A New Start

Welcome to Textually Promiscuous! D@H was getting me WAY to much porn in my inbox, and it was getting old. I read the phrase "textually promiscuous" in a book the other day, and it struck me. I loved it so much I highlighted it in my book. It's the only time I've ever done that in a book that wasn't for school.

I thought we could start off with a round of "Ask Two Drink Girl Anything," So here are the guidelines:

• You can ask me anything, ranging from advice on how to apply makeup, to why hookers smell the way they do (That's for you Andy!), and I will do my best to answer truthfully or as entertaining as possible.
• You can ask me my opinion on anything, such as what I think of the writer's strike, if you should dump your boyfriend, etc.
• You CANNOT ask me about politics. Not many people reading this blog even care. In fact I think I could narrow it down to one person who cares. And even though I love her, I just get to worked up about it, and I never have all the information.
• You CANNOT ask me about my own personal sex life. As soon as I blog about something like that, then someone in my family always finds my site and that makes dinner with the in-laws really embarrassing. So I just won't do it. Ask me about any position in general, or sex in general, is fine.

Leave me a comment and ask me anything. They will be answered in the order they were asked, starting with Haloscan comments first. This post will stay at the top of the blog until the second week of January, so look below this post for new entries.

Slide

I noticed the brake lights go off on the car far ahead of me. I couldn't even tell what kind of car it was, it was so far away. But I pressed on my brake and slowed down.

Then I noticed they hadn't just put on their brake, but stopped. On the freeway. Going 65MPH.

I laid down on my brakes and felt my blood pressure rise. My small stuffed bear that sat under my back window flew to under a seat, and my Victoria's Secret Dog slide forward and almost fell off as well. My purse came off the passengers seat and lodged itself under my glove compartment, and my tires started to slide.

My brakes had locked up, and I was skating as if on ice towards the car in front of me. At this point I thought I'd skid to a stop because I was still so far away, but my body was frozen while my car careened forward, smoke spilling from under the tires.

I got closer and closer, and it felt like forever. Eventually I realized I was going to collide with this car. I cringed, prepared, said "Oh No!" and closed my eyes.

BAM!

I opened my eyes and saw the car in front of me pulling forward. I was puzzled; didn't he know I had hit him? Where was he going?

It took me a moment to realize his bumper was rubber, and I had bounced back. I checked my brakes again, this time they worked like nothing had been wrong, and I pulled off to the side of the road.

I was sick with worry. This guy was going to kill me. I'd kill anyone who had rear-ended me. He's going to be so mad. I didn't want to get yelled at for something my death-trap of a car did to me. It was my fault, but it wasn't. I felt like such a victim.

He got out of his car and looked at his bumper, which thankfully looked free from any damage. I couldn't even imagine how hard I had hit him. I'd been slowing down the whole time, but I'd started out around 60MPH.

"I am so sorry!" I said, running over to him. "My brakes, they...I'm so sorry. I can't believe that just happened. Is your car alright?"

"Yeah, actually, it just looks like a scratch. I barely missed the guy in front of me, he stopped dead for no reason at all, it's his fault. Do you want my insurance information? I don't have any damage, but you can have mine if you want."

"Not if don't want mine, my car has all the damage. I'm so sorry!" I couldn't stop apologizing. I was still in shock, I was having a hard time dealing with the fact that my car just betrayed me.

"Are you okay?" The man asked, seeing my obvious spiral into despair.

"No, I'm fine," I lied, then said "I'm so sorry!"

"Okay, well I'm kind of already late for something, so I'm going to go, as long as you are okay."

"No, no, go, I'm sorry to keep you! I'm so sorry I hit you!"

He pulled away, but I stayed awhile, freaking out. I got back into my car and went to the gym, where I was headed in the first place. I ran a mile and a half on the treadmill, then got stuck in traffic on the way home.

Stuck in traffic is where the shock wore off, and the whiplash came in full force. The tears came flowing forth, and I laid my head on the steering wheel and sobbed.

I was driving a death machine. And I have to pay off $12,000 more before I can get rid of it.

Hmmmmm....

I was in heaven.

