Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

She Danced Into My Fairytale - Part Three - A Baby Bi-Girl Shares Her First Time

Missed Parts One and Two of She Danced Into My Fairytale? CLICK HERE to read Part One and CLICK HERE to read Part Two.

Saturday morning the ballerina was the first thing on my mind. My man and I had our coffee and breakfast together and he headed out to work in the yard. I took a walk down to Danya’s. I had to talk to a girl. I was overflowing from the night before. My face was blushed and I was silly with excitement for this human. I slipped into Danya’s little house and fell onto a pile of pillows on her floor. She knew.

She put the water onto boil for tea and told me how sweet the two of us looked next to the fire the night before. “I knooooow,” I said. “I wanna go see her now. She’s soooo pretty and magical and electric.”

“I knew it,” she said. “I told you.”

“You were sooo right! How did you know?”

“I just know,” she said with heavy eyes. “Pussy is incredible you know? It’s addicting. Men kill for it. It’s like a temple. You’ll want to worship there.”

“Oh, God, D., I wanna go see her now,” I said hugging the pillows. “But I have to be cool. Shit! How do I be cool?”

“Yeah, nobody likes heavy things,” she said wisely. “Here!” She threw a stack of Goddess Tarot Cards at me and said, “Shuffle these and pick one.”

“I don’t want to,” I said not wanting to jinx anything.

“Do it,” she demanded. “The cards never lie.”

She was the boss. I did as she said and picked the quiet goddess card. She told me to be peaceful and meditative. “Pick another,” she said. I picked the courage goddess, Freyja. Freyja told me to be bold and brave and take the chance. Freya rode on a heavenly chariot pulled by cats. “There you go! That’s the one,” Danya said with a wink and a stir of her tea. “Go ahead and pick one more, you can never pick too many.” I picked the protection goddess. She told me not to worry. She advised me to take a moment to breathe, be silent, and “be cool”. Do what is natural and do not hesitate for the goddesses got my back.

Just then, Danya’s sweet friend Pamela showed up and wanted to go for a swim in the pools. We walked down the path, untied our sarongs and dove in. We practiced a little silence like the first card said and let the cold spring water rejuvenate our nude bodies.

In my silence, I did not notice the ballerina coming down the trails. I looked up and there she was, smiling right in front of me. The look on my face was priceless. I couldn’t hold her gaze; I had to look away. She was with her man and they were heading up to the Queen’s Pool. Danya invited her to come back to join us when she was done. I could barely look at her, when I did she was smiling at me. I was floating on water. Danya flashed me her instigator grin and clued Pamela in on the story so she didn’t feel left out. “How exiting!” she gasped with the prettiest grin. She confessed that she too had a crush on her girlfriend. How lucky I was to be sitting with such classy, sexy, elder ladies who understand and love women so thoroughly?!

I was enjoying our conversation when the ballerina snuck up from behind, sat right up against me, and kissed my cheek. I leaned into her and fell right into the erotic energy left over from the night before. I was in Heaven. Danya and Pamela felt like taking naps so I suggested that we all four take a trip to the “Dragon Tree” in the “Groovy Grass.” I decided to bring a picnic, some polish, some smoke, a blanket and pillows. Who could resist a plan like that? Not the ballerina.

We gathered up our things and headed toward the tall iron wood tree that stands solid like the spine of a good man while her branches curve down as if cradling the earth below. Under her branches, the ladies got comfy for their naps.

You know I wasn’t sleepy. The ballerina wasn’t sleepy either. I untied my sarong and ran out into the bouncy field. I threw myself onto my back feeling like a little girl. She came running after and fell next to my side. Two beautiful nude women under the sun, invisible in the grass. Our bodies connected. My arm under her neck. Her head on my shoulder. Her arm around my waist. Her leg over my legs. She wrapped herself around me and a blast of masculinity shot through my body in a way I had never experienced before. I knew I had a masculine side, but I had never felt it in its entirety until she curled up next to me the way I curl up to my man.

I kissed her head and each one of her fingertips. Whispers of woooow were repeated. Heavy breathing and neck kisses and cheek kisses. Her fingers were so small. The same size of my own. We sat up and looked at each other and talked about how wonderful the night before had been and how perfect the moment felt. We gazed into each other’s eyes and fell back into our grassy nest.

I propped my head up with my hand so that I could get a proper view of her perfect breasts. I could still taste them from the night before. I squeezed her nipples between my thumb and finger and told her how immaculate they were. I placed the tip of my tongue on the tip of her breast and fell into infancy as I sucked her perked dark pink nipple into my mouth. A fantasy, no longer a fantasy.

I opened my mouth and explored her entire breast with my tongue. I started to feel like I was getting lost in my own bliss, so I looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry, I just can’t help it. Is this all okay?”

“Of course,” she said. We both sat up to catch a breeze and to make sure that it was all really happening.

“It’s hot,” I said.

“Well, yeah,” she says. “It’s hot, but…..of course, it’s hot.” We smile at each other and fall back into our grassy nest.

