Oh, my head hurts.

The Halloween dance was fine, for as long as I stayed. I danced with Charles and a couple of other guys, and my costume was well-received... I decided to abandon any idea of a broom or wand, wands always look wrong to me, I'd had an idea of getting a hand-broom and replacing the handle with a glitterstick, but I didn't want to carry it around, or to have to wear a separate belt to hold it.

Anyway, I was there for about an hour, maybe about a half-hour more. I don't know what came over me, I just felt like it was pointless, flirting with Charles, dancing with the others. I think I started wondering if Brian and his new girlfriend were at a party of their own, and the dance felt really empty.

So I called Clarice, who was home. She isn't ready to look for babysitters yet, so she wouldn't be at a party. Anyway, she invited me over, so I went, costume and all.

Rob found a bottle of wine, and we drank... well, I drank. Clarice barely touched hers, and Rob didn't try to keep pace. We switched to Jim Beam after the wine was gone, and I don't remember them putting me to bed, but Clarice found the episode very amusing when I saw her this morning. I guess I was saying some really stupid stuff, about Brian, and about Charles's friend Laurel. I don't know where that came from... I wonder if I was trying to broach the fact that I'd realized I was attracted to Clarice herself. If so, I'm glad that I kept my conversation to a third party.

And Laurel is pretty cool.

I didn't go to work. I called in sick, which was true, though I didn't admit that it was self-inflicted. I came home just before noon and worked a little around the house, straightening up what was left over from last weekend's moving.


Yesterday afternoon I spent some time at work looking over my journal. I guess I started thinking about the difference between being disconnected and being free. I'm free to do whatever I want, and all I've been doing is feeling sorry for myself. And I came across what I'd written about one encounter. What I wrote doesn't do justice to the occasion. Recalling it excites me, and I've avoided dwelling on it because I felt uncomfortable thinking about it while dating Brian.

Of course, after seeing him a couple of weeks ago, Chris hasn't been not too far from my thoughts. More than anyone I can imagine, he's "safe", in the sense that as little as he cared about fidelity with Clarice, he wouldn't be expecting commitment. And since he knows I'm aware of his game, he wouldn't be trying to trap me with romance.

I'm trying to sound logical, but the truth is, as soon as the idea came to me, I knew I wanted a repeat of last year's recreational activity. So much that it scared me a little, and when I called him I half-hoped he'd be busy.

If he was - he hesitated before answering - he changed his plans quickly. There was a play that Laurel had emailed me about that I wanted to see, and he said he'd like to go with me. I hung up, called for tickets - the theatre wasn't sold out, although only mid-price tickets remained, which was fine with me - then called him back and told him I'd see him at seven at his house.

I left work early, showered, and squeezed into a red tube top I hadn't worn in a while, with the remainder of my witches' costume, black hose, black leather mini and the leather jacket I bought to go with the mini when I wasn't being a supernatural hag.

I was a couple of minutes late after fixing my hair and makeup, but judging by the look on Chris's face when he opened the door, it was worth the extra time. He gripped my waist, and I gave him a quick kiss on the lips, but pushed him away when he tried to hold me closer.

"You're not messing up my makeup before we go out," I said, and he grinned.

We arrived in plenty of time for the play, and the tickets were on will-call, I'd paid for them by credit card over the phone. Chris wasn't happy about that. He wanted to pay. I told him (without malice, but with sincerity) I'd invited him, I was paying for him, and if he had a problem with it he could buy himself a ticket in a different part of the theatre. He shrugged and followed me in.

The play was a dark comedy. Hilariously funny at times, but bleak, and certainly no happy ending. Moving. Sometimes comedy can help you suspend disbelief, so that you are more susceptible to other emotions. At least, in books, I've found that true. It was certainly true in this play, and it left me feeling raw.

"Let's get a drink," I said.

"We could do that at my place," he responded.

"Let's get a drink first," I insisted. "I want to wind down." And I didn't want him distracting me from my relaxation... yet.

