Ta-daa!

As you can see, I had an insane urge to redesign my blog again. Sigh. I do like how it came out though, except for the fact that I don't know how to fix the cut off font in the post titles.. I will try to change that, and I hope I'll succeed because I heart this font and really don't want to replace it (and do the header and navigation etc. pp. anew). If anything else doesn't work for you, let me know! And no, the girl in the header is not me. I am far too chubby to be able to draw myself!

The perfect cut.

This amusing short story was written by my dearest Master himself, inspired by my bookshop-themed story. I shudder to think about the possibility of this very embarrassing and squirm-inducing scene happening somewhere in the future - let's hope he's forgotten all about it once the opportunity for it arises.

“The specials are roast duck with mango salsa, a London broil—“ the waiter began reciting by rote.
“A London boil, you say?” I queried. The waiter halted, his expression neutral at the rude interruption. “Yes, sir. Prepared with a—“ he began with little interest. Once again, I interrupted. “Which cut of beef would the London broil be?” The waiter answered from memory, not from understanding. “The cut is round, sir.” My eyebrows lifted slightly as my eyes met that of Juliane, my date this evening. “Round, also known as rump roast. Wonderful.”

Instantly, Juliane’s eyes widened. She now had an inkling of the trap she had inadvertently allowed herself to be led into. Her delicate features conveyed silent pleading, her palms turning up in unwitting supplication. With a wink, I continued. “This rump, is it tender?”
The waiter sighed, and muttered what sounded like “Amerikaner” under his breath before answering. “Extremely, sir. It has been prepared by massaging for hours to retain the juices otherwise lost by penetrating the meat,” he explained, oblivious to his role in this farce.
Juliane leans forward and lifts to her face a linen napkin to hide her embarrassment, the blush still visible on her throat and ears.

“When prepared rare, how red does this rump become?” I asked, a slight smirk on my face. The waiter looked puzzled, before realizing what I must have meant, as opposed to the literal meaning of my words. “The chef takes the massaged rump and broils it three inches from the flame. Once the juices have redistributed the rump is sliced across the grain in thin strips.”
The soft groan of exasperation elevates my smirk to a full smile, Juliane’s horror and humiliation being utterly ignored by the waiter.

“The lady and myself will have the London broil,” I inform the patient waiter, my hand under the table squeezing above Juliane’s knee and caressing her thigh. “I am certain the rump will be most delicious.”
As the waiter turns to leave the table, I ask a final question. “Excuse me, but what I wish to take the rump home when I have finished dining?” Without interrupting his stride, the waiter half-turned to answer while heading for the kitchen with a large, knowing smile. “I will be more than happy to wrap it for you, sir.”

Getting on top of myself again.

Yeah, I know.. I should be sorry and duly repentant for not having shown a sign of life through four weeks.

I'm not, though - since, for inexplicable reasons, the mighty entity called Hard Vanilla Life hit me full force after I'd more or less evaded it for 18 years. Thus, I suddenly found myself surrounded by family drama, professors showering me with Greek and Turkish words in lectures, leaving me dumbfounded, and grave relationship problems, forcing me to banish all kinky thoughts from my mind for some time.

The last issue definitely consumed me most - I am reluctant to talk about (and bore you with) the reasons for all of this mess on here, but let's just say it was something fairly small that blew up like a gigantic mushroom cloud and caused an almost-breakup. Needless to say, I was thrown off-balance by that for quite some time, but now that we've come through it all, it feels like our love has been intensified, refocused by the near-impending doom.

It is hard to explain, and I feel silly just writing about this.. but I am glad we overcame it, together, and I am now even more convinced that he's my man, the one I can truly trust to keep my heart safe. Since we were unable to let go though we wanted to at one point, and eventually could make it through this stupid mess of fuckedupness, I am hopeful that we will withstand whatever hindrances may test us in the future in the same way.

How to trap a kinky bibliophile.

This evening had all potential to become a cosy and romantic one.. until ten minutes ago, that is.

Why couldn't I just have browsed kinky books silently on Amazon and resisted pointing out every promising discovery to him? I should have known that my teasing comment about how glad I was that I could order it anonymously online wouldn't go unnoticed.

He chuckles at first, but then his brows shoot up - never a good sign. "Hmm. You know, I heard Amazon has some fishy policies about how employees are treated. Perhaps you should order it at the book shop in town, to support the local economy." I smile amusedly at his suggestion, but that smile freezes on my face as I slowly realize that he is, indeed, serious. Instantly, images pop up in my mind, horrifying visions of me stuttering the title to elderly, bespectacled booksellers, who would then inevitably stare at me in disgust. There has to be a way to prevent that. Think quickly..

"Erm.. I don't think that is a good idea, dear - the book is so new that they probably don't even have it in their register." I try to put up a convinciningly concerned look, but he obviously isn't fooled. "Oh, I am sure they will be able to order your little fantasy fodder. And if not, it would have been worth the try, wouldn't it?" He winks and smirks at me wickedly; I cringe and scowl in response.

Unfortunately, I cannot hide my frustration anymore. "Do you really want me to embarrass the old ladies by making them type "Spanked: Red-Cheeked Erotica" into their antiquated computers?!"

He pauses. Just when I begin to hope that he's going to let me off the hook, he talks again: "Well.. not directly, no. You should know by now though that I'd never miss out on an opportunity to make you blush and squirm in public." I gasp and inevitably start to splutter incoherent sentences at him in outrage, but he quickly cuts me off with a stern glare.

"No protests, young lady. You will march your pretty ass into that book shop tomorrow and order that special book, or I'm afraid you'll have to read on your tummy for a week." His threats, uttered in an increasingly steely voice, never fail to intimidate me; I instinctively avert my eyes and mumble something that hopefully sounds obliging while my mind is racing. Good gracious.. how on earth am I going to get out of this one?

Hello, hello.. is there anybody out there?

Well, I guess I am not quite as lonely on this little blog as the unlucky person in Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb - at least, my stats tell me that around 50 persons read this blog per day. And since I am a neverendingly curious person and it also happens to be the Love Our Lurkers day invented by the fabulous Bonnie, I encourage you to comment and say Hello if you are one of those mysterious fifty.

Yes, I know it's pretty scary to take that hurdle at first - I can still remember my heart beating wildly as I typed my very first, tiny comment at Freshly Spanked. Viola and Irelynn seemed like those really cool people back then, the kind who always were in the spotlight with their group of equally awesome friends and adored by everyone else, and I was dead sure they wouldn't even answer my pitiful attempt to start interacting with them. But they did!

I was flabbergasted and incredibly shy at first, but I soon realized that while they were indeed some of the coolest persons I've ever met, they are also incredibly warm-hearted and caring - not sporting the kind of icicle coolness that includes laughing at other, a little awkward people at all.
So.. yeah. Bottom message is, feel free to come out of hiding - I am just a normal person, like you, and would love to get to know you.

P.S.: I've also added a rating system for the posts - so if you don't know what to say, you can always use that.