“I want to make love to you,” I said as I kissed her soft belly. She didn’t say anything. “We can take it as slow as you want, but that’s what I want. Maybe not today, maybe in the moonlight, but definitely here,” I said as I rub her down with my hands.

“Well, we’re here now,” she said with her hands covering her eyes. She then lifted her head up to see my face. My stomach flipped.

I brought my face up to meet hers. “I kissed a girl when I was thirteen years old, but I have never kissed a woman.”

“Me either,” she said and kissed my cheek. We leaned in and our lips met very softly. Slowly we pressed our lips together. Mmm. We moaned and released. We leaned in again, this time with open mouths so our tongues could meet. Her mouth felt so tiny.

I reached my hand down to touch her opening with the tip of my finger. She was dripping wet and I was melting. I kissed her and started sliding my finger inside of her soft body. I slipped all the way in and she smiled and covered her eyes. One slick investigating finger and I felt like I was fingering myself. I pulled out and added one. Two fingers. I pulled out and added one. Three fingers. She was soaking wet all over my hand. I was sliding in and out in a fast rhythm that slow danced with her hips. I didn’t want her to come so I pulled out my three fingers and held them up to the sunlight. They glistened. I spread them out to see the juice string from one finger to the other. Clear, slick, fucking gorgeous juice. She reached up to touch them and said, “Wooow, that’s beautiful.” I licked the juice off one of my fingers and had her lick her juice from the other two.

I sat up and began to kiss my way way down the ballerina’s belly. I reached the top of her sex and kissed the tip and took a deep breath of her beautiful scent and rubbed my cheaks against her inner thighs, and ran my nose down her clitoris and barely tasted her juice. Maybe she thought I was nervous so she told me to take my time. I wasn’t nervous at all, but in no way was I going to rush the experience.

She tasted like rose water. She smelled like a girl. I pressed my nose against her clitoris and she responded with pressure asking me to dive in. I ran the width of my tongue up from the base of her pussy to the hood of her clit and around and around. I licked the side of her labia up and down, fast and slow, and in small circles feeling her grow in my mouth. I licked the other side up and down, fast and slow and in little circles feeling her grown even larger. Then I sucked her entire clit into my mouth and did to her what I dream of a woman doing to me.

She tried to sit up to watch. I can understand that, but I wanted her relaxed on her back. So I slipped a finger inside. You know you can’t sit up with that. She fell back and I brought the girl to climax in my mouth. I pulled my mouth back to see her juice. Thicker this time. I opened my mouth so she could see her juice on my tongue. I kissed her deeply and fell into her arms.

She let me give like I wanted to give and held me like I needed to be held. We laid there in amazement and throbs of bliss. Catching our breath for more.

TO BE CONTINUED…
JUNGLE JANE

Toronto Alley Catz

Last Saturday Night, a group of Toronto Bigirls went out for a night of dinner, dancing and debauchery.  We had met previously at the Bliss Brunch and some of the ladies had sparked up a few flames before the night even started.  Thanks to Hotel Bliss, we passed on emails to eachother in anticipation of our evening out.  What a great way to create sexual tension!

We met for dinner at a Jazz Club called AlleyCatz.  Situated in a cozy and dark corner of the lounge, we were able to flirt and fondle eachother unabashedly.  I was treated to a most delicious kissing session in the bathroom by one of our luscious ladies.  We giggled over our meals while exposing our breasts to each other and nuzzling naughtily!

After dinner, we headed downtown to Slacks, a lesbian bar in the gay district.  The party continued as we danced, flirted and teased eachother playfully.  From this point in the evening, I was whisked away by 2 of our gorgeous bigirls to a hotel room where we indulged in each others sexuality.  It was electric, erotic, exciting and enthralling…I am still pinching myself to wake up from this experience!  All I can say to all of you Bliss Warriors out there is that our Toronto Bigirls are bodacious, beautiful, brilliant and brazen.

I can’t wait for our next events coming up in August…the Back Alley Sexy Book Swap and Lunch and the Sensual Dinner at The Sultan’s Tent.

Please contact me for more details and stay tuned for our next racey report from Toronto!

Are you coming out or staying in?

You’ve seen someone do it. You’ve probably done it yourself. I have.

I had recently been introduced to someone by my friends, and I made the casual-yet-daring remark that I was bi. As soon as I said it, I hit myself mentally. I felt overextended, overexposed. Here was a near stranger, and I was already telling them I was bi. Is this how I want myself defined? As the bi girl?

Well, you’re probably saying, where’s the harm in that? You should be proud to be bi. And yes, I know that people tend to describe others by things like gender, sexual orientation and race. But is that the thing you want to sum up your identity? Is that how you want to be judged by others, by who you have sex with?

