Freshman at Cayuga - Part 1

There was a special Greyhound bus from the town next to ours on Long Island going to Cayuga College and mom dropped me off in the parking lot of the mall. She gave me a hug and off I went with my green duffle bag in the belly of the bus.

Free at last and out of the nest. I enjoyed the scenic ride from Long Island to Upstate New York. First via the Long Island Expressway to the Cross Island Expressway, to the Throgs Neck Bridge,

up Route 95 to Route 287 and over the Tappan Zee Bridge,

through the Catskill Mountains, and into the Finger Lakes region of New York State to Cayuga College. The Finger Lakes region was home to dairy cows and apple orchards; beautiful rolling country it was. It was a ride I would become very familiar with over the years to come.

The bus stopped right on Campus and dropped me at my dorm. My bag was off loaded and I carried it to the door. There I was met by a student who I gave my name to and got my room assignment. I had planned to be in an all girls wing this semester. I could have gone coed, but wasn’t up to seeing boys in the bathroom first thing in the morning yet. I had also heard that it was a loud non-stop party in those parts of the dorm and I was a lame ass nerd who treasured her sleep. So, all girls it was. I was tripled. The door was open and I was the last one into the room. There was one bed on the right, and that was taken and a bunk bed on the left, and the bottom one was taken. I took the top bunk. The girl who had the bed on the right was very pretty, or at least she thought and acted like she was and her name was Janice, from Fayetteville near Syracuse. I remember she used to curl her lashes every morning and I had never seen anyone use a lash curler before. The girl who slept on the bunk beneath mine was tall, reedy thin and very blond and her name was Hannah. She was from Riverhead, Long Island. Janice was an education major and Hannah was an art major. Janice had also taken the entire closet on the right. Hannah and I had to share the one on the left. That was okay with me since I didn’t own too many things. It took me no time at all to unpack and the final touch, to hang my Lord of the Rings poster over my bed.

Suddenly, there was all kinds of noise in the hallway as a rowdy group of non-freshmen boys rushed by. Some of them barged into our room. They grabbed up Janice and carried her out. Hannah and I just looked at each other. We looked out the window and could see the courtyard was all muddy and the upperclassmen were throwing the freshman girls into the mud. Everyone was laughing and having a grand old time. Some time later, Janice returned to the room all muddy complaining that she would never get the mud out of her white cotton blouse. But I could see the glint in her eyes. She had met somebody. One of the boys had caught her eye. She kept complaining about how rough they were with her. But, she protested a bit too much, if you know what I mean.

We all decided to go to the cafeteria for dinner together. But, we never really did get along well as friends during the time we lived together in the dorm.

I worked out my schedule. I exempted freshman biology (botany and zoology) by getting a 4 in AP bio so took cell biology at 8 am (yawn). I showed up to the first class, the professor opened the text and started reading. I never attended class again but got a B+ in the course. I had to take freshman English because I only got a 3 in AP English. I chose to take an essay exam to attempt to get an exemption from that. The question was to write an essay about someone you admire. I wrote about my mother and how I admire her because she does what she says she will. Needless to say, I exempted with ease and the professor put his arm on my shoulder and called me a gem. So I took English in from the Canterbury tales to Shakespearian times, which I just love. I also had to take Calculus A and freshman Chemistry. I also took French. Three credits of physical education were required at Cayuga, so I took intermediate ice skating for half the semester, since I have ice skated since I could walk, and jazz dance for the other half. Laboratories were required with cell bio and chemistry and those were 3 hours each on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. My schedule was loaded with academic stuff.

Also, I had been accepted as part of a work-study program, since I didn’t have any money to pay for room and board and had taken out New York State Higher Education personal loans to pay for these. So to earn money the school had found me a job working for the Cayuga’s chemistry department. I reported to a Mr. Dayly, who was very nice and had strawberry blond hair which he wore slicked back. He looked very Irish. He explained that I could unpack chemistry supplies, set up experiments for lab classes, and stack the shelves with glassware and chemicals and that sort of thing. Later on, he showed me how to make up unknowns, which made me very popular in class. (To test the students’ ability to identify chemicals, unknowns would be presented to them and they would be asked to determine what they were. I knew the answers since I had made them.) All this work really prepared me for the lab work place, though at the time, I didn’t realize it. I was pretty much busy from 8 am to 5 pm.

