Prettyintelligentprincess

Arriving and climbing the stairs, she stopped to switch shoes.
Knocking on Room 46, she breathed hard and smiled, heart pounding, racing and attempted a serious demeanour.
Softly, it opened and she was directed to the chair, facing the mirror, by the director,
She swiftly took in the composition. Safe and calm and discreet and lovely.
He was lovely.
It began.
The audition began.
Sexy questions which she took in her stride; drew him closer, on his director's chair but he did not touch her.
Synopsis of the part for which she auditioned, props too!
He did not touch her...
Until...the dress slipped off her shoulders.
She watched in the mirror.
She wanted him. She wanted his sex, his passion, his filth; all of it.
The underwear, so carefully chosen gradually peeled away...then he touched her.
Slowly and intimately...
Fingers..hers...then his, everywhere and deep...
Tasting and sharing as she leant over the chair, curvaceous behind for him...
She wanted him,
Begged for him,
Came for him,
Then, the real audition began.
His fingers completely filled her cunt as his tongue fucked her deeply, juices all over, duvet trashed

His mind completely at the same level...so intricately rude, so intricately delightful.
Apparently, she passed her audition and awaits her next role

Audition update.
Tomorrow.
Lunch.
Same time.
Same place.
Same menu.

Sexy, naughty, intelligent fucking at last.
It's been too long since the last intelligent time and I need something to tide me over until the decadent rich intimacies can be had once again with The Floydian Fan.

The best laid plans...to get laid: scuppered, for now at least.
Priorities.
Poor Sportacus is really not well and motherhood must reign in the first instance.

She listened to the silence as the small child finally gave in, and slept, succumbing to his temperature and his illness. Her other child was out with friends and she settled quietly, hoping, just hoping her son would not wake; she was tired and needed some silent respite and some calm.
Lying back on the cool duvet, she closed her eyes and smiled; the secrets skipping around her head, making her dizzy, making her slightly squirm. France was actually in France now and had sent her a melancoly message, yearning and desiring. She needed something more immediate.

Brief text from FF last night. I replied, then silence. I'm being sensible, as is he, but I feel like screaming at the phone.
Just had text from France; he's just going in the tunnel (The one under the channel silly!) Lovely and eloquent communication from him last night. Clear boundaries and expectations yet emotional and desirable.

Well, Manc Man has sent me the script. Not literally, but as good as!
I am an aspiring actress and I'm turning up for my audition in his adult movie! Oh god, I'm giggling as I write this!I have to answer questions, strip slowly and follow his instructions with particular positions, play erotically with myself (yawn, such a man thing...),and with my permission, ONLY with my permission, he then wants to take a few snaps and then give me a feisty, hearty fuck...still 'IN ROLE.'
MMmm.

Slight alarm bells...however, I have to say, if this was with Floyd Fan, we'd have the steamiest most electric build up to a fantastic night, morning, afternoon of delightfully horny shennanigans...to use his word...

Therefore, I may give this audition a miss! Rather ironic really as I was actually begging for auditions some months back!

And France, (He goes to France on business soon and I can't be bothered to think of a different name!)...well, I knew it. The successful, 'I've got everything except...' business man. However, he is definitely the most articulate and dare I say, 'sensible'...of them all. He seems safe yet sexy and intelligent and astute ...
Well travelled and well read...
Married and in a similar situation to me, wanting the same as me. Prepared to give the time and the inconvenience and everything else that is attached to an extra-marital liaison...Must wait 'till he returns in a few days. I can already sense the scales are not balanced, but I must not judge. Not yet.

But I'm not ignoring my instincts this time.

Couple of days at home, then I'm off to the landscape of lake poets; Romantic hillside stanzas and peace and space.

It's late.
Radio here quietly next to me. Some company.

Checked that email address tonight
and another 15 messages, but it's going down. Weird, a site known as 'Melanie's' has my ad and is hosting it still...Do I know Melanie...NO!
Do I know 'Attached but Looking'...NO! There's at least 10 sites now that have me yet I cannot enter the two sites I posted on now as my details have definitely gone/vanished.

