Paul's Place 🍸☕ 🍌 🍩 🏝️🔥
🔙 (Click on the picture for a focused view)

Make yourself at home.
The vibe here is relaxed...

Vodka slushie ? 🍸 Coffee ? ☕,
I've put in a wine rack.
It's next to the fridge - in the kitchen.
Help yourself.

Ever wondered...
what they do in small, Texas towns?
One Hot and Sticky Day In Fate Texas

. 😶 Good sex is like bridge.
If you don't have a good partner,
you'd better have a good hand.

* Words are like meatloaf - they can be sculpted into any shape you choose. . . . .
(* ©April 2018-19 June Paul P. )
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My Private Mail Box
Publié :12/7/2018 9h41
Dernière mise à jour :22/6/2019 4h26
146304 vues
My Private Mail Box 📩 ....
Click Comments , leave a message and check your own Blog Main Page - 'Where I.m Quoted' ... or come back here.
🍸 ☕
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0 commentaires , 62 En cours
Sex... Lies... And The Missing Chicken... 🐔🤔
Publié :24/6/2019 13h22
Dernière mise à jour :24/6/2019 14h35
57 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

I told my daughter a small lie the other day. She texted me, and asked what I was up to. I didn't feel comfortable replying; "I'm on a 'world famous sex site', perving naked women." So instead... I told her; "I'm making chicken parmesan." Which was GOING to be true... soon enough. It reminded me of the times, adults in my tribe, had fibbed. Were they trying to protect me?

My grandparents emmigrated from Europe and tried to emulate their rural lifestyle, in urban Montreal. So of course... they bred rabbits, in a pen - in their backyard. Didn't everyone?

My brother and I were very young. We didn't understand, that whole 'sex thing'. Every month or so, we'd see new baby bunnies, hopping about, in that fenced in enclosure. We'd be told, that a friendly neighbour, had brought them as gifts. Come to think of it... it was kinda strange, to see that fat male bunny, always flopped, on top of the female bunny. She never seemed to mind.

We had (what I now realize, was), rabbit stew, quite often... at Granny's place. She would tell us, that it was chicken. What did WE know? It tasted like chicken. They soon got rid of the rabbit farm.
Grandma and Grandpa then diversified... into chickens.

I'll always remember that FIRST one. My granny brought home, a live chicken, from the market.
She put the 'poulet', under a clothes hamper and told my brother and me, that there was a chicken, in the basement. Well... can you imagine, our excitement, when we ran down those stairs, and actually saw, a live chicken? My grandfather asked us, if we wanted to pet that bird. What do you think we said? "Of course!" 

Twenty minutes later, my grandpa, was still chasing, that fricken chicken, around his work bench. My brother and I were laughing so hard, we could hardly supervise, the chase. He wasn't amused!

A few days later.... we no longer found, our pet chicken downstairs. When we asked grandma about 'Bob' (that was his name), she replied;

"The chicken escaped!" 

We were sad. With my four year old mind, I didn't think of asking; how he got out, or where he might have run to. There were two sets of doors to open and they lived, on a six lane boulevard. How did he turn the door handles? A better question, might have been - why did he cross the road?

That night, grandma served rabbit stew ; or so she said. That rabbit, tasted great. And surprisingly... a lot, like chicken.

To this day, I have no idea where.... that silly chicken went to. D'ja think it's still roamin' the streets of Montreal... somewhere?

Yep... little lies and tiny deceptions. All meant to protect young minds. I somehow doubt, today's kids have that same buffer. Or do they need one? I was pretty open about everything, with my kids. Except the thing about THAT sex site, last week.

She'll figure it out one day. Or not. Doesn't really matter, does it? Maybe SHE'S ... on one.

Sugar coated lies... did you tell them?
Ever notice, how many things taste like chicken?