Most important though, was that the school had a well known synchronized swim team that I wanted to try out for. That would be my dream come true to swim with them competitively. The indoor pool at Cayuga was six lanes wide and 50 meters long and had underwater viewing and music capabilities. It was perfect for synchronized swimming. In our old high school pool we had to count to stay with our music. The day of the tryouts they had the underwater music on! I was so excited! They let us warm up and there were about 30 girls there for the tryout. What a mob scene. The coaches wanted us to scull to the center, perform a ballet leg, go to a bent leg and perform a bent leg dolphin coming back to the surface. They then wanted us to move to a forward position and perform a catalarc, which is a move I was familiar with but rarely practiced. A catalarc is when you swim forward, prone and dip the top half of your body perpendicular to the surface of the water bending at the waist, the lift a leg out of the water and raise the other one while twisting 90˚ and bringing both legs together only as you enter the water. Then your entire body drops straight into the water and the finish is coming up normally with a big smile. Show off that I was, I performed the scull out perfectly, did the ballet leg as high as possible, did a perfect bent leg dolphin, and then from that position, I sculled in place and let my feet drop and the power sculled them up behind me, while keeping my body straight, which is very difficult to do. Try it sometime and you will see. Then I had my prone position from which took a stroke or two and then I luckily nailed the catalarc.

These women are performing ballet legs.

This woman is begining a dolphin. She will continue to pull her body in a circle under water, keeping her legs straight, arching her back and using only her arms.

It was up to the coaches now. I had done the best I could and I felt great about my tryout. Sometime later the results were in and I ran down to the pool to see if I had made the team. I MADE THE TEAM. I was one of two girls out of the entire 30 that made the team. What an honor! I ran down to talk to the coaches. They told me that work outs were daily from 3-5 pm. I was stunned. I had assumed that workouts would be in the evening. They said that no, those times were taken by the competitive swim teams and open swims for student and the public. I told them that I had science labs and had to work for the chemistry department during the workout times. They just shook their heads. I felt it all slipping away. My dreams. I just let it go. Guess I had to focus on work. What a bummer.

Casino Royale - Praise for Daniel Craig

I must be the last person on the planet to see this movie and this is not so much a movie review, as a lap dance for Mr. Craig. I must say, I fell for him hard as, “Bond. James Bond” in this film. He “disarmed” me, so to speak. Those icy blue eyes with that well muscled physique, the forceful sexuality and hot passion had me coming and going during the entire film. I would have extended him the five million dollar credit for the poker game just for him to spend one night with me; I wouldn’t even care if he won. I would have assuaged his bruised ego if need be.

I would have shared the blackmail plot with him and lived, where the stupid Vesper bimbo did not. Here is how that would have gone:

“James, darling.”

“Yes my sweet Sue”

I have to tell you something.”

What dear?”

“Back when you were being tortured, I made a deal to get you out. I was blackmailed to save your life and that of my French-Algerian boyfriend if I promised to hand over the money to them. I’m really sorry, but I am sure that you can understand why I did it.”

“Oh, of course! Don’t worry for a moment honey. We can triple cross them without much trouble. I will set the whole thing up and don’t you worry your pretty little head about it one more minute. Okay? I really am feeling much better. Shall I make mad passionate love to you now?”

“Your wish is my command, my love… Shall I run away to make it sporting for you? And then struggle and resist with all my strength?”

“Oh God, you know how to make me hot! You are on! I’ll give you a five second head start.”

Sigh. Have to breathe here. Feeling dizzy. Better now.

Right away, I bought him as a thug, when he strangled his first bad guy with his bare hands. The cool killer spy quickly followed as he dispatched both with a quick silenced shot; the last from his trademark 007 Walther PPK. Then he sold me on his action hero potential as he chased another bad guy through Madagascar á la Jackie Chan. I am sure everybody got bruises shooting those scenes.

He fills out a bathing suit quite nicely. Don’t you think? I’d rather he take it off. I am sure they have nude bathing there in Montenegro. If you would like to see a photo of him nude, Pete in Finland has one here.

But, could this brute, Mr. Craig, handle being suave, debonair, a seducer of women at a formal event? Ah, yes he could. Most handily thank you.

But last, and not least, we have to see our hero tortured. So here he is in the infamous torture scene.

They saved this scene until the last day of shooting. How they did it is the bottom of the chair was covered with fiberglass. A cane rug beater was used to strike it, as could be seen in the movie. Mr. Craig could feel that the bottom was being hit, but was completely safe. On one hit the fiberglass cracked and Mr. Craig stood up suddenly and said, “Whoa, gotta go!”

I must say, I enjoyed the scene because Mr. Craig was nude and sweaty and looked hot in it. I did not for one moment believe that he was being tortured and the scene did not make me wince. I thought the scene was hot. What did you think?