Yet, being in demand scarcely ruffles my feathers. Darcy consumed me. My every waking hour. I breathed him in and gave my body and mind.
These slight male distractions are but a rain drop landing on the dry pavement.

She left today.
Bitch two.
I remained dry eyed.
She wept.

What's more, Cycleman appears to have heeded advice and will be taking some time away.
I support him fully. Not judging, just supporting.

Angel is angry. 'Who supported you?'
I know; I know; but I must support him, knowing how dark and how cold the despair can be.
I would never wish that on anyone.
The Young One is managing well. I will guide and help and advise.
Leadership know all and are glad they do.
Apparently, my recent professional actions and behaviour completely 'exonerate' me.
'Exonerate you from what!!!!' Angel demanded...she's a true one in a million.

I heve no energy feeding my hatred; indeed I have no hatred, only numbness and pity.

They are looking towards me for aspiration; leadership; guidance....
Giving it already.
They want it now...already.

Bitch needs someone...one ally moved on. The other now ill. So that leaves me. It's got to work otherwise she will go down. I sense something big is afoot.
She is tearful and fake.
I know she is hard and dangerous and cutting and merciless.
She needs to go.
I feel no pity.
No compassion.

Will do the right thing.
Remembering the words of the wise man.
'Good always prevails.'

Beginning to believe.

Today, I saw a mirror of myself and he's hurting badly.

Loads of things spilling out now at Building of Betrayal.
Accusations.
Counselling..that's a farce...
Lies.
Stalking.
Poetry.
Pestering.
Shadowing.
Texts.
Emails.

And the bitch is not supporting the one she should be...well, nothing new there then!
I've had to involve Leadership team otherwise everyone nests and hovers and swarms above the seething deceitful mess and nothing gets fixed. So I've sent the 'shit' as it were, towards the fan. It would have hit by now and the fallout happens as from now.
Tomorrow may be a quiet day...leadership tactic before any onslaught.

I've decided to buy the leaving present for Bitch Two; wouldn't want to give Dram the satisfaction. She's such an important person in Bitch's life and there she grins contentedly...inane, mundane, manic,dangerous.

I am guiding and supporting the younger one yet I need to remain a little distant as I want to be completely professional and Bitch will interpret this as me steering her towards her demise. Frankly, in this instance, that is absolutely not the case and I will not be labelled in such an unprofessional manner.

I'm working hard and ensuring all deadlines are met.
Catch me if you can!

I'm so tired.
I should be in bed.
It's been a weird day at work.
Found out today that Cycleman who is part of my team is so morose because another member of the team 'ended their relationship,' a fortnight ago. Bearing in mind that Cycleman is almost 15 years her senior...okay, no problem with that, but he's been married for years and has a family and...well...you'd never ever think he would be...unfaithful.
But it does stand to reason now why he has been so 'removed.' I barely recognise him from before...
Apparently he was close to giving everything up for her, and she's been sensible and ended it; but he's now doing a good petulant sulk about it all from time to time...which again I never would expect from him.
It's weird to deal with as it's all there and there's no escaping the fact these two have to work closely together and it's not going to be easy.
However, I need to remind myself that I probably do not know everything and that I will continue to remain professional and supportive and endeavour to remain cohesive with the team.
Bitch is close and friendly and I reciprocate as best I can...I think I'm managing okay actually. If she wishes to stab with invisible knives then so be it as her actions are but a reflection of herself and she will never bring me down.
I feel formidable right now...

Home news:
Budding Vet a little poorly tonight.
Sportacus as vibrant as ever.

Sexy News: turn off now those who are frowning...
I've not played at all since my very physical encounter on Thursday...
He texted me Friday; accused me of 'texting other men...' like I have the time right now... he appeared really needy and he was becoming annoyed with my independent reasoning...
I told him to return from whence he'd came...
There would be no sneaking off on Friday, all dressed up and a hotel but two to go...I gave him his marching orders and I do believe he became more annoyed, which placated me and satisfied me knowing I was not going through any emotional turmoil.
I had arranged for NSA fuck fun and that's what I got; precisely what he did not want it seems.
Therefore silence from him since...the queue in my Inbox waits.
Pick me! Pick me!