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6 commentaires
Throw Me a Party🎉... When I'm Dead and Gone 😄... I'll Bring The Music 🎶 🤗
Publié :21/6/2019 10h56
Dernière mise à jour :24/6/2019 13h15
537 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

Last Sunday, I spent the afternoon at the cemetery. It was a hot and balmy, June day. Fat, grey squirrels, scurried amongst the gravestones. A clear blue sky and a lush green vista... framed my view. The scent of apple blossoms and lilac, d the air. I stood there... amongst the dead. It was quiet and peaceful. But I was there, for a purpose.

There is, a Christian Orthodox tradition, 'Trinity Sunday' (celebrated eight weeks after Easter, on the 'Julian Calender' ), where ALL the departed, are honored with a gravesite ceremony. It's presided by family and friends and a priest. The prayer and incense infused, 'Thurible' blessing is brief - but it brings people together.

When my grandmother was alive, we'd all go back to her home and have a simple meal. The adults would recall stories and share memories and drink shots of vodka. They'd spend time laughing and reminiscing. As a kid... I'd just look forward, to eating Grandma's roasted chicken and garlic mashed potatoes. Since my grandmother passed away, WE all just go, our separate ways... home. Kinda sad, when I think about it. But what I saw, as I drove through the cemetery... struck me. Some people - still get it RIGHT !

I was heading towards the Main Gates, when I passed a cluster of people, spread out by a gravestone. Blankets on the ground, marked a crawl way, for the tiny toddlers, too small to walk. The women sitting there, doled out bread and meats and cheeses and... d up plastic glasses, with wine. Younger children played round the monuments, chasing each other, giggling. The men stood by, telling stories, while they laughed and toasted in the air, with arms raised.

Ya know... I think that's the way, I'd like to be remembered. When I'm dead and gone, throw me a fucking PARTY... by my gravesite. Bring on the food and wine and vodka. Oh and... put the music up, FULL blast. It'll be tough, for me to hear the tunes!

Damn... I thought of something; "They better not play any fricken disco ." I'll start working, on that music mix. I wonder, what my first song would be?

Ya think you'd want, or deserve, a party in your honor, when you're gone?
What would be, your first tune? 🤔

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57 commentaires
If Hotel Rooms... Could Share Your Secrets... What Would They Say... 😏
Publié :17/6/2019 12h45
Dernière mise à jour :23/6/2019 9h56
4280 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

Rented space...a party place or a lover's lair, an immoral tryst. Where beer and pizza stains and love's smears... can remain hidden. Only you'd know, where to find them; though you wouldn't care. No one does. A souvenir, forever buried... or perhaps not. Sometimes splayed, proudly on white cotton sheets... to prove, you both lay there.

You're alone... for a moment. A shower's stream, tumbling in the bathroom, gives proof - it's safe. Panties thrown on a chair. You lay down, press your nose, into the pillow... and nudge your senses, one more time. You close your eyes and fein surprise. Cologne meshed with perfume, a musky odour - pheromones... still linger. The remnants ( faint scent), can still arouse... and electrify a memory.

It's early and barely light. The room... is yours. Do what you might.

The mystery of a hotel or a motel room. What stories would it share?Or would you even be there?

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45 commentaires
I Did Not Want... To Make Her Wet💧... Or Did I... 😊
Publié :13/6/2019 12h28
Dernière mise à jour :17/6/2019 21h26
14522 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

It was early, last Sunday morning. I made a left and turned my car, towards the marina. The previous night's rain, had left an inviting, six inch deep, mirrored pool of water. I considered the most obvious - 'irrational male option'. You know the one! That's where I gun the car and drive like an idiot. The one where I forge, an unrepentant hellbent path, down the middle of the street. The ten foot shower, that would be sprayed, on either side of my hurtling car, would make for an impressive show. If only there had been, anyone there - to watch. Then.... I saw her.

She was tall and fit and my kinda gal. She was walking her tiny dog - a fluffy white Shih Tzu . They hugged the very edge, of the only bits... of dry sidewalk remaining. Their heads were bowed as they tip toed carefully along. She was sharply dressed, in a short black skirt, white runners and a beige sweater that sparkled... with finely sewn glitter. I perched my arm, on the outside of my open window and slowed, to almost zero. I didn't want to make any waves.