By the way, I have rented more of his films on Netflix. Daniel Craig is my new favorite actor, so don’t even think of coming between us. Got that?

Boat Shmoat, We're Going to Paris - Part 10

The next morning, Sean was scheduled to meet with the company’s career counselor at La Defense. So we both took the metro there together and Sean was anxious to see the building, as he is an architect and also the company’s offices. We breakfasted at the CNIT place and had café with chocolate croissants before his meeting at 10:00 am.

Sean was duly impressed with the building and we both had our daily passes manufactured while we waiting to get into the company offices. While he was meeting with the career counselor, I had the opportunity to ask Monsieur P if the car was left out of the contract by oversight. He replied that at my level there is no car in France. I said that Ms. S (of the manicured nails) told me there would be a car, and he answered that Ms. S must not know anything about company cars in France. (To be said in Steve Martin voice: Well excuse me!) France differs from all of Europe in respect to company cars. He indicated that I would have to be an entire level higher to get a car. Bottom line: no car. I thanked him for clarifying that and left.

Sean was finished with his meeting and while impressed that the company had made an effort to help with placing the spouse in a career, not that impressed with the effort itself. Sean had already covered the bases the company had suggested such as, going to professional journals, networking with professional friends, checking local papers, etc. Our next appointment was at 2 pm with a lawyer that the company used to arrange my work visa. So, we took the metro to a location near his office in central Paris to have lunch.

We were both kind of flummoxed that France does not give cars to people at my level, because first it was promised and second, that would be a deal breaker for us. It represented $10 grand at least, which was not being covered any place else. Part of our plan of being in Paris was to drive around and see Europe on the weekends and one needs a car for that. So we were deep into discussion of this, when our change from the lunch tab was brought. I counted it and we were short by 20 francs. Fuck. I had to go yell at the garçon and in French no less. He probably saw upset Americans who were unfamiliar with the currency and thought we wouldn’t notice we were being ripped off.

So I rushed up to him and yelled something like, “Give me the money fast!!!” It was the best I could muster quickly. He did, looking sheep faced and without apology. We rushed out of there without leaving any tip.

We made it to the lawyer’s office in plenty of time. Monsieur R met with both of us and was most kindly as he explained that a work visa for me would be very straight forward as I would be sponsored by the company and could work in France for 2 years. I would be required to go back to the U.S. for one month per year. We went over the paper requirements for me. When it came out that my father was born in Austria there was a bit of excitement. Monsieur R phoned the Austrian Embassy to see if I could claim my Austrian citizenship, but in a rather pissy tone the man at the embassy told me that my father surrendered his Austrian citizenship to join the American Army to fight in WWII and thus I was not eligible to become an Austrian citizen. Well, be that way. Hold a grudge. See if I care. It was exciting for a minute there though.

Monsieur R also mentioned that unemployment was high in France, at about 12%, and it would be tough for Sean to find a job and many French would see competition from Sean in a negative light. He also noted that Sean would have a difficult time not being fluent in the native tongue. Sean would have to stay on a travel visa until he could find employment and get a work visa. We thanked Monsieur R profusely and left.

We decided to shop on the Champs Élysées our way back to the hotel. Everything was so expensive. We wandered into a dress shop for children that was having a half price sale on summer dresses. There we bought two three beautiful handmade dresses for my niece that looked something like the ones pictured below. The dresses had lots of floral patterns with lace and hand work. They were to die for pretty. (She loved them and so did her mom.) How many little girls get their dresses from Paris? I ask you.

We got back to the hotel and decided to eat someplace at bit more exotic and less expensive that night. So we went out for Indian food. We found a small place near the hotel and ordered typical foods as we would at home. It was all wonderful, especially the cheese naan.

We asked the server what the cheese was in the naan, and he said, “Oh, it is just a local cheese that we buy at the street market.” We knew that this was true. Street markets could be found all over Paris. People would shop during the day, and then use the food bought there for dinner that night. Freshness was the daily mantra for the French cooks. You couldn’t go wrong with French cheese, meat, fish, vegetables, and fruit or wine carefully bought at these markets it seemed. Oh and they sold flowers for the table too.

Hello Graham! It Is Another New Link!

It is G Cracker's turn to be Queen for a day. The sneaky little drama/theater student linked to my blog when I wasn't looking. Not fair, I thought, so I linked to his blog, Ramblings and Grahamblings. See if he can handle the my legions of traffic. (Hardy har, har.) Let's see, what can I tell you about Graham? He is 19, his home is in PA, his school in Providence, and he is a club boy for cash. He is totally fab, awesome and loves to party. He is kind of like the toy surprise right out of the cereal box, still in the wrapping and no scratches on the plastic. Well, maybe a bit out of the wrapping. It promises lots of fun yet to be had.