Love is one thing, and sharing who you love with people is quite different… but what kind of sex you have is not something people have to acknowledge you for. Many women are with men, married or dating… yet like to play with girls on the side, or have a secondary relationship with a woman… Why would you need to tell your parents you have threesomes? Who really is on a need-to-know basis about your sex life besides your lover(s) and your gynecologist? Why does being private and secret about one’s sexuality/sex life equal being ashamed of who we are? It’s not shame; it is reserving the knowledge of who we are to our lovers and friends.

It is none of your parents’ or boss’s or coworker’s business whom you have sex with. Long term relationships, marriages, those things are different. But the type of person or acts that are involved in your sex life is not their business. Do you need to know about your boss’s or parent’s sex life (besides the obvious your parents had hetero sex at least once to have you thing)?

In a perfect world, we would be loved for all the depth and breadth of who we are as people. Yet most everyone sees only a slice of who we are: who you are at your job, who you are with your parents, or your siblings, your friends, your lover, your spouse. You will show different aspects of yourself based on who you are with. That may or may not include your sexuality. You can be respected, admired, loved for an aspect of you without being loved for all of you. That is why it is so special when someone comes along who does love all of you.

Being bisexual is not the only thing that makes you lovely, lovable, interesting, sexy, or open-minded. There is much more to you than who you have sex with and someone can appreciate who you are without knowing or appreciating your sex life.

Excuses

My thoughts on Coming Out

So far, I have only come out to one very trusted family member (out of SEVERAL…I’ve got kind of a big family) and a few close friends. Today, I was rereading Ripley’s block about bisexuality being our skeleton in the closet, and it got me thinking. I loved Bliss’ comment about the reasons bi-girls come out to their family. In some ways, I think of it almost as a test - this is who I am, will you love me anyway? Hmm…

At one point, I was talking to a then-good friend of mine who is an OUTRAGEOUSLY out of the closet and, if you will, over-the-top (as little as I like to stereotype people) lesbian. I had been having a really difficult time keeping “my secret” from everyone – it didn’t feel right. It was who I was, not a new pastime. I mentioned to her that I had been thinking about coming out to some of my family, because I was tired of having to be someone I wasn’t around them. The moment I said it, she practically flew off the handle. She was livid that I was considering coming out for such a “bullshit in-between stage” of my life. “Some people have to worry about REALLY coming out, instead of just some stupid attention stunt” is what she told me. And that, to me, was example one of why bi-girls are so afraid to come out. As of right now, we come out to people and tell them we’re bi, we’re scum in the LGBT world, and we’re sluts in the straight world. As Ripley wrote, we’re the laughing stock in regards to sexuality.

Example number two, at least in my case, is the family role. As one point while I still lived at home, my parents decided to read all of my emails – yes, all of them. Unfortunately, I had been talking to an online friend about my thoughts on my sexuality and had even gone so far as to talk about my crushes, etc. The drama that ensued is something I couldn’t wish upon anyone. There were doctors, therapists, pastors, everyone my parents could find to help me with my “problem.” I lied, cried, died a little – but managed to convince them that I thought “queerness” was an ugly sin – something I couldn’t understand or dream of experiencing. It was only a joke, just a joke. I think they believed me more out of desire for me to be their normal little girl than any finagling on my part. Beyond that, my brother is, for lack of a better term, a very gung-ho Marine – complete with extreme homophobia and all. I remember him calling to talk to me during the incident with my parents and telling me, over and over, how disappointed he was with me and how ashamed he was to call me his sister. Yeah, ouch.

After such a happily-almost forgotten memory, it’s time to move on. Reason number three (and this really only applies to those who want to live the lifestyle, if you will, publicly). I don’t know how other women feel about coming out on the job – obviously, the lovely AquaMermaid did, with mixed results (hope that’s going well, by the way). For some people, it really isn’t that simple. Through various connections of which I am somewhat ashamed, I currently work at a flagrantly Christian restaurant – one which would immediately find cause to fire me (of course, not because of my sexual orientation, but rather…I’ve all of the sudden become EXTREMELY rude and insubordinate ;)) if I ever were to reveal my orientation. In fact, there is currently a vicious (and vehemently denied – was that the right choice?) rumor going about work that I’m a straight-up lesbian, and that if the new girls don’t watch out for me, I may girl-rape them. Yeah, I know. But I work with a bunch of 16-year-olds, so I guess I can’t expect much better.  As a result of the current rumor, my hours at work have been taken from a hefty 52 a week to a mere 26 as of last week. Gotta love Southern Hospitality…

And those, my dear friends, are just a few of the many excuses I have conjured up to avoid coming out to those I love. The bottom line, however, is this – I’m scared. Terrified of the repercussions, terrified that my family may shut me out completely…that and homeless just really doesn’t sound that good to me right now – unfortunately, I do need my job.

I admire, more than anything else in the world, practically, an “out” bi-girl – someone who can be open with her sexuality, no matter what the consequences. Girls like AquaMermaid, Bliss, Croftee – I envy you. You can be open, honest, yourselves with people because you know, accept and even relish the woman you are. Those of us who fear the inevitable backlash from such a freeing confession can only stare in wonder at the wonderful women who overcame their fear and self-doubt. I applaud each of you wholeheartedly.

