Mr Pint Stripes

I must confess. I forgot my password for blogger. It’s so me.

In literary absence, I’ve been dating. Finally. And probably the effects of reading one too many sex blogs is getting to me. I’m still far from being the village slut, that spot is permanently occupied by Claire.

I believe there is an impetuous flirt residing in my imaginary size 4 dresses. I’ve never really played the role of the coy sex starved kitten well but I make a great asset for wedding toasts.

I finally got hit on by a man with a better pick up than the regular army boys who flock to my champagne breath and padding rewarded cleavage with ‘can I buy you a drink?’. It was his impeccably impish smile, his carefully styled hair and imposing frame that held his pint stripped shirt like it was on mannequin.

His cigarette laced breath fell on me like a charm before insulting my choice of beverage. “Martini? Let me guess, next you’ll be having Sex on the Beach?”. I happen to like my Martini thank you, and I had half the mind to retort with something really witty.

“No.”

I quickly winched at myself. I’m really usually more capable of worthy answer but I’m insanely prone to falling for cute men and martinis. He made a slight frown and I quickly arched myself closer, hoping recapture his attention and prepared myself to buy a drink for redemption.

Another impish grin and I nearly buckled at my knees. My Miu Miu slipped down my shoulders and it stirred another grin from him. I swore if he had continued grinning, my blouse would have fallen off. “So are you going to tell me your name or do I have to get it from you using tequila.” Suave, cocky and very good looking.

I wished I had Agent Provocateur’s wit to save myself or Butterfly’s sharp tongue to twist this around. The other option was the D cup resort but my appointment with the surgeon was still ear-marked for review and he didn’t seem too impressed with my regular B’s.

He immediately inched towards me. “I’m guessing this means tequila.”. I nodded then placed my palm against his arm to keep a distance, only to pull him in closer the next second.

“Make that a Blowjob..”


I’ll continue later, blogging is insanely taxing…