So head on over to Graham's blog, take your shoes off and set a spell, y'hear?

Rock Out the Vote (For the Bloggies)

I think that voting is very important for everyone on Earth. Well, at least I used to. Then I visited the Seventh Annual Weblog Awards to see who the nominees were and was pretty disappointed. Some folks were snubbed and responded accordingly. Overall, it seemed to me that the nominees were chosen by teenage girls. Not that there is anything wrong with teenage girls, but do we really want them to run everything?

Thankfully, teenage girls have no interest in the following catagories in which I would appreciate your votes if you feel so inclined:

Best Australian or New Zealand Blog: Aussielicious

(Congratulations Brenton!!!)

Best Weblog About Politics: Daily Kos

(Congratulations Richard!!!)

Best GLBT Weblog: Scott-O-Rama

(Congratulations Scott!!!)

We all thank you for your votes!

Friday Fantasy - Help with Yard Work

Look who I just hired from Shaney's Hunk Hut! This is Travis. The Hunk Hut is closing really soon, but Shaney said that he would leave it open just for my Friday Fantasy. Isn't he a swell guy? So, I hired this guy, Travis, and come to find out he only works in the (rhymes with mood). He runs around the yard gathering dead wood, while sporting some of his own. If you want to see his wood, you'll have to go to where I hired him. (Adults only please.) He really is going to have to put some clothes on. Today's temperature was 8 degrees F (-13 degrees C).

"Don't you get cold Travis?"

"Not when I have you to keep me warm Sue."

Don't you just love Travis?

The Gospel of Luke - Part 3

The final time I was with Luke in my room was in late summer. He was on my bed with his pants off and his erection was pointing at the ceiling. It was daytime. His erection was long enough that it reached his bellybutton. I remember thinking that sticking up like that, surrounded by his soft brown pubic hair, it looked like a throne waiting for the princess to sit upon. But sex with him was out of the question, because I didn’t love him. I wanted my first sexual encounter to be with someone I loved. Nonetheless, I wanted to do something memorable to him. I had heard that when he was with Tammy she had blown him and gagged on his penis because it was so big. I felt under pressure to compete and was leaving for college soon.

I didn’t know a thing about how to give a blow job. I did now that the penis had to go into your mouth, but that was it. So, as Luke lay back on the bed, I kissed his nipples and then worked my way down his stomach to his navel. There was a bit of moaning and toe curling. Good. Then, I put my mouth on the side of his penis. He sat up right away looking alarmed and I stopped. “What are you doing? Do you know how many germs are in your mouth?” He excused himself so that he could go home a shower right away.

I guess I was wrong about Tammy.

Sometime after that, Luke invited me to come with him to his new church. He explained that he had never in all his days experienced anything like it and would really like to know what I thought about it. What was unusual about it was that people were speaking in tongues and it seemed really real to him. My thoughts, which I did not share, were something along the lines of what the fuck bullshit is this? But I went with him anyhow. Leastways it would be entertaining.

Boy was it. The church was small, but ordinary looking. It was an all white congregation and the service began normally. Then we all joined hands, ugh, I hate that, and it got freaky. People here and there were speaking in tongues. It is really weird if you have never seen it. It sounded like lots of gobbledy gook to me. But then, I got the biggest surprise as Luke began speaking in tongues. I did a quick double take. Yup. Luke was speaking in tongues. I was tempted to do a quick, gee, look at the time and skip out of there but I had no transportation home. So I waited patiently until the service was over. The Luke looked at me and asked what I thought. I did my best to hide my feeling that he had taken leave of his senses and I hope that I succeeded in sparing his feelings. Luke was a really gentle soul and I owed him a lot for teaching me the art of love and being my companion. Who knew, I might even catch up with him over the summer.

Boat Shmoat, We're Going to Paris - Part 9

Wednesday was a day off, so we decided to visit the Palace of Versailles. I had been there when I was a kid and remembered the palace as a place of wonder, gilt in gold. Vast rooms were decorated opulently with embroidered silk upholstery, carved velvets on the walls, and heavy tassels hung from satin curtains. Furniture and moldings were covered in real gold as were fixtures. Vases were filled with solid gold roses. Crystal chandeliers dotted the ceilings. Tables were laid with elaborately decorated china, solid gold cutlery and crystal stemware on table cloths of silk. The symbol of the sun for Louis IV, the sun king, was emblazoned everywhere. Everything was made of colored marble, inlaid with the greatest care. There were rooms upon rooms filled with these treasures that I wanted to share with Sean.