That’s the end of my much-needed rant…almost. I need an internet connection! Libraries are LAAAME. OK, that’s really the end.

Love to all

Obsession.

I have an obsession with men in uniform.
Not to mention a female in uniform gets me going too.

The Balancing Act

Just when I thought that I got a great handle of things more or less with my comfort level of myself, something unexpected arises….

Just last week, I married the man of my dreams. He is my best friend, my companion, my everything. He has helped me immensely with my feelings and the process of which I went through of finally accepting myself without the guilt. It did not occur to me that when I got married, in some ways, this would change and morph into something that I wasn’t prepared for.

It’s not him..It’s me!

Ever since, I have felt actually guilty for being bi. Everytime I looked longer than I should have at a cute girl, I felt like I was being disloyal in some way. I do not know why this is happening. I feel like a hypocrite now, because I was this adovate of being true to oneself throught anything in any circumstance. I have gotten actually pissed at some of my friends when they did a 180 spin after they were married. Now, I feel like the biggest jackass of them all. To add insult to injury, it isn’t as if I am even mingling in the least bit. Wish to god sometimes it would be able to actually meet like girls in the flesh without worry, but now I wish girls would disappear from my sight..because I feel like I am not the wife that he deserves.. that he deserves someone who will give 100% to him. The sad part is , I don’t know what that 100% is…my love? my body? my support?

Can I get over myself?

Can I forgive myself?

Can I just realize… that I can adore both and still be a wife like any other?

Girl Fight!

I must admit, the title of this entry may be a little misleading, but “The Lesbian at Work Who Won’t Stop Stalking Me” wasn’t a very catchy title.

I started my new job as an educational counselor one week and two days ago, where I immediately began training. There are hundreds of policies and procedures to go over, and training was scheduled to take two weeks in a classroom, followed by two weeks of hands-on training. I was surprised to see that I was the only new hire. The one and only other member of my training class was a short, heavyset blond woman with glasses who had been with the company for years. She had a permanent frown etched across her face, which was very unappealing. I didn’t immediately catch why she was going through training again. She came in a bit late on the first day and stomped–rather than walked–to her seat and plopped down. I came to discover later that this was how she walked, she wasn’t in a bad mood as I immediately assumed.

I was introduced to “Donna” and training began. Over the first two days, she proved to be mostly withdrawn, although she offered some good points periodically, which I made sure to pay attention to, since she claimed to have been a counselor before. This was my first red flag. I began to ponder why, if she was such an efficient counselor, was she required to go through training again. I shrugged it off and figured it was no business of mine.

As training progressed, she became more animated, and I began to open up and let my bubbly, cynical and sometimes outrageous personality shine through, especially after my training supervisor, Kali, informed me that one of the main reasons I had been hired was because of my “incredible, personable” personality. “That was their first mistake,” I thought, laughing to myself.

Nevertheless, as I began to joke around in class, Donna started talking more in general. She and Kali had a working relationship, and Donna seemed less hesitant to share bits of office gossip in front of me. When it was time to take a break, she and Kali would smoke, and for lack of anything better to do, I listened to them share stories. As the breaks progressed throughout the week, Donna started talking more and more about her personal life. I absorbed that she had been in a 12-year relationship, which had ended badly recently. Also, when she mentioned her significant other’s name, it sounded like “Lola”, but I couldn’t be sure. It was none of my business, so I didn’t ask.

Looking back, I should have seen the second red flag waving in my face. As Donna continued to share information about her personal life, she became more self-absorbed and interested only in talking about her feelings. I am extremely open about my personal life, but even I don’t make it a point of talking about terrible relationships… and eventually making a point of telling the new girl, “I’m gay.” Now, my in naiveté, I jumped at the chance to divulge my bisexuality, figuring that I could benefit from the friendship of a like-minded woman. When I admitted I was bi, she raised her eyebrows and returned to talking about her relationship, so I figured there had been no harm done.

I was wrong. In the following days, Donna became increasingly more attached to me. By Thursday, she made it a point to take a walk with me on breaks, as I had decided to do, instead of standing and smoking with Kali. On our first walk together around the vast parking lot, she grabbed me by the arm suddenly and gruffly put her arm around my shoulders. I was uncomfortable, but shocked, and unsure of what to do, so I did nothing. I was relieved when she took her arm back, but figured it had been a one-time occurrence. I was more worried that coworkers would see her gesture and rumors that “the new girl is gay!” would fly around the office, since Donna was so open about being gay herself. Luckily, no one saw (that I was aware of), and so I forgot about it.

On Friday afternoon, as our first week of training neared an end, Donna began asking myself and Kali if we had plans for the weekend. Kali was going to hang out with her roommate at Bastille Days (a French festival in the area) and I was going to a church festival that specialized in Greek food. “That sounds interesting,” Donna said to me. Again, my instinct to reach out to new people and make friends took over, and I heard myself saying, “I’m going with my boyfriend. If you want to go, you can hang out with us.” Before I knew it, I had a second date for that evening.