She must have thought, that I had something to say. She took out the ear buds, from her phone, and stopped and looked at me. I hadn't planned on saying anything. I was watching the water, as it sloshed and splashed up my tires. But now, well... I felt compelled. I said the first dumb thing, that came to mind.

"I don't know who's cuter; you... or your dog."

She laughed. I continued.

"Does your husband usually let you walk your dog alone, this early? You never know what type of strange people, you'll run into."

She laughed again and spoke. "Oh... I'm not married. But I notice... YOU'RE wearing a ring. Perhaps you should be careful who YOU, speak with," she replied, smiling coyly.

I hesitated... just for a second. Was that an invitation?

"No... I'm not married either. Gold is my colour and it matches my watch. Look out for the water. I don't want to get you all wet," I waved... and slowly eased on... by.

Now THAT... was lame! I was kinda speechless. A rarity for me. I usually have a glib reply. She had a point, about the ring. I've worn that ring for all the years I was married and all the years, since I wasn't. I've worn it forever! It fits nice. I am used to it. It's gold and I feel odd without it. I am constantly nudging my thumb against it, playing with it... twirling it round and around. Do you know what I mean?

As I drove into the marina, I pulled off the ring and put it on my right hand. "There!" I thought. Simple enough. Looks fine and... on the right hand, it doesn't symbolize marriage. Does it? I steered my car into a spot and put it into 'Park'. Things... just didn't, feel right. My ring, was rubbing up against the shifter and my steering wheel... and everything. The short experiment, was over. The ring was going back, on my left hand.

Seven minutes later and that fucking ring, was still stuck, on my right hand. Yes... I eventually pried it, off my swollen finger. I pushed it back on my left hand... where it belonged.

Some things, are just meant to be. Some things just won't change... even, if they should. My ring looks fine, where it is. Heck... it even keeps the flies away... if I flash it.

What do you think?

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48 commentaires
Do I Need... Whiter Teeth... To Get Fucked... Damn...😁
Publié :11/6/2019 13h12
Dernière mise à jour :19/6/2019 7h47
13897 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

Last Saturday... we sat there, amongst a couple of hundred other parents. WE chose, the right side of the auditorium. The side, without the fucking kids crying. Who... takes a baby... to a College Graduation? Or am I too harsh? Eventually .. they introduced the names, in HER class. I fumbled with my phone. "Don't fuck this up!", I thought to myself.

I didn't. It was such - a surprisingly, smooth ceremony. Eloquent... in fact and at moments, profound. The Director paused... and asked all the graduates, to place themselves, back into that moment, as they FIRST stepped, through the DOORS, of the College. He asked them, to recall their questions : " Can I ? Is it possible? Will I be able to?"

"Well... You HAVE !" he loudly pronounced, to rousing applause.

It all went well. And I almost teared up. My 'Ex' nudged me and smiled. I shared her pride! Oh... but then...I looked back at her and was momentarily distracted. ...

Damn... she looked old. Am I an asshole for saying that?

What happened to her blond hair? Why was she wearing a cotton table cloth and flats? Didn't she still own, a pair of classy heels and a tight fitting dress ? So many OTHERS there, did. I am, shallow... I guess... I presume I didn't look the same as she recalled me, last time we met

We took the pictures... and others... took pictures, for us.

My beaming daughter (who had graduated), and who starts her career, as a Dental Hygenist... (one month from now) ... looked at the pics that were taken.

"Dad. I love you! But you need to seriously look after your teeth. Ya know... I can get you IN, without an appointment. Dad! Seriously!"

I love my daughter and she loves me. Are my teeth, that bad? Do I need white teeth, in order to get laid?

I'm thinking... my personality, might be a partner, in THAT decision. My daughter will advise me on that whitening procedure. She promised me!

What about you?

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58 commentaires
FrankeeZee... the Russian Girl😘... and Porno Pizza Delivery... 🍕
Publié :29/5/2019 13h33
Dernière mise à jour :11/6/2019 8h12
27320 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the text. Please be patient.