After our café and croissant breakfast, we took the metro to Versailles and made our way to the Palace. The gates that I remembered as being so tall and topped with shiny gold when I was a girl were not that tall now and the luster was off the gold. The fee was about $20 each to get in but we paid anyway as the money went towards restoration of the palace.

The most disappointing thing was that the decorated rooms were far fewer (only three or so) and not open to visitors until the summer. What a bummer to have come all this way and not be able to share my memories with Sean. Plus, the famed chapel was also closed. We wandered up and down the weathered looking marble halls of this once great looking palace that now looked beaten down and much like it needed a good sweeping and dusting; maybe even a wipe with a damp cloth. Even the hall of mirrors looked a bit dull. Maybe it was because of the bright and shiny childhood memories I was comparing it to. Sean seemed to think that Versailles looked a bit beat too, though.

Things we did see:

Things we did not see but I remember:

We looked out a window at the gardens, which when I was there as a kid were in full August bloom, but now it was grey and cold. The park is beautiful, but it was too breezy and raw to explore today. So, with regret, we left the palace and headed for town to scout for lunch.

We were really hungry and in no time we found a McDonalds. A McDonalds in Versailles you might ask. Yes, readers, a McDonalds in Versailles. What is even stranger is that we ate there. We just really needed comfort food. We scarfed down a couple of burgers each and got back on the metro to go back to Paris.

We arrived back at our hotel some time later. Tonight we were invited out to dinner by the vice president of intercontinental clinical research, Dr. P. Dr. P was in Paris to visit his wife’s family who lives there and typically his office is in the US. I had known Dr. P for several years as we had worked together on a project earlier and had some good times. We were working together now on integrating later phase studies with early phase studies as part of the initiatives. We were supposed to meet him at Chez Françis. For this special occasion, I was going to wear my Fendi cocktail dress. I bought the dress while shopping with a good friend at a very chic mall that had a Fendi store. We entered and while I was looking at sweaters, she pulled the dress off of the rack and yelled, “Sue! Look at this dress! This will look fabulous on you! Try it on!”

This is not the actual dress, but you get the idea.

I looked at the price tag. It had been marked down from $3,000 to $800. I thought, well, it will never fit anyhow. But I took it into the try on room and damn if it didn’t fit as if it were made for me. God it just looked really great. I had to buy it. You understand that, don’t you? So, home I went with my purchase. It was one of those, honey, guess how much money I saved, purchases. But, Sean has always taken the view that it is my money and I can spend it on what ever I want. He loves the dress anyhow. Well, tonight was the perfect occasion to wear it. Dinner in Paris with a vice president. If not now, then when? I felt like a little princess in that dress.

We took the metro to Chez Françis and waited for Dr. P while we enjoyed the view of the Eiffel Tower across the Seine (which is what the restaurant is known for). Right on time at 8:30 he and his wife, Madame J showed up. We entered the restaurant, took our coats off and right away Dr. P complemented me on my dress. I was tempted to say, oh this rag, something I just threw on. But I didn’t. I told them the story. They were quite amused. Dr. P gave us a book, At Home in Paris, and we thanked him profusely.

We ordered dinner. His French was impeccable, but with some French Canadian accent, as he is from Canada. After our ordering was done, he leaned forward and said to me, in his best god father voice, “So, did they make you an offer that you can’t refuse?” The he smiled.

We all laughed because he knew exactly what had happened to me. I guess they pull that with all the candidates. Bring them in unsuspecting and then show them the contract and pressure them to sign right away.

“Yes. But I told them that I will have to go home and look it over before I sign.”

His smile grew even larger and he said, “Good for you! Look it over carefully. Make sure they aren’t pulling any crap on you.” Then the conversation drifted to more social matters and we all got along swimmingly as if we had been friends for years. We ended up walking with them towards their home and our hotel.

Sunday Comics - Oliver Frey's Tender Bait Part 1

Remember, to read the text, click on the cartoons to enlarge.

Pete of Finland is running another Oliver Frey series called "Tender Bait". Enjoy the first half here, here, here, here and here. Hopefully I will have the second half by next Sunday. Enjoy!

Friday Fantasy - Mr. Brazil 2007

VOTING IS OVER! THE WINNER IS GLEIBER!!!!

A record breaking five people voted. In a stunning victory over his competitors, the vastly overlooked Gleiber was able to dominate the competion and pull ahead for the win. It wasn't even close. I have to admit, that this blogger had chosen him as a favorite too. So, thanks to those who took the time to vote: Mr. Tickle, Peter from Amsterdam, A Boy, G Cracker and Goldeneye.