This morning, the reassuring and familiar G invades my morning schedule. Close friend of his died since we last spoke. He alludes to our bedtime capers and flatters and flirts. I smile. I talk. 'Goodbye,' I hang up.

It's good to hear from him.
But he's not the answer and he's all over the country and Europe right now too...

I just need an A to Z across the Pennines.

Thinking about the auditionees...waiting, bursting in my Inbox.
There's ...a white van man who likes lay-bys...(and he's rather tall...just for those who want to know!!! 6ft 5)...and boasts that he'll not expect me to 'last long' and I'll beg to see him again...Talk about confident!
Then there's the professional one with the dark hair...(Yep, tall too...6ft 2'). he seems quietly articulate and there is more to him.
Another professional... Director and far too attractive to be on a site...married etc...seems to have everything...
Then there's the one who wants an older woman! Cheers!
Another desert suited and booted candidate...no thanks, not again.
Then an intelligent one; the only one who actually realised the classic novel from which I created my pseudonym..
And there's more, but I just can't be bothered tonight...
I'm so tired.
I should be in bed.
Any offers?

It's been a while since I let you know about Bitch and Bitch Two...etc....so thought I'd give you an update.
Bitch Two leaves on Friday to begin her new job at a different place...a job which involves promotion; a job which involves similar attributes to mine; remember, the job she had, the job she wanted...the space she tried to fill even when I returned...
Good riddance and may she drown in her own poison.
Funny that. She commented the other day about beginning her new post, infront of Angel and I.
'It's going to be so hard having no reputation...'

Never will he reach the mountains he aspires to,
The drama of his backdrop gently lapping amongst shimmering icy pools
With his stilted fluency and elegant phrase.
He watches her from afar,
He has for a while.
Claiming poetry and solace amongst the embittered images of Owen: trenches and pain,
Manifestations of precision and designer satire
Bristling under the cloak of advocate,
Devilishly elusive yet exquisite and refined...

She remains in the shadows
Behind the heavy curtain
Waiting;
Waiting for her phone to ring.

Now it appears I am six other sites from the communication so far. I have deleted my details on the two sites I posted on and ironically cannot gain entry as my details 'have been deleted as requested.'

Please will someone bull doze the Pennines?
 

Therefore it seems we desire to fuck on the same day.
This has happened before, to Floyd Fan and me...the cold dark snowy day of Stockings In The Snow:

Therefore, I still wait, with perhaps a search for the occasional intelligent comfort fuck to appease me...maybe.

As soon as the door opened, my heart shouted at me again, 'It's not going to work and you know it!' Then I felt  it fall down to the very top of my high heels. Should have walked away then but I didn't. I was daring myself; urging myself to do it to step across the boundaries. I'd made an arrangement; wanted it and I should not be jumping to conclusions.

Absence: I'm dealing with an absence of excitement. It's rather strange. I think back to the tumultuous build up and the fizzy popping of desire in the second week of last month...(is that all, it seems an age, an absolute age ago), ...and I am still deeply somewhere else, with someone else, yet I will not back out of tomorrow. It will all be over by this time tomorrow night; I'll either be sitting here writing to appease King Kev who is bursting with excitement to read about my naughtiness, or I'll still be making it home on the motorway...heart racing with the madness of the adrenalin rush.
Don't misunderstand. I do want sex. I do want, I do need, to feel that possessive penetration and to share the pent up need and the release of constrained desire...
But I've been swamped by work and I've barely had time to even squirm when imagining a very rude snapshot of this illicit coupling or just digested a vividly naughty textual message.
We've had a candid chat.
He's definitely more excited than I am and I feel a meandering of searching and starting all afresh with a new and thorough searching of those who asked to be saved in my Inbox very soon.
Yet, I am being unfair. We've both enjoyed the sexy words; he's shown a more gentle side too, yet how is it I know this is not going to rock my world? I don't need him too, let's face it.
I need the raunchy playtime he has promised and that is something I do look forward to.
The heat
The wet
The closeness
The hardness
The filling of a space with sex noise.
I am desperately hoping I don't want to go home after my first orgasm; always a bad sign!