On the way to the festival, I told my boyfriend about Donna, preparing him for the night ahead, since he was already under duress since he doesn’t enjoy Greek food. I figured he should know that Donna was gay, and I began to tell him how she had made a point of telling me about her personal life. My boyfriend is the best judge of character I’ve ever met, and informed me that the things I told him about Donna made him uneasy about her. “I’ll bet she’s the one in the office who never stops telling everyone about her personal life,” he predicted. “You’re wrong,” I said, unsure. “I really hope you’re wrong.”

Donna met us at the festival in front of the beer tent. “What do you want,” she asked me. I protested, saying I could purchase my own drinks, but she insisted. “I make way more money than you do,” she reasoned. Having been out of work for two months prior to this job, I found it hard to argue. Donna bought me not one, but five glasses of wine (which, to my credit, were extremely small), and began to give me an overview of who to talk to and who to avoid in the office. Some of her comments were a little derogatory, but I tried to keep a sound mind and not pass judgment until I had a chance to get to know everyone myself.

After her fifth beer, Donna looked at me very seriously, put her arm around me again and roughly pulled me close to her. “You know, I’m looking out for you,” She slurred. “You’re lucky you have me on your side.” I squirmed away from her, muttered a “thanks,” and caught up to my boyfriend, who gave me an “I-told-you-so” look.

After the festival, Donna text messaged me, asking me to call her when I got home safe. I tried to tell myself that it was a nice gesture, but I still dreaded making the phone call when I arrived in my driveway. I kept the conversation short, telling her I was tired and I wanted to go to bed, but I couldn’t help but listen to the nagging voice in my head that this wasn’t over just yet.

Donna continued to text me three more times that evening, each message more indecipherable than the next. It appeared that she had continued drinking and was trying to give me compliments, but I wasn’t sure, so I ignored them and went to bed.

The next day, I received two more text messages from Donna while I was at the gym, thanking me for inviting her. I ignored them and went about my day. About two hours later, she texted me again, this time urgently asking if she had somehow offended me. Again, I ignored the message. The next one came shortly after, saying she had gone with her gut instinct with me and thought I was a “good egg,” but maybe she was wrong. I finally replied to her, saying she didn’t have to worry, I was just busy. Finally the messages stopped. But I already knew I had unleashed a monster.

The next day, I received more text messages, asking how my Saturday night was and asking what kind of coffee she should bring me for Monday’s training session. I had worked out a coffee trade-off with her earlier, where she would get me coffee in the morning since she was already stopping, and I wouldn’t have to go out of my way, so I replied with regards to the coffee.

Monday morning, coffee was waiting for me on my desk when I arrived at training. Donna, however, wasn’t there. When she arrived, she stomped into the room more forcibly than usual and didn’t say a word to Kali or I. Figuring that perhaps she had finally gotten the message to leave me alone, I didn’t ask her what was wrong. Kali set us to work creating a Mind Map, where we were supposed to work together drawing pictures of what we had learned on the board and left the room. I got to work immediately, but Donna sat in her seat and stared at me, making me extremely uncomfortable and nervous. I kept my conversation to the task at hand, but she only grunted in response and refused to work as a team, so I continued my drawings on my own.

As the day progressed, the tension in the room mounted. Donna was unresponsive to Kali as she tried to instruct us, making Kali upset, and encouraging her to ask Donna repeatedly “What’s wrong.” Donna only replied that she had been missing out on sleep and frequently left the room without warning. Kali took to ignoring her, and so did I.

When I went to my car for lunch, I noticed that although I parked in the same spot as usual, two spots away from other cars to keep them from dinging my brand new doors, there was a champagne 4-door sedan parked right next to mine. I figured it was a student, and when I returned from lunch, parked two spots away from it and thought nothing of it.

The last half of the day was so strange, I hesitate to try to explain it. Donna left abruptly, and Kali decided to keep teaching, which I was grateful for. When Donna returned about a half hour later, she explained that she had been in a meeting and was now smiling and cracking jokes. Kali and I were both shocked by the sudden change in attitude, but said nothing. She continued to laugh and joke right up to the end of class, when she chattered happily out the door. She, Kali and I walked to the front doors, and Donna held the door open for me. Kali went another direction, and Donna (again!) grabbed me and put her arm around me, asking me what I was doing that evening. I hesitated to answer, so she asked “Isn’t your boyfriend out of town this week?” I cursed him for mentioning that to her the previous Friday at the festival and made a mental note to yell at him for it. I had no choice but to admit that he was gone.

“Wanna go for a walk on the beach?” She asked me as I reached my car. I kept waiting for her to go the other direction to where she usually parked, but as she leaned up against the car next to mine, I realized it was the same champagne 4-door sedan that had parked next to me when I had left for lunch. I knew I had moved away from it, and here she was, leaning on it, claiming it as her own. I began to panic.

“No thanks, I think I’m going to stay home tonight. I’ve got a cold.” I said, hoping she’d buy it since I truly did have a cold.