My city had finally seen it fit to outfit us with an H & M. That wonderful place where things fit and don't cost that much. Those wonderful Swedish designers keep me clothed. I've already spent $60 there and they haven't even been open for two weeks.

During my third visit I was rounding the corner into the dressing rooms when a woman caught my attention. She was wearing one of those tiny vests and jeans, sort of like this:
Only she was busting out of everything. It was not pretty. She strode past me with an air of insolence, so that make me think that she worked there. Still, I couldn't hide my disgust of her choice of outfit. Not only was it not fitting well, but it looks like she was missing the cute white shirt that should have gone under the vest. Thankfully, she didn't see me.

However, I did see the same look I was wearing on the salesgirl ahead. Obviously vest girl didn't work there if she was looking on with such disdain. I couldn't help but to smile at her.

Her eyes traveled to me and immediately her features changed to embarrassment. I handed her the outfits I wanted to try on and she said "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to stare it at her, it's just that..." I whispered to her; "Well, I didn't want to say anything."

Again, she started to apologized, but I stopped her. "Please, everyone in this room was thinking the same thing you were, don't worry about it."

Yeah, We Work Out

"You two have exxxxcellent form." The overweight foreign man leered to Mischa and I.

I smiled wanly and we continued our workout in the pool. As per usual, we spent some time in the steam room after the work out. Creepy Fat Man (CFM) Followed us inside and commented again, "You two are in great shape. Amazing form. I'm not just being nice. When someone has good form like that, you have to admire it, to acknowledge it." After being thoroughly creeped out, we decided to haul it over to the shower (because rinsing off is something we've learned we have to do.) before going to sit in the hot tub.

Yeah, he followed us in there. He continued to tell us how great our form was, and then came out with this whopper.

"You two didn't train in the states. You two were trained in Europe."

Except for swim lessons as a kid, and swim team for me, we've had no 'professional training' nor is our form anything but mediocre. Which is what I tell this guy, and then we promptly leave.

Why do the weirdos come after us?

The Short Goodbye

"Does that have provolone on it?" The gruff cashier asked me.

I had just been daydreaming about where Zeet and I had gone wrong. The second he had opened the door and he hugged me I knew it was over. I knew it was over because he hadn't even showered. Somehow his lack of trying to look presentable for me indicated that it was over. I was busy being sad as I paid for my over priced sandwich, while Zeet already sat down, not even waiting for me.

I was sad, and grieving for the loss of my friendship when the cashier rudely interrupted my thought pattern.

"What?" I said, my credit card hovering above the machine to scan.

"The prosciutto sandwich comes with the provolone, I don't see it. I can't touch your sandwich...Lift up the top for me, let me see."

I was still confused as to why this was becoming such a big deal, but I obliged and lifted the bread on my sandwich. It was sans provolone. I looked at the guy, and the shit hit the fan. He lost it.

"Jerry, are you the one who made this sandwich? You are such a boneheaded idiot, how about adding some cheese to the fucking thing? You are lucky I don't fire your ass right now." He continued to add a string of profanity-laced commands to others before taking my card. It had gone from just paying for my food to a highly awkward situation.

After a minute Jerry returned my sandwich to me, saying he was sorry he forgot my cheese. "I didn't even notice, it's no problem." I smiled at him, sorry that he had such a tyrant for a boss. I've been there to many times not to know his pain.

I picked up my basket of sustenance, and walked over to what was sure to be the most awkward end of a friendship ever.

Creating Drama Part II

She leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. His breath tasted strongly of fluoride, and she noticed his toothbrush had fallen into his box of belongings. Seeing something as ordinary as a toothbrush in a box took her a little out of the fog she was in. She pulled away from Logan, but didn't remove her hands from his back.

Logan took this gesture as her needing some air, so he dipped down to shower kisses all over her neck. The smell of his aftershave and shampoo intoxicated her, and she felt herself falling back into the fog. Her desires for him overcame her head, and she moved her hands up the back of his head.

Without looking, Logan kicked the box back into the apartment, then swooped down and picked her up. He brought her inside to the kitchen, never breaking contact with her mouth. Setting her down on the breakfast bar, he reached over and removed her remaining shoe. She noticed there was a stereo on in a faraway room, pumping out a techno-tronic song. It seemed to only heighten her senses as his hand traveled from the arch of her foot to the inside of her thigh. The combination of the frigid air conditioning and his hand on her hip made her shudder.