I never tire of Brazilians. Is it just me? They are the hottest men in the world. My fantasy this week is that I get to choose Mr. Brazil 2007, who will represent Brazil in the Mr. World competitions in March. Scratch that. He will come here to my own little private party orgy at Fair View. If you vote, you too may be invited to cum. (Just a leettle teesny pun there!) Of course the official Mr. Brazil has already been chosen and he is Lucas. The first runner up is Alan and the second runner up is Thiago. But, looking at the field, I don’t think I agree that Lucas is who I would choose at all, at least for my orgy. How about you? I have carefully selected 8 of the sexiest men of the 27 candidates (via Made in Brazil) for your perusal. Here they are:

Lucas

Alan

Thiago

Marcos

GLEIBER - WINNER

Francineudo

Rafael

Edson

Please select your top three men (the winner, the runner up and the second runner up) and maybe mention what you would like them to do to you, or you would like to do to them. Winners will be announced Saturday night.

The Gospel of Luke - Part 2

I was also a real jock at school. Well, as much as one can be at 5 feet 3 inches and 95 pounds. I was captain of the synchronized swimming team (please don’t laugh), on the gymnastics team, ran track, and played intramural volleyball. I was invited by the coaches to play soccer and field hockey, but my mom wouldn’t give me permission because I had braces on my teeth and she didn’t want to ruin her investment.

I took advanced placement biology and English and got good grades in everything but French. I won a Regents Scholarship that would pay for my tuition if I attended college in New York State. That was important because there would be 4 of us in college at the same time, me, my sister, my brother and my mom, who was going for her doctorate in English Literature at Stony Brook. Her only income was as a high school English teacher. I wanted to major in art, and showed great talent and promise throughout my education and especially in senior year, but mom said that she would not pay for me to study anything but science. My brother, Verne had already been at a state school at Cornell studying plant biology for two years and my twin sister Evie was accepted at Notre Dame to study chemical engineering.

I applied to three schools and Cayuga was the only one that I was accepted at. I applied to Nassau Community College, but they were overwhelmed with applications and had a lottery and guess who didn’t win. I also applied to Binghamton, but was not accepted there either. So, Cayuga it was where I was planning to major in biology.

Luke and I continued to fool around with our pants on (dry humping – pathetic I know) until late one summer night we were out laying down on the lawn in my pitch dark backyard. We could hear the cicadas in the sycamore trees above us whirring loudly. We had progressed to the point where he was putting his hand into my pants for the first time, which I really liked because he had these big long fingers that were really strong and dexterous from playing all that organ music. Let’s just say that he was really good at manual masturbation. I was also putting my hand into his pants. Actually he just pulled his erection out of his pants for the first time and it was huge. He showed me how to stroke it and I did my level best. As I did it, his breathing got faster, his head rolled back and his mouth slacked open. His legs began to flex uncontrollably. I became a little frightened. What was happening to him? This couldn’t be good. So I stopped and rolled over away from him. He said, “Why did you stop?” I only whimpered in response. “Did you get bored?” He said angrily in a mocking tone as if it had happened before.

“No, I was scared of what was happening.” I replied meekly.

“Oh, no Susie. There is nothing to be scared of. I was enjoying it. Everything is going to be okay.” He said sympathetically. He cuddled me closely and I felt comforted and I understood that that is how men react when they are turned on and it is a good thing. So I turned back to him and continued stroking. He had lost some of his erection, but it came back quickly. Not that much later, I watched in awe as he came for the first time with me and his semen spurted onto his mostly hairless stomach and chest. Then he lay back quietly, sated. He had his thoughts and I had mine.

I was jealous that he had such an obvious marker of his orgasm while I did not. I wasn’t even sure if I had had an orgasm yet. What he did felt good, sure. But an orgasm, who could tell? I certainly couldn’t. This is what I thought as I lay beside him in the green summer grass; he being sated and I who knew not.

At some point during the week, my mom told me that Luke had another girl friend at her high school. She was a pretty Jewish girl named Valerie and Luke walked around the school with his arm around her. I even knew the girl. My response was, “So what?” I was pretty sure that Valerie wouldn’t let Luke get too far with her sexually since she was Jewish anyhow. Besides, I would rather have been dating Luke than no one at all.

My Pride and Joy - Ralph Glory Blooms

Long ago, my brother gifted me with a Ralph Glory orchid. That is genus Phaphiopedilum, or the slipper of Aphrodite, for you purists. It was blooming when he gave it to me, of course, and I figured that I would never see this lovely plant from the Himalayas bloom again.