“You know, it’s tradition. Thursday all the counselors get together and study for the exam on Friday.” This was bullshit. I had spoken with other counselors, some of whom had gone through training alone. There was no group study tradition.

“Oh… yeah. Well I don’t know. Maybe if you wanted to grab coffee over lunch…” I trailed off, angry at myself for never having the balls to tell people no.

“No. I’ll make you dinner.”

“Donna, you don’t have to do that.” I was now sitting in my car with the window open, keys in the ignition. I couldn’t give her any more non-verbal signals that I wanted to get the hell out of there.

“I want to make somebody dinner.” It was half a whine, half a command.

“Uh. Ask me again on Thursday.” I said, and started the car. “I’ve gotta go to the post office.” I drove away, frantically reaching for my cell so I could call my boyfriend and tell him about my awful day with the lesbian.

I’ll spare you the details of the call, since that’s inconsequential, and dive right into today’s drama. Since I’m already at four pages, I’ll try to make it short, because I know how reading page upon page of complaints can be draining. This morning was much the same as yesterday, only with the added bonus that Donna tried to follow me out of the building at every break opportunity.

The first time, I grabbed my cell phone, dialed a friend and started walking a different way than I normally take, through the business park instead of to the parking lot. I even left through a side door so she wouldn’t see me. On the way back, however, she came out the side door and glared at me as I approached (I had no other route options), smoking a cigarette. I acted so absorbed in my conversation that I didn’t have time for her, and gave a very small wave as I walked by. She turned and stared at me as I passed, and followed me into the building until I turned down a wrong hallway, still talking on my phone.

The second time was for lunch. She exited before me, but since I hadn’t seen her leave, I wasn’t sure if she had stopped in the bathroom like she usually does, or if she had gone straight out the doors. I took a chance and be lined for the door, since I heard the water running in the bathroom as I passed. I made it to the front doors, looked out and saw Donna slowly moving toward her car. Which, again, was parked next to mine. She stopped and looked over her shoulder as she got to her car, and I’m sure she saw me looking out at her from the all-glass doors. I jumped back, grabbed my phone and called my boyfriend, so I wouldn’t look like a freak standing by the doors.

“What are you doing,” he asked me.

“Staring out the doors, waiting for Donna to leave so I don’t run into her.”

He erupted in laughter, “That bad, hua?”

“Yes! She won’t leave me alone!”

At the third break, she made a point of waiting for me to leave the room first, which I tried to postpone, but finally decided I couldn’t stay any longer since Kali was waiting for us to leave. I took my phone and listened to a voicemail as I walked quickly down the hall. Donna followed me. I made a quick phone call to my CPA who had called, and upon hearing the business-like tone in my voice, Donna turned and went a different way. I spent the rest of the break hiding in the vending machine room.

The worst part was when Kali decided to leave the room to pick up some papers she had forgotten. Before the door even shut, Donna was pestering me. She hissed my name until I looked at her. “What.” I said blankly.

“I owe you an apology.”

“For what.” I kept my tone even, my eyes cold.

“I think you’re a great asset to this university and I think the management team made a great find with you, and I don’t want you to have this looming over your head.”

“Okay, I don’t see why you’re apologizing.” I was getting irritated.

“I feel like you’re avoiding me.”

“Yeah, I am. Because I don’t know what your intentions are here, but I feel like you’ve been coming on way too strong, and I really want to keep this on a professional level. And maybe I shouldn’t avoid you, but I don’t deal with conflict well, so…” I trailed off, realizing that I had admitted a weakness instead of holding my ground. Thankfully Kali came back in and the conversation stopped.

But Donna didn’t quit there. Kali began asking her what was wrong, and Donna began making comments about wanting “a rewind button on life” so she could fix the things she had done wrong, and making Kali use her laptop (we didn’t have computers) to look up the meanings of words that had to do with being sorry and screwing up under the pretext that she was going to use those words for a presentation. I tuned her out and continued to work on my own project.

Finally, at the end of the day, I bolted out the side doors and went to where I had moved my car after lunch- in the back of the building, where the executives park. I had to hike up a hill around the building where there was no sidewalk since I didn’t have an authorization pass to go out the correct door, but I figured it was worth it, when I saw Donna pulling past in her car, and I knew she saw that I had taken extra steps to avoid her.

So, my dear readers, if you have made it to the end of my story, I have to ask you what you would do in my situation. Keep in mind that Donna has been with the company for seven years and is very good friends with the Director, who is the person I would go to if I were to report her behavior. I’m at a loss for options. My boyfriend says I should confront her, but I wonder if that would add fuel to the fire. Any suggestions? Thanks in advance. I will keep you all posted with the new developments.

Sex Takes Too Long!

“I want an orgasm every day.”

My boyfriend’s eyes widened, as if I had made a completely unreasonable request. We were discussing how much sex was enough. He said, “I don’t think I could have sex every day.”