A couple of weeks ago, *FrankeeZee told me, that he had found, a part time job, delivering pizza. I was surprised. I thought, you couldn't drive a vehicle, if you had a suspended licence. FrankeeZee claimed; "It's a tiny misunderstanding, with a judge, about a minor ticket, for a very small amount- a technicality... really."


So... (as I began to say), Frankee got this job, as a pizza delivery guy. I don't mean the "cool, porno kind"; just a "shitty regular kind". Last Friday night I was sleeping, when at three in the morning - the phone rang. It was FrankeeZee and he needed my help. I asked him what was going on, but he wouldn't say. He told me to drive to an address. I don't really trust FrankeeZee, farther than I can throw a pumpkin, but he is , my friend. Off I went... into the dark... to rescue my buddy.

I drove about ten minutes and reached a beautiful ranch style house, near the lakeshore. I'd barely finished pressing the doorbell, when FrankeeZee flung open the door and started talking... a mile a minute.

"Paul... I need your help..."

I walked into the living room. FrankeeZee began explaining to me how he had wanted, to call 9 1 1 BUT, because of his suspended license... he didn't. I interrupted him, when I noticed the completely naked woman, beautifully spread out, on the thick, living room carpet. There was a pillow neatly tucked under her head... a large green dildo, sticking in her vagina... and a wide smile... pasted on her face. She was passed out... and snoring.

"Frankee... what the fuck is going on here? What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Paul... She's not the problem. She was like that, when I got here. After I rang the doorbell, I heard someone calling for help. The door was unlocked. I ran in and found her sleeping. THERE'S the problem, " and he pointed toward the back yard. "I should pull that dildo out of her. She might be more comfortable," he added.

I yanked FrankeeZee by the arm and we walked to the sliding glass doors. As I stepped onto the patio, an empty bottle of vodka and a man's bathing trunks, greeted my left foot. It was then, that I noticed... the naked guy. He was sitting neck deep, in this huge, bubbling jacuzzi. He began hollering at us. FrankeeZee nodded at me and spoke.

"Ya see? This is why I needed your help. I don't know, what his problem is. He's been screaming at me in Russian and I don't understand, a fucking word he's saying."

I understand Russian. I UNDERSTOOD, the naked guy's problem. I looked at FrankeeZee and blinked.

"This is messed up Frankee. Ya know what his problem is? He's got his dick, stuck in one of the suction jets of that jacuzzi and he can't get it out. He wants me to get to the controls, turn off the pumps and cut the main power, so he can pry his cock outta there."

"Seriously? How do you get your cock stuck, in a jacuzzi jet? "

I didn't have time to answer. The naked Russian guy, was telling me how to shut the whole system down I ran to the controls and followed his instructions. Bang .... the lights in the jacuzzi, the pumps, the jets and bubbles - everything stopped.

That guy in the tub, splashed around and grunted, till he finally, freed his dick. Then... there was total silence... except for the heavy breathing, of a relieved... Russian. He soon, began to thank me profusely, while he put on his trunks.

We didn't leave, right away. That (formerly naked) Russian guy (Alexey), offered us shots of vodka. We drank and ate the pizza, that FrankeeZee had delivered. The attractive naked lady (Natasha), we found on that carpet? Well... she eventually woke up and joined the party. We had a great time and made new friends.

I never did ask Alexey, how he got his dick stuck. And FrankeeZee? Well... he's convinced, that we were being filmed. Oh and... he also got fired from his pizza job.

FrankeeZee, will never get, to be that - "porno pizza delivery guy". Although, he checks 'pornhub' daily, for any new - "pizza delivery guy" videos.

What's the worst job, you've ever had?
Do you eat midnight snacks?

*FrankeeZee is a member and top blogger, of ™FOGCAF - Friends Of Good Clean Adulterous Fun

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36 commentaires
Select Pics... For A Perfect Friday... 😊
Publié :24/5/2019 17h10
Dernière mise à jour :29/5/2019 13h43
30921 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.

It's Friday ... not much going on?

Or perhaps there are... a ton of things you've got planned.

And a bunch of stuff... you can imagine!


Plan on THIS ... or just imagine it !