After a little haggling we agreed on an Italian restaurant; neither of us had eaten, and a little pasta to go with the wine seemed like a good idea.

"Do you like that kind of thing?" he asked as we ate.

"What kind of... oh, the play? Yes, I thought it was very good. You?"

"It had its moments. I guess I'm not a theatre guy."

"Are you disappointed you came?" I asked.

"No, not at all." His eyes had been drifting down to my tight top, and he seemed to make a visible effort to keep them on my face while he answered.

I didn't tell him what was going on with Brian, and he didn't ask.

"I'm done," I said, having eaten less than half of the entree. Immediately he pushed his plate away and signalled the waiter for the check.

At his house, he asked, "Are you coming in?" as if I had been likely to refuse. And I did think about the question for, oh, all of about two seconds before nodding.

"Now you can mess up my makeup," I said after he'd closed the door, putting my arms around his waist.

He didn't immediately accept the invitation, though, instead holding me close to whisper "I don't recall you being so - eager - last year."

"No," I agreed, "this isn't like me. But if I'm still dressed in ten minutes, I'm going home."

He made a startled sound. Then, "How dressed are we talking here?"

"Don't you think you should just play it safe?" I suggested, as his palms stroked my ribs.

He nodded, but couldn't reply further, because his mouth was on mine, and his hands were pulling my tube top up, taking a few moments to explore before lifting it over my head. When I tried to finish removing it, he tickled me, making me tangle my arms up in the top, and while I was trying to recover I felt him unzip my skirt and peel off my hose. By the time I'd struggled free, I was standing in my panties, my hose and skirt around my ankles, and he was watching my breasts shake as I moved.

As we kissed again, he squeezed my ass, and I stepped out of my clothes. I pushed his face down to my breasts, and he sucked my nipples erect. Then he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. I'm not heavy, but he seemed to barely notice my weight.

When he set me down on the bed, I didn't let go, pulling his face to mine, and his hands explored for a moment before unfastening his own clothing. When he joined me on the bed, I murmured, "I think your ten minutes is almost up."

He slipped his hand inside my underwear and squeezed my pussy. "So what are you gonna do about it?" he asked.

"This," I said, and wriggled out of my panties. "And this," freeing him from his underwear.

My condoms were in the living room with my purse, so I asked for his. As it was, about two a.m. I had to get mine anyway.

Last week, Brian and Lee didn't put in an appearance until the afternoon.

Of course, last Saturday it was pouring with rain. Probably they were waiting to see if it would lighten up at all.

Whatever, T hadn't expected them to be at my house when I arrived, early in the morning, but they were.

I guess showing up in a leather miniskirt with my hair disheveled didn't leave them much room for speculation about my activities. Lee seemed embarrassed to be there. Brian was just cold. I can't blame him, and I can't imagine what he was feeling.


I'm back in my own bed in the master bedroom, snuggled up with my storm cat. Today it has been raining constantly, and every time Selky pokes his head out from under the covers and looks around with those big nervous eyes, another thunderstorm rolls in and drives him right back under.

Yolanda called last night. She said Charles was worried that he'd driven me away somehow at the Halloween party. So I explained what had been going on and why I'd left. And what I'd done instead...

"Hey, If you wanted to get blitzed," she said, "you should have stayed with us, we could have ferried you around."

Then she invited me to another party last night. But I felt like I was partied out for the week. Maybe for the rest of the year.

I promised to call her in a week or two.

I want to know - where did y'all ho? No-one's posting to the BBS anymore. Even my email has slowed to a trickle. Did I drive y'all away with my rants about cyberstalking? Or has what I've been doing offended you?

If so, I hope you will forgive me, and start talking to me again.

I did get an interesting email in the last week. A correspondent thanked me for the Palm Pilot versions of my stories. He reads them during his (non-driving :-) commute, other sites either independently or following my lead have added Palm versions of stories.

Well, my correspondent suggested a new twist: MP3 audio. Recorded stories for listening on your portable MP3 player.