She could barely form a sentence, but she was going to try.

"Logan, what--"

Logan put his hand over her mouth and leaned towards her.

"Shut up," he whispered in her ear, " You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this with you."

Logan's on again, off again girlfriend flashed briefly in front of her eyes. She wanted to ask him about her, but his hand was still pressed firmly over her mouth.

She puckered her lips and kissed his open palm. He smiled at her, and replaced his palm again with his mouth, making her dizzy with his kisses. His other hand continued it's trek along her thigh, and he leaned forward into her, making her lay down on the marble counter top. He walked his hands under her bottom until he reached the small of her back. Logan hooked his fingers under her string bikini bottoms and slid them off her body.

With a smirk on his face, he slingshot-ed them into the living room.

***

She pulled the blanket up around her chin and nestled her face into Logan's chest. He responded by melding his body into hers while leaning them back into the overstuffed chair in the living room. She didn't remember feeling this much at peace in a long time. She couldn't figure out why this felt so amazing with Logan when it never felt this way with Brayden. It was like she and Logan were cosmically connected. He anticipated what she needed, bringing her over to the chair and putting the blanket around them when he noticed she was cold. Brayden never thought to do anything for her anymore.

Logan had made her feel so sexy, so alive. She thought that this must be what its about; this is why people have affairs. The moment couldn't last forever though, and she kissed Logan goodbye and went searching for her clothes. She found all but one shoe, and couldn't find it. She and Logan looked all around the house for it, though they'd only been in the kitchen and living room.

Logan stopped the search to look at her and say "Next time we'll have to make it into the bedroom."

Suddenly she realized where the shoe was. She opened Logan's front door and looked down at her shoe. It stood in the middle of the expanse of astro-turf, sticking out at an odd angle with the entire heel under the ground. Her heart sank as she saw her single shoe, stuck, and alone.
She sat by the shoe and started to cry.

Creating Drama Part I

She stood at the door, her fist an inch from the painted wood. Emotions coursed through her body, and she suddenly had an urge to run. Her heart started pumping in her ears, and her vision blurred. She knew if she knocked, it would be the end of her current relationship. She loved Brayden, she didn't want to ruin it with him. But she was drawn to Logan, and she couldn't explain why.

She guiltily thought about those two days he crashed on their couch. That morning she awoke before everyone else and saw his muscular chest rise and fall, sprawled against the leather.

She shook her head out of the daydream and tried to get a hold of herself. She was imagining the looks they'd shared, the sexual tension between them. He was never interested in her, and never would be. He and Brayden were best friends, there was no way he looked at her as anything but an association. She was just going to drop off the stuff he'd left at the house and that would be it. She would be surprised if he even invited her in.

Convinced, she rapped on the door quickly, as if doing so would cause Logan to not hear it, and she could convince herself that she'd tried. After not hearing any movement inside the apartment, she bent down and set the box on the ground. Just as she was bringing herself upright, the door swung open with a gust of air conditioning blowing out.

She was eye-level with his amazing six pack abs, and she inhaled sharply. Panic washed over her again, and she struggled to keep control of her emotions. It would do no good to throw herself at her boyfriend's best friend...she refused to be that girl.

"I was just dropping your stuff off...so, you could have it." She stumbled all over her words, and he watched her with his amazing blue eyes, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He dropped down to pick up the box, and leaned towards her. She didn't move as he approached her, she was paralyzed with fear. He leaned over the balcony and spit out the toothpaste in his mouth, then thanked her.

He looked as if he was going to touch her, and she took a step backward instinctively. All at once the heel of her shoe went into the cheap astro-turf of the front stoop, and she went flying backwards.

Logan dropped the box and caught her by the waist in one fluid movement, and she suddenly found herself on the ground clutching him. She'd nearly went over the edge, and her breath had quickened.

"You are okay." He said simply, firmly. She suddenly realized how close they were, and she started to pull away, her cheeks flush with color. His grip tightened on her, and she looked up into his face for an explanation. Their eyes locked in a stare, and he put his hand on the back of her neck and drew her towards him in a passionate kiss.