Sunday, March 27, 2005
Service: * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * * *
I'm waiting for a first date with M (not the same M I met in Cresta on Friday. This is the M who works with L, who I met on Tuesday).
There's a table full of Paluhniak's nearby (surname and names changed to protect the innocent). Adam, the dad, is a fine satirical poet. Jemima, the daughter, is approaching puberty, or is in puberty's fearsome grip. She drew a pen portrait of me in my li'l Moleskine notebook last time I visited her mom. Neville is just a general long-haired spoiled brat of a kid, who MAY grow up to be a good guy, if all goes well. Their mom ISN'T at the table, cos they're divorced, and it's Adam's turn with the kids.
M breezes into the coffee shop, and she recognises me straight away. I recognise her too. I recognise her as a jolt of sexual energy and sheer delight.
Luckily, I've stated up front that I've decided lately to stop having sex on the first date. So we're safe. We're protected. We're NOT going to jump on each other within four seconds of meeting. It's just not going to happen.
She's small. She's blonde. She's got a raunchy, honey-coloured voice. She's got scrumptious breasts. She's curvy. She's bright. She delves into the world. She's stated up front that she's "a BDSM virgin", and she "intends to keep it that way".
I've told her that BDSM isn't the be-all and end-all to my world, and that I can sorta maybe kinda maybe-ish return to vanilla sex.
But I've also said that if she's ever had sex NOT in the missionary position, then there's a good chance she's done some kinky stuff before. So I'll work on the BDSM at some point. Cos, after all, I'm not into reallllly hardcore stuff. I mean, as delicious as her breasts seem to be beneath her blouse, I'm NOT fantasizing about skewering them on meat hooks and suspending her from the ceiling. Although I do know a guy who DOES fantasize about such things. And then carries them out!
We talk about all sorts of things.
"So," I say, "seeing as we can't have sex on the first date, how about the second?"
She ponders for all of eight milliseconds. "Sounds good!"
"Okay," I say, "let's have our second date right now. If we go downstairs to JB Rivers, and take different routes from each other, that's technically our second date."
"Let's go and walk around a bit first," she says. "We need to cool off."
I want this girl.