... let know where you want this to go.


Any plans for tonight?

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31 commentaires
Early Exposure To Sex... Does It Cause Bad Habits... 🤔
Publié :23/5/2019 12h24
Dernière mise à jour :29/5/2019 18h01
31013 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.

I was on this sex site, late last night ; 'A F F' ... ever heard of it? I was reading a blog by 'smartasswoman'. Her post was titled - "CBT... " (cock, ball, t.orture). Fascinating stuff! But it got me thinking. Early exposure to sexual material, may have affected my behavior. I might have been under prepared. Am I a product of sex, at too early an age?

I typed in, a search on the web. There it was. 'Psychology Today' , came out with an article, a few years ago, analysing the relationship between - early exposure to sexual content and its effects on men and women. Turns out... it's not good.

Among the conclusions reached, were;
(1) Early exposure to boys, of sexually explicit media led to a three times higher probability of engaging in sex and oral sex, within two years of exposure. Young girls... twice as likely.
(2) Both men and women would suffer from ; sex, love and relationship addictions.
(3) Both men and women would develop a higher interest in kinky sex, humiliation and other deviant sexual behavior, including BDSM.
(4) It also lead to shaping values, when it came to; attitudes, behavior and relationships. (Although... those attitudes weren't described.)

I was 7 years old, when the boy across the street, pulled out a deck of playing cards; he'd borrowed, from his older brother. We never played ONE game, of 'Crazy Eights'. We did, spend hours and hours, admiring the colour pictures, on those cards. He managed to get his hands on an "adult" magazine, that year as well. There were no articles written in it. I learned, to appreciate the value of - 'close up' photography. And... if you recall (from my blog last week), my 'next door neighbour' (that eleven and a half year old girl) and I, managed to get into... uhmm.... some pretty serious exploration... of our bodies. I'm still in shock, that she could USE me, like that.

Which brings me to my point. Looking back over my sexual life... there seems to have been a pattern, that has developed. A certain kinkiness, that has emerged, over the years. I don't know, if it's my early exposure, to all that sexual media and materials. Or was it due to my influential neighbours? Perhaps I'd be the same person, with the same kinks I have today ; in spite of their manipulative ways and t.hat deck of cards.

I can only imagine (what with, the internet and porn sites), how much easier it is for today's youth - to get a head start on sex. I don't know where I'd be, if I had access to the web... back in the day. Omg! 😱

Perhaps that knowledge, should best be supervised, by a mature and well balanced adult. If they exist. Someone who knows better. Someone with a measured perspective. What do you think?

I'm not sure, you should ask me. I ended up leaving comments on "smartasswoman's " blog. I wondered... if anyone there, was interested in 'sounding'.

Google it... 😶

Do you think early exposure to sexual content and media has affected your sexual appetite and personality: or what DID affect it?
Talking about appetite... whatcha y'all got goin' on the menu for this long weekend?

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36 commentaires
That Other Woman... Across The Room... 🍸
Publié :21/5/2019 11h43
Dernière mise à jour :23/5/2019 20h49
32609 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.

She stood there... commanding her space; delicately holding a glass of white wine, in her hand. She brushed a stray hair, from her brow and looked, at that other woman, across the room. She thought to herself...

... I know, what she sees in me. It's my dress and my hair. And the diamond earnings... I'm not shy to wear. It's my shoes... which spike the floor. Is she staring in disbelief? It's so obvious, even as she tries to hide, her interest in me.

A moment before, that other woman had walked by... and paused... ever so slightly. She smelled your cologne on me. Just a faint whisper of its scent. I know. She might once, have had it smeared , on her neck and her cheek... or that humid space, between her thighs; and wherever else... you'd touched her

Yes... I thought about that. Then casually, she stepped closer, as if to chat with a friend. But it was... to measure, and challenge me. I glanced at her.... and smiled. My eyes moved up... then down. I made sure , she noticed. I never had to tell her, to fuck off .

You did that for me, dear. Unknowingly... of course. You walked by, stopped and kissed me. I held you. You kissed me again... the way you do. She stood there... mouth gaping, then... she walked away.