In our culture, there seems to be relatively little middle ground for sex. It’s either missionary position in the dark once a month, or it’s 3 times a day. We’re considered prudes, Puritanical, and frigid if we don’t want it all the time. And if we do want it all the time, we’re slutty and sex-crazed. Or what if we’re just those normal in-the-middle people who don’t mind having sex a lot but know that life, jobs, children, etc. get in the way sometimes?

Does scheduling sex make it less romantic and more of a command performance? Or what if you have a routine, every monday wednesday and friday is sex night. Does that make it boring? When you’re in love, it’s easy to make time to make love. But what happens when you settle down and the mundanity of life starts kicking you, and you’ve got appointments and laundry and have to be up early? How do you make time without feeling as if you planned it?

It seems impossible. With the time conscious nature of our society, we’re always going to have one eye on the clock.

Here’s my scheduling techniques to make sex not another item on your to do list after grocery shopping and before vacuuming.

1. Don’t make time for “sex”, make time for your partner.

Set aside some time to just spend with your partner. Go out on a date. Make a special dinner. Share a bath. The point is not doing what you’re doing: bathing, dining, etc. The point is doing it with the other person. Keep that in mind. Don’t ever talk about your to-do lists. When people live together they tend to talk at them in terms of what needs doing around the house, and what they’re going to do, and what the other person needs to do. This is functional, informative conversation. When you talk about how your day was, or that trip you want to take, or about your dreams (most adults think they’re too old to have aspirations still, like they need to be LIVING them already)… that is what fosters intimacy. Intimacy increases your desire to have sex.

2. Make sex one of your hobbies.

If you have a lot going on, like me… balancing a partner, a job, school, and all your hobbies (like jewelry making) is a hard thing to do. If you spend hours every night playing games or watching TV, or making jewelry, remember that sex is a great hobby (makes you happy *and* burns calories).

3. Say yes to quickies.

I don’t like being late, or sometimes I just want to go to bed. But my boyfriend knows when to not take no for an answer. Responsibility is a good thing, but there’s a time and place to set it aside. And when your man has pinned you to the wall and is sliding your clothes off… that’s probably not the time to be bringing up all the clothes that need folding. Remember that you have important things that need doing, and those are priorities.. but sex is also important and a priority. It is not something that can be skipped over.

4. Set your own quota.

Don’t pay attention to how much sex you think the neighbors are having, or how much you had in your last relationship, or how much I’m having. Are you happy with how much -you- are getting? Are you satisfied? Each relationship is different. There are some where you can have it everyday and still want more, and you can be with someone and have it once a week and be satisfied. It all depends on you, your partner, your age, and how much you’ve got going on in your life. It’s no big deal. And remember, it’s nobody’s business but your own.

That being said, I would still love it if you ladies would share your thoughts on this. Whether you sometimes feel you’re not getting enough, or you want too much and how you cope with juggling sex and the rest of your lives.

Oh, and don’t forget:

5. Just relax.

The more you stress about sex, the less you’ll want to have it. Just let it go. Don’t worry over it. If you’re stressing, I suggest you and your partner put more foreplay into your relationship without expecting sex at the end. Touch one another as you pass them in the house. Hold hands while you’re on the couch. Make out like teenagers. Just have fun with it

<3 E

Do Like The Penguins Do!

Hello everyone. This is my first blog post here, and I hope to be contributing much more often from now on. I was inspired to begin writing after reading an article I found about the habits of bisexual animals in the wild, and I’d like to share with you some of my thoughts. If you’d prefer to skip my opinions and jump straight to the article, you can do so by visiting: http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=bisexual-species

I am an avid fan of Kinsey’s theory that the vast majority of people are not only “straight” or “gay”, but fall somewhere in the middle. Alfred Kinsey, if you’re not familiar with his work, was a biologist and professor of entomology and zoology, who founded the Institute for Research in Sex, Gender and Reproduction at Indiana University in 1947 (source: Wikipedia). The movie which bears his name introduced me to his great works in the field of human sexuality, and his somewhat unorthodox practices. He broke new ground at a time when the general public was afraid to speak about sex, much less homosexuality or bisexuality. We have him to thank for opening the doors of discussion on these topics and for developing the Kinsey Scale, which measures sexual orientation, with 0 being extremely heterosexual and 6 being extremely homosexual. Through his interviews with hundreds and thousands of randomly selected participants, he discovered that most people are somewhere in the middle.

Unfortunately, upon publishing this information about homosexuality, Kinsey was labeled a freak and many discredited his earlier works. Since the time of his discovery, many researchers have been trying to prove that homosexuality is a genetic disposition, which would help to eliminate the stigma of being “gay.” Much of the research focuses on animals, and how they behave in the wild without any social boundaries to prevent them from coupling with the partner of their choice.

It’s not new information that animals in the wild will couple with their same-sex counterparts; what’s interesting is the article puts some emphasis on how some animals will choose a same-sex partner for differing reasons—whether they be for relieving social tension, to protect their young, or just because it’s fun!