I put it into the bathroom, figuring that it needed lots of humidity and that nearly killed it. Next, I moved it into a fish tank to help it recover, but it just looked even more unhappy in there. Years went by. I gave up on it. I moved it to the stainless steel wire shelving unit in the kitchen where there is lots of foot traffic, but the sun is bright. I stopped looking at it.

Then, my brother visited and glanced at the plant. He said, "Wow, this is a happy orchid! Is this the Ralph Glory I gave you?"

Sure enough it was. He noted a new flower spike coming from within a new growth of leaves. That was last year. It is blooming again this year and Sean took a photo. I guess the Ralph Glory has found a new home. Now my brother wants to gift me with more orchids.

Isn't it pretty?

Boat Shmoat, We're Going to Paris - Part 8

The next morning I awoke and my back was aching from sleeping on the floor. I was still a bit jet lagged too. But I was thrilled to be in Paris and really nervous about my busy day of interviews. I had five interviews scheduled and lunch with Dr. A. I took a nice hot shower and dressed in my brand new size 2 stylish Isabel Ardee designer pants suit with a white silk blouse and Italian designer made shoes. I accessorized with mabe pearl earrings and my pearl necklace and the hand bag I had bought in Rome. I felt like a million bucks. Well, at least I looked like a million bucks. Sean wished me luck and I kissed him goodbye as I left.

I went down the elevator and checked out the hotel’s breakfast offerings. They were way too expensive. They wanted more then $20 for coffee and a croissant. So I headed for the metro. The Porte Maillot station is just across the street from our hotel and I entered and bought a ticket from the automated machine for the straight shot ride to La Defense. I people watched the whole way there. Parisian women have a certain style all their own. They always look put together as if they own mirrors and use them. Their make up is well done; accessories, such as scarves, are colorful and well thought out. The women I saw were all on the cusp of style.

The La Defense stop was busy with commuters. There were lots of exit options but it was not difficult to figure out where to go. Once upstairs and outside again, I could right away see the Grande Arche and what a stunner it was! The design was part of a contest begun by French President François Mitterand. Johann Otto von Spreckelsen won with his design of a four dimensional cube or tesseract, but he died in 1987 before the completion of the Grande Arche in 1989/90. The dimensions of the cube are 108 x 110 x 112 meters and the sides are made out of Carrara marble and glass. The Arche was inaugurated in July 1989 to celebrate the bicentenary of the French Revolution.

My company’s offices were housed in the Grande Arche. But first, my stomach was growling and I had to get something to eat. I saw the CNIT center across the plaza and went to check it out. Inside there was indeed a small area on the left that served food. So I sat down. In no time a server was with me asking what I wanted. I ordered some café and a croissant and wolfed it down when it arrived. As usual the coffee was served with a bit of dark chocolate and the crystallized sugar on a stick (yum) and the croissant was rich and buttery, though I did add some more butter. My size 2 pants were beginning to feel a bit tight. No, no, that was all in my head. I looked at my watch and it was time to go to my first interview.

I paid and left. I crossed the plaza in no time and climbed the steps of the Arche, which are higher than they look once you are on them. Also, the plaza beyond the steps is broader than one might imagine. I entered the glassed in lobby and went up to the reception desk. I said, “Bonjour!” with a big smile and then switched to English because I wanted to make sure I was understood. The receptionist smiled and said, “Hello!” back. I told her that I was there to meet with Dr. A at 9:30 AM and she called upstairs to let them know I was there. Then she proceeded to take my name, company name, etc. to create a security badge for me. She typed it all into a computer, snapped a photo and out came a photo identification badge just for me. This was pretty impressive given that it was 1997. A woman came down who spoke very little English, but apparently was Dr. A’s secretary to escort me upstairs. We ran into some other employees on the way to Dr. A’s office and they all smiled and said hello as if they knew who I was and asked me if it was my first day at work. This had me totally confused. Didn’t they know I was there for an interview?

I was shown into Dr. A’s office. She soon arrived and asked her secretary, in French, to bring us coffee. Yum, more coffee. I let Dr. A take the lead during the interview. She went through the types of problems I would be dealing with on this job. I would be interacting with the clinical research heads of each of the 17 European countries who report to her and are all strong minded individuals and essentially telling them how to do their jobs. She then detailed the problems, country by country by personality of the country head and with ethnic stereotyping. I thought, well that is just lovely (not). She told me that I would be flying around most of the time making my case for the clinical initiatives. The job sounded just about impossible, but I would be living in Paris and traveling around Europe with Sean on weekends. It could be a dream come true. I couldn’t think of anyone who could take a better stab at this mission impossible than me. Her inbox was stacked two feet high with unread mail. She said that she would just give it to me to go through on my first day. I felt that the interview was going very well. Our time was up and I stood and shook her hand. We both smiled.