I think it's a great idea. The problem is, I wouldn't be willing to do the recording myself. An audio recording isn't a photo, but my voice would certainly identify me to anyone who does know me.

So if it could happen, it would have to be by contributors. You, that is. So if you think this is worth following up, start a thread on the BBS and we'll see where it goes.

I think I'd personally have trouble reading sex scenes aloud. But it might be an interesting challenge...


Well, we were about to give up on Jim. He hadn't gotten back to us about the offer, but he called today and faxed his acceptance. He will be starting in just under three weeks, just after Thanksgiving. Meanwhile I had two more interviews today, Gina and Tom.

Gina impressed me, but impressed Mary less so. Her programming skills are less than she'd have me believe. We could find use her as a junior-level programmer, but that isn't what she's looking for, and we couldn't go as high in salary as she wants. So she's a "no".

Tom is obviously capable of doing the job. Mary thought he was over expectations for what we're looking for. But I sense problems. He's almost a textbook nerd, he even came to interview with his glasses taped together. That certainly isn't a big deal. He had a "portfolio" of diagrams of projects he's put together, which is an interesting idea.

The biggest problem I had was that he wouldn't let me finish a sentence. He would cut me off or finish it for me, and the few that I did get finished he seemed to ignore... with the result that he had no clue what I was trying to say, inferring from the small part he'd listened to. Maybe he can work well on a project, but if he isn't going to listen to direction, I can't see how.

So I had to think very hard about Tom, because we really need someone of his caliber. I talked to Terry, who was no help, telling my breasts that it was my call, my team to manage...

So I decided no, and we're still looking.


I know, I still haven't posted the story that I told you I was working on, but I've started another. It's an idea that has been floating around in my head for months, maybe over a year now. So there should be two stories in the not-too-distant future.

Interesting email from a correspondent about Chris. He felt that he'd been short-changed by my cutting the narration short. (That isn't what he said, he was much more polite :-) I guess I felt like I've been going into so much explicit detail recently that sometimes I wonder if it's getting old. Besides which, after coming home to find Brian and Lee, I guess I didn't feel too much like reminiscing on what I'd been doing. But if you're disappointed with the lack of detail, I apologize.


I hate staying home Friday night. When Brian was here, we'd usually be out doing something fun... and if we weren't out, we were at home doing something fun. Last night I did nothing but watch TV with a cat in my lap, and work a little on my new story.

The story reminded me of my bike (since it's about a bike ride :-), and how little I've been using it, so I decided that today I'd go for a ride.

Well, today was cold, and I *should* have stayed home. But I'd decided to do it, so I did... God, I can be stupid.

Well over five miles from home, much further than I've ridden in years, and too far to be able to make it back comfortably with the hills around here, it started raining. Of course, I turned around immediately, but I had to slog back home in constant rain and occasional downpours. Even over some flooded intersections.

I was soaked and freezing for the whole journey, and working my ass off to get up the hills - and with the rain, of course, there was no coasting down the other side. When I got home I was shaking, I couldn't get the bike into the garage through the side door, I had to open the overhead door to wheel it in.

I stripped immediately and got in the bath, but I'm still hurting, every muscle I'm aware of is sore, and plenty more. And my butt feels like I've been kicked repeatedly. Which I should have been.


Charles called to invite me to a dance next Saturday, and to a couple of hours of private practice Thursday for preparation. I told him I'd have to think about it, today I can barely stand. I don't feel like I'll be much better by Saturday.

He suggested asking Laurel to come give me a massage. She's had some training, and often works on him after dancing or acting. I told him I'd think about that, too, right now the thought of anyone touching me makes me cringe, but if I don't recover quickly maybe I should give her a try.

Last Sunday I spent the day in bed in the thunderstorms; today I did the same. Different reason, since I can't stand or sit comfortably, but the thunder was back, as was my storm cat. I'm writing this entry in bed, which is uncomfortable, but at least not painful. But I won't be doing any work on either story.