Phoebegetsit on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Sweat This!

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

They made love in the hot Southern afternoon until she was satisfied several times before he completed the job with his usual crescendo and immediate lack of interest. They were both hot and glistening.

“Oh,” he said, jumping up, “I just have to shower, you know I must always be clean.”

So off he went, leaving her to wonder as usual if he quite got it. Mars and Venus had no effect, she thought, although he said he’d read it. It was time to encourage a little more post-coital appreciation. A woman of means, she cracked her laptop and soon found exactly what she was looking for. Some clicks and around $500 later, she was closing it when he came out of the bathroom, in a cloud of her expensive soap, toweling off his hair.

Up Against It

Thu, 20 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Dinner was over.

“Have some more wine,” she said, then let’s go have some fun."

“OK, I said, “I’ll go up and get dressed”.

“Ooh,” she called after me, “Put your hair up, and then put on that cute lace cami that ties at the shoulders. And the black mini with the g-string. That’s all you’ll need.

Now I was wondering what she had in mind. She was right, though, because courtesy of twenty years of ballet, I’m the poster child for the boyish figure, and I only own one bra, appropriately from Barely There, which goes under flimsy tops if, say, I need to foil my lecherous dentist who likes to lean over me and say ‘open wide’. Right - in your dreams, Bicuspid Breath.

The Tale of A Chronic Masturbator

Fri, 14 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

At the tender age of six, I found my anatomy endlessly fascinating and I remember holding my mother’s make-up mirror down below while I peed, to see exactly where it was all coming from. Such a revelation! Of course, I knew about the back office, because my older sister, who claimed to know everything, made jokes about ‘where chocolate’s made’ all the time. When I asked her about the front, she just looked embarrassed, and said darkly, ‘You’ll see,’ probably because she’d been at school when the Big Red Moment happened, and was mortified to have to do the walk of shame all the way home wearing a giant maxi pad.

Handle With Care

Wed, 17 Oct 2012 00:00:00 +0000

It happened quite subtly while they were making love. He was kissing her bottom and as he parted her cheeks, he flicked her little flower with his tongue. Mmm, she said. They finished as usual, her a sweaty mess and him rolling over to see the end of the game. The next day, she thought about the little caress, and the next time he was inside her, she said, “If you wash your hands, you can feel around in there a bit”. He looked surprised, but jumped up and over to the sink. Sitting on him, she said, “OK, now put your finger in gently and feel yourself on the other side of the wall”.

Quiet Diet

Sun, 14 Oct 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The acronym IM is familiar to just about everyone, but to me, it’s my Inner Masochist, who suddenly introduced herself with a vengeance while I was dragging myself through puberty and hit on the brilliant idea of using Nair on my virgin pubic area. No fourteen-year-old ever reads instructions, so picture me bent over in agony, clasping my burning crotch and bawling while my sister beat her fists on the floor in a laughing fit. Fortunately, someone knew about EMLA Cream, which helped put out the fire, but after the initial sting was over I found the pain strangely addictive, like Arthur Denton, the patient and victim of the evil Orin Scrivello, DDS in Little Shop of Horrors. So there, I’ll admit it, I’m wired a little differently from most people. Later, there was an incident involving the infamous Trinidad Moruga Scorpion Chili Pepper Purée, which somehow came into contact with my nipples during a truth or dare session at a sleepover. I suspect that cheap malt liquor, the teen beverage of choice at the time, may have had something to do with it.

Sandaled

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

My favorite manicurist is a young woman with a golden touch who makes my hands and feet feel human again after my best effort all week to catch my nails on just about any hard surface. This week it had been a jacuzzi on July 4, and every time I got in and out my toes scraped on the pebbled stone steps. Totally worth it, though, I mean, how often do you get to watch fireworks at an exclusive resort, naked and submerged up to your neck in swirling water, sipping champagne and backed up against a perfectly positioned bubbly jet? Makes me sleep like a baby.