My next interview was with Monsieur P, President of Human Resources, France. He was average height, dark hair, middle aged, and his suit looked stylish and tailor made. It probably cost major bucks. I didn’t like the way he shook my hand. You know how some men shake a woman’s hand and won’t grasp it all the way like they would a man’s. They just hold gingerly onto the front as if it might break. I hate that. But I gave him a big smile anyhow. I went into his office and he motioned me to a chair and I sat down. He began to talk, and I began to sell myself. He kind of just looked at me and said something like, “Well when you start you will be doing this…”

I was flabbergasted as I thought holy shit does he mean that I have the job? Suddenly I couldn’t focus on what he was saying so I interrupted and said, “Wait. Stop. Are you saying that I have got this job?”

He replied, “Yes. I thought you knew. We should have your contract ready for you to sign before this Friday and it can be all set this week.”

I was completely stunned and in shock to say the least. Part of me was excited and celebrating, jumping up and down cheering, saying hooray for me!!! I got the dream job in PARIS. I get to live in PARIS. The other part of me was saying, gee, why didn’t Dr. A tell me? And holy shit, how am I going to do this shitty ass job? And that explains why the whole office assumed it was my first day. And I wonder what is in the contract? And how can I possibly break it to them that I cannot sign the contract this week? All of this was boiling up in my head as I was sitting there trying to listen to Monsieur P.

Ultimately, I decided that it was most important to tell Monsieur P that I could not possibly sign the contract by Friday as I would have to take it back home to examine the financial aspects more closely. I did manage to work that into the conversation at some point, but he assured me that the final package would be so attractive that I would have a difficult time saying no. I told him that I couldn’t wait to see it and he told me it should be available by the end of today.

I was quite excited when it came time to leave his office, but kept my cool and gave my warmest half handshake, which was all he would allow. I had to wait a bit for Dr. A for lunch. Before then, I went to the office ladies room. In Europe, most of the restrooms are coed; there is one for both sexes. I sure wish it was this way in the U.S. because it would solve the problem of long lines at stadiums, theaters and movies for ladies rooms. Those always get my goat. It is that way at restaurants also.

Dr. A showed up, and we began walking back to the CNIT place where there is an Italian restaurant for lunch. On the way I chided her for not telling me that I had the job. She looked at me and said, “Oh, I thought I had. Did I not? Sorry about that.” She said it as if it was nothing to her. Sigh.

We had a delightful lunch. You know, just us gals chatting about this and that. The weight of selling my self was really off and I could relax and be my usual charming self. She mentioned that I should reward my self for getting the job and treat my husband by taking ourselves to the five star fish restaurant next to our hotel that is one of the best in Paris. I shamefacedly admitted that we went there last night. She grinned as she asked how we liked it. I reported that we just loved their three fish dish. Two hours later, we returned to the office.

My next two appointments were with people who worked with Dr. A. But the pressure was off and these just flew by. I just couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and tell Sean that I got the job. One more thing, I had to see if the contract was ready. So, I stopped by Monsieur P’s office and his assistant handed it to me, hot off the press. I grabbed it and ran to the metro.

Once on the metro, I started to read the contract. It was surprisingly short. The first thing I noticed was that there was no car. There also was no allowance for the loss of Sean’s income, or subsidy for living in Paris. There was a good salary increase, commensurate with the level increase, but no cost of living increase for Paris. The mortgage coverage for our house in the US was underestimated by about 25%. On the face of it, it seemed a disaster. But, I was sure there must have been some miscommunication between the US human resources and the French. This was nothing like what was promised by Ms. S of the manicured nails. That must have been the problem, a lack of communication. I was sure I could get that sorted out. I tried not to be too let down. I could make this happen. I would not give up.

I got back to the hotel and greeted Sean with a big wet kiss and the happy news! He had no idea that I could be hired on the day of my interview and come home with a contract in hand. We speedily were on the same page as far as the contract. We really are kindred spirits and had already discussed it. We were in high spirits that night as we headed out for dinner. We ate at a diner and had another fabulous meal. I had fettuccine pasta with salmon strips. This meal could have easily gone astray had one over cooked the salmon, but it was done perfectly and the salmon remained tender. Sean had a mushroom stew that he said was wonderful.