It is noted that animals in the wild cannot be grouped into either “gay” or “straight” classifications because they do not shun encounters of the same sex after coupling with a member of the opposite sex, or vice-versa. Sociologist Eric Anderson, of the University of Bath in England is quoted as saying that “Animals don’t do sexual identity. They just do sex.”

In early studies, the article explains, scientists treated homosexual animals as abnormal and “treated” them by castration or lobotomy. These practices were not uncommon in some of the darker corners of our own human history.

Evolution, too, has had its hand in shaping the genitals of female Bonobos, who rub their genitals together so often that scientists theorize that their clitorises have favored a position that provides the most pleasure. We all know how monkeys are considered to have 90% of their DNA matching that of a human’s. Makes me question if our clitorises are placed in front, away from the penis, for the same reason.

Another interesting fact to note, some scientists have observed that the more homosexual acts occur within a community of animals, the more peaceable they are as a whole. This is because many animals stimulate each other to appease the dominant male, for instance, or to keep an upset mother from taking revenge for upsetting a baby. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t feel like fighting with anyone after I’ve had a good orgasm.

The article goes on to explore other couplings between animals, including female Koalas in captivity, who will act like a male and copulate with as many as four partners at once. Scientists speculated that these couplings may have occurred as a result of stress from a lack of male partners. Again, we see these same behaviors with humans. Just take one good look at the Navy, or at sports teams. The article also explores these avenues later.

“We should be calling humans bisexual because this idea of exclusive homosexuality is not accurate of people,”[One scientist said.] “Homosexuality is mixed in with heterosexuality across cultures and history.”

Which causes me to question the social constrictions put upon humans in the first place. As a history minor, I am well aware that throughout literature and historical documents, there are the telltale signs (and sometimes the more obvious admissions) that same-sex relationships and couplings did occur. How is it, then, that we allowed ourselves to be restricted by social boundaries from something that appears to be natural for all animals? I won’t make assumptions on who or what put those boundaries there (because I have a few theories that will most likely offend the most religious members of this site), but I want all of us to ask ourselves what walls (actual or theoretical) will crumble if bisexuality was suddenly forced into popular culture.

Open your minds, think about it J

“All Knowledge Is Worth Having”

Long overdue, but useful

This is mostly for Lacivia, who mentioned she would like this if it seemed to work. It does!

I’m posting a couple different recipies, but I’ll be honest, I really prefer the first one. The second one smells better, and even feels better to an extent, but there is a noticeable difference in how well it works.

Sensitive Skin Sunscreen

2 Tablespoons Cold-Pressed Castor Oil

4 Tablespoons Zinc Oxide (grr…I don’t like zinc oxide)

1 Tablespoon Arrowroot Powder

In a small bowl, mix the cator oil and zinc oxide into a smooth paste. Sprinkle the Arrowroot over the oil paste and mix again. Transfer into a sterilized, small, shallow glass jar and seal tightly. This recipe is enough for 4 applications, but you can double or triple the ingredients if you have plans for leaving on vacation, etc.

This sunscreen reflects back both UVA and UVB rays, and should be applied to skin approximately 20 minutes before you venture into sun-land. The main reason I love this sunscreen so much is it’s water-resistant and lasts all day. It’s also, as the name suggests, great for all skin types. I’ve had huge problems with sunscreen before, and have always gotten rashes, irritation, etc. whenever I wore the store-bought type. Luckily, I seem to have finally found one that works!

Moving on…

Sun Worshipper Sunscreen

1/4 Cup Darjeeling Infusion (Black tea)

1/2 Cup Cold-pressed Sesame Oil

2 Tablespoons Cold-pressed Jojoba Bean Oil

1 Tablespoon Cold-pressed Avocado Oil

Make the Darjeeling infusion by placing 5 tea bags into 3 cups of very hot (make sure it’s not boiling though, that would kill off the potency, in part) water. Leave covered to steep for 30-60 minutes. Strain by squeezing out bags and pour liquid into a sterilized glass bottle. Measure 1/4 cups of the infusion and pour into a bowl (discard the remaining tea). Add the oils and whip vigorously. Pour the sunscreen into a sterilized squirt bottle and store at room temperature. Shake well before each use. Massage lavishly before and after swimming or other exposure to sun.

As I mentioned earlier, I found this sunscreen to feel more luxurious, but not be as functional. It did seem to block the sun, but I was WAAAY to lazy to apply it each time I took a dip in the water, or went inside for a while, etc., so by the end of the day, I was one crispy cookie.

I hope you all enjoy these recipies, as I did…and just keep in mind that half the fun is really in the process of creating them. I ruined a few batches at first because I kept wanting to add other ingredients, etc. Eventually, I just realized the ingredients listed really were pretty good.

FYI, I found both of these recipes in a WONDERFUL book called Beautiful Face, Beautiful Body. I’d say check it out, but it’s out of print and I really got lucky when I found it…but if you ever come across it, get it. It’s a wonderful resource for all sorts of beauty needs.

Love to each of you!