is to be able to talk to someone who's intelligent. Then tell him you're saving up really hard to buy yourself that laptop/Chanel bag/Rolex you want, cos you're birthday is coming up. And then when your 'birthday' rolls round and he asks if you bought it for yourself, suddenly go all quiet and sad and tell him you couldn't cos you had to pay for something really important. And if he doesn't buy it for you within the next 2 weeks then don't bother."

I do admire Benny's matter-of-fact nonchalance. My birthday won't be coming round soon (thank god) and I believe in karma (or at least not deliberately fooling people for profit) so I doubt I'd be able to pull it off.

But if anyone knows some old sucker and has the stomach for it, let me know how it goes okay?

Sunday, February 05, 2006

End of the affair

So guess who I saw tonight at the winebar? None other than Chris. Whom I hadn't heard from nor contacted since our last bout of activity earlier this week, though it feels like it happened a month ago now. He was talking to a girl no less, and quite apparently on a date of sorts.

I'm still in the midst of deciding what exactly I feel on the matter.

Strangely empty is how I'll describe it for now. I'm not in pain over the fact that things have come to an end between us, though if I'd had my way, it would have lasted a good few more months. For sure though, I'm contemplating the reality of not having ready access to decent sex for a while, being picky as I am. And the horizon doesn't seem very bright. Not with Shyler so occupied with his new girlfriend and my having decided not to be involved with Wang anymore.

In the entire club, there wasn't a single male whom I was remotely inclined to flirt with, let alone bring home at the end of the night. A total of four did try to pick me up and all of them were white, which I'm just not really into.

There was however, one woman who caught my eye. A beautiful, tofu-skinned lass in full Japanese costume. Authentic too, because it turns out she'd worn it for a wedding. Alas, she was coyly flirting with a Euro-trash-looking piece of beefcake.

So looks like I'm left stranded. No more Chris, no more Wang, no Shyler, and no kimono-wrapped beauty for me to unravel either. Worst of all, no other potential prospects. Needless to say, I'm feeling slightly sad, though not for the reasons I probably should be.

Looks like I may have to resort to purchasing a vibrating, phallic-shaped piece of silicone after all...

Friday, February 03, 2006

Alternative for the alternative

I'd been meaning to write about Shyler for some time now, so it's unfortunate that the only thing I have to tell you about him at this moment is that he hasn't any time for me.

Shyler is formidably attractive, and not just physically. He is a veritable woman-magnet wherever he goes, to the point that it is near impossible to walk into a room with him without his being accosted by at least one or two females vying for his attention.

He's also what they call, a man-whore.

Revelling shamelessly in every ounce of attention he receives, he has a way of making every woman he speaks to feel like the singular, most worthy creature of his rapture in the entire universe. (okay, club.) It's akin to floating on a dopey, drug-induced high, then craving to have it again immediately after its been taken away. That's the effect he has on women, and I'm practically no exception.

Except that I'm one of the few constant contenders of his very many indiscretions, for Shyler's an incorrigible womaniser as well. And which man in his position wouldn't be? It's like having a buffet spread of all-you-can-eat delicatessens in front of a diabetic child all day long.

He knows it's wrong, but he never stops indulging. Similarly, I always know it's futile, but I still try and initiate appointments with him now and then.

The thing about Shyler though, is that he can't be invited into anyone's company. As and when he chooses to, he comes to you. And don't ever make the mistake of holding him to his word because the man makes all sorts of heartfelt promises, only to greet your phonecall the next day with an innocent-sounding, "so what can I do for you, beautiful?"

He had the good fortune of being on leave the whole of this week and we'd had sort of a standing arrangement to catch up on old times today. But when yesterday evening rolled round and I'd not heard a peep from him, I knew it wasn't to be.

As it turns out, his girlfriend had suddenly applied for leave to be with him instead, and they'd left for a nearby island for a quick getaway.

Doesn't that make me the pathetic, leftover-in-waiting then, you might say?

Well, not quite. For one thing, I certainly don't envy the girl. Nor did I all the ones before her, as badly deceived as the next, whose relationships with him also went unrespected by him and me.. yes, we've known each other for some time now.

I may adore the post-coital cuddling he's so patient for and everything before and after that point, but at times like this when he shows himself as the true self-serving cheater that he is, I simply shrug and mutter, "typical".

And that's that.

With any luck, in a month or three he will decide to look me up again, but my point this evening is that I really need to be making the acquaintances of new playmates in lieu of his absence as (perhaps you may have noticed) I'm not a big fan of monogamy, even when all I indulge in are essentially flings.

And so hunting season is about to begin very soon...