And there, she stands; alone... across the room. A fucking tear, in her eye. I could care...

... less.

Are you a jealous, possessive, type of person?
How many of you are tired, of answering my usual question; "Whatcha y'all gonna have for dinner?"

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29 commentaires
The Very First Time... 😊
Publié :20/5/2019 12h20
Dernière mise à jour :16/6/2019 6h55
36752 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.

I drove through, my old neighbourhood, over the weekend. All... has changed. But... I thought of a childhood memory...

I recalled everything clearly, as if it happened yesterday. It was late August and summer, was passing by too quickly. The afternoon sun blazed... through a bright, hazy sky. It was humid and clammy. Even if you stood still, you'd sweat, the type of wetness, would stick to your eyelids. day, surprised me. SHE surprised me.

I was a kid, barely ten. She was much older than me - eleven and a half. We lived on a, brand new street , just behind a thick forest. There were plenty of interesting things, to discover in there. The older boys, were always building small, "make believe" forts and mazes, out of tape and large cardboard boxes - once held new fridges.
She was my best friend; the girl next door - literally . We were bored. It was too hot to go for a bike ride. We'd run out of things to do... and games to . Summer, had taken its toll, on our imaginations.

She had an idea and motioned to me. "Paul.. let's go to the forest."

I followed her. We entered the cool shade of the trees and made our way, towards the cardboard fort; the one in the middle of forest. We stopped the flimsy doorway, labeled - "Frigidaire". Her question to me, was a simple one. All I had to do, was answer it . The cicadas, buzzed impatiently... while I thought, of what to say. My stomach, felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, were nesting there. I knew... what I wanted, to say.

Ahh... you know... never mind. It was a long time ago. She moved away the following winter. I never saw her after . But that day... I'll never forget - THAT day! I was ten... and she was eleven and a half.

They've built an apartment block complex, where that forest used to grow. There were some kids, playing outside, as I drove by.

When you were a kid... did you have a favorite or special place to play?
Whatcha y'all havin' for dinner?

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37 commentaires
Once It's Over... It's Over... Isn't it... 🤔
Publié :16/5/2019 12h13
Dernière mise à jour :14/6/2019 6h12
42519 vues
Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient.

She was... a perfect view. A woman, I would have been proud... to have draped, over my shoulders. She was standing tall... my height. Her black dress, hugged every subtle curve, of her body. Anyone would notice, her 'better than perfect posture'. You know... the type you'd see, in gymnasts or ballerinas? Her eyes, were deep, brown pools. I could loose myself, in those. I looked away. I was slightly taken aback... when she turned to me and spoke.

"You were here first. Go ahead. I'm in no rush," she smiled.

"Neither am I. You look, as if you're on you're way to somewhere."

"No. Actually... I'm on my way back ... from somewhere," she nodded.

I took a step closer. I put my energy drink and nature bar, on the counter... next to the cashier and reached for my wallet. I guess... I must have created a slight breeze. She looked amused, as she spoke.

"You're wearing the same cologne, I bought for a boyfriend... once."

"Really? He sounds, like a lucky guy!" I replied.

"He was... lucky, for a while," she laughed. "I've moved on. Now... he's just a friend. Someone, I once knew."

The cashier, stood there and watched us. No one else, was in the store. I pulled out my credit card. She spoke again.

"Actually... I just accidentally, ran into him, at a restaurant. It was his birthday. A friend of mine, tried to get us back together. What a mistake. HUGE... mistake!"

"I know what you mean," I replied. You could have just sent him a card, or called him," I tried to make a joke.

"For me... once it's over, it's over. And I'm not into, touching someone, over the phone. I pushed away. He's still pulling," she feathered a stray hair, from her eye brow.

I'd paid. I waited, while she did the same. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her wallet. "Pump number four."

She paid, then turned and brushed my arm... as she spoke.

"Nice meeting you. I really love ... that cologne. Don't give it up."

Flashing a silken smile, she strut her way out the door. I watched... as she stepped into her car.

Something she said, struck me. Is it possible, to touch someone... over the phone? If I was her 'ex' ... even a phone call from her, might keep me going.

I was halfway to my car, when I realized something. Damm...! I'd forgotten to buy, a Lotto ticket. I trudged back inside. I looked at the clerk, behind the counter and frowned. He looked back at me, grinned a wide grin and spoke.

"Lotto ticket? I didn't want to interrupt."

Is it possible to build a relationship; to 'touch someone', over the phone?
Is there a second chance, once you've said goodbye?

My usual question: Whatcha y'all havin' for dinner?

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60 commentaires
She Stood In Front... Of That Mirrored Window...
Publié :13/5/2019 13h31
Dernière mise à jour :16/5/2019 19h46
46472 vues
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The guy in front of m.e , ordered; "Grande, Iced, S.ugar-Free, Vanilla Latte with Soy Milk," and then... he smugly, stood to the side. He had perfectly coiffed hair, sported a tie and jacket... and a trimmed, six day beard. He was, a typical hipster. They all look alike, don't they? I glanced at him and grinned. My turn; "Medium coffee," I announced, to the barista, with the dark green apron. She poured my coffee. The hipster waited.

I took my cup and walked to the bar stools, right by the counter near the front windows. The brilliant morning sun, was streaming in; but the tinted glass... kept things nice and dark and cool. Downtown traffic was snarled. People bustled this way and t.hat. It felt good to be sitting there. I was early for work. This moment of peace and tranquility, was a much appreciated change, from my usual morning mayhem. My hipster buddy, sat next to me, a few seats over. Then he realised, his laptop, was too large for the counter. I smiled sympathetically and he fucked off... to a table seat, somewhere behind me.

People are funny. Have you ever observed them? I sipped my coffee and watched everyone, scurry by. They were running for buses, waiting on lights and stopping to chat on their phones. There were the brave ones, who texted and walked... with their heads down. This city, has a bylaw against t.hat. I've never once, seen anyone get a ticket. Then... SHE appeared in my view.

She might have been in her early thirties and she was... beautiful. The type of look, found on magazine covers. Her aura, had men gawking. I watched, as distracted guys, barely brushed by lamp posts. I smiled as they bumped into, the people in front of them. I noticed other women, did a double take, when they looked at her. She could have stopped traffic, but it was already, at a standstill.

At the light, she turned and walked towards my window and stopped. At first, I thought, she might be l.ooking directly, at me. I was about to wave. Then it dawned on me - she was l.ooking at herself. She was l.ooking at her reflection, in the mirrored window. She undid the top button of her blouse and nudged her breasts. She adjusted her short black skirt and pulled up her nylons, from deep between her thighs then all the way up, to her waist. Peering closer into the glass, she wiped, a presumed smudge, on her lips. I could see the color of her eyes. They were silver blue. She placed a tuft of her brown hair, neatly, behind her ear. The light turned green. She turned around and moved on.

I collapsed back into my seat. Her pretend entourage, followed her. She manœuvred her long slender legs, across the street. The ones approaching her, spun their necks, to get a second look.

I wondered... what it must be like, to be t.hat beautiful. I've read about the advantages, attractive people have in life. Better jobs and salaries; better seats on the subway. Do you believe those myths?

I looked at my watch. I was going to be late... again. My hipster buddy, hadn't liked his beverage and was making a sour face. He was out of his seat, and trudging over, to the poor g.irl, in the dark green apron. As I stood u.p, from my seat, a friend from the office, paused by my window outside. It was Steve. He waved at m.e . I waved back. He can see m.e?

"Wow... " I thought.

People are funny, aren't they? T.hat woman with the silver blue eyes, was funny. And you know what? I.m ok with t.hat. I wondered, if she passed by this coffee shop every day. I'd see... tomorrow.

Do you turn your head and stare at someone good l.ooking ; or are you, one of them?
What's for dinner today?

Note : A F F is deleting words in the t.ext. Please be patient. Because I.m loosing mine. What a a perpetual cluster fuck of ineptitude.
. .
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  Paulxx001 62H
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Juin 2019
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