Catch me whilst you can.
I've fallen through the net.

Rather a while ago...like...a year ish...maybe a little more...before the realms of G-inc I think, I met someone...let's call him Mersey...slight accent...who was, well he still is, a lovely bloke. We've not seen each other for a long while, not since early last summer but he's been in touch at times to catch up, to see how I am and to tell me about his new baby...
I'm probably guilty of messing him around a bit actually, as I arranged to meet a couple of times but backed out...
However, he's good to chat with and we have a few career things in common as well as the non-sex..or rare-sex issue with our respective spouses which we've also discussed at length.
That's it.
But...he texted today...first time I've heard from him in ages and I know he's going for a new job and wondered if he'd been successful, but... his wife has found a phone with some of our saucy messages on it from last year!
Then he rings...leaves a voicemail: he's been seeing someone else, BUT his wife now believes the other woman's number is also MINE!!! (This is Mersey's damage limitation I reckon. Best have one woman with two numbers, than two women with a number each, so cheers for that!)
Warning me of any possible death threats etc, he's clearly completely in the poo...
I told him to talk to her ages ago. She actually appears to want less sex than my husband and we once joked they should get together! It's a shame,he was such an eager bed buddy and was literally only warming up after his second orgasm...he's a walking sex machine.
But there was not enough of the 'connection' for me to want him as much in return, hence our platonic relationship which is cool as I rarely manage that or desire that after fucking in the woods...

So be warned: delete your sexy texts!!! Yes, even you...

P.S: Right in the middle of a rare, special text from Floyd Fan....I got a call...did I answer? No. Didn't recognise the number, however I researched the area code...oops.
Note to self: must strengthen lock on rabbit hutch tonight after deleting Army Boss sexy texts.

Tonight he was planning an ambush...'in a wood..'

Double entendres fill my head, yet I know he won't be thinking as fast as I am. Poor thing...Physically, I already sense I'm going to be exhausted and completely ravaged..(which is a good thing, don't get me wrong)...
Mental stimulation, I'll put that on hold...My mind will not be filled with wondrous thoughts present, but wondrous thoughts past...
Floyd fan fills my psyche still and I know, he knows it's game on again...soon...months...soon, but he will enrapture me again across white sheets in the morning streaming sun...

Meanwhile, back to the crude present; dirty texts and fantasy spill out from Army Boss...and I know I want it..but not really with him...beggars can't be choosers and Ive already told all of you, I'm a choosey girl.

This Thursday beckons...and he is agitated and excited in his khaki...
Made the effort this afternoon though...got myself quite turned on...the messages so steamy they were melting the mobile...
And I'm conscious of the mindset;
I'm conscious of the sex need;
I'm conscious of the isolation of mind and heart and this time it's easy.

It's easy because he does not feed my soul;
It's easy because passion is not flowing from words;
It's easy beacuse it's a six hour arrangement...not a six month one..;
It's easy because he does not even know my name.

And it's so hard.
Because it's not him...not yet.

I've still not paid a penny, yet I'm still desperate for an Inbox Coordinator...and I've 'hidden' my ad. (as the service offers...) or, 'Turned myself off' as it also calls it. However, still the messages flood in...and I've lost interest completely! 
Army Boss is in touch and that's fine, but he tells me my ad is still there. Now, this gets me wondering, as the site I posted on appears to be at least another six sites...all with different names...

Oh well...life's what you make it.

Tonight I have had to 'hide' my 'advert'....for my own sanity.
There was a photo, yes...but...not rude. Sexy, discreet...unable to identify...but...a photo...
Tonight...216 messages in my Inbox.
Tonight...desperate for some order, peace, sense...
Therefore, I hid it.

Must pop to the salon...pussy on parade!

Isn't that many a girl's dream?
Mine is jam packed.
It's been a bit difficult to manage and perhaps I need an Inbox Coordinator.

The categories are as follows:

Junk...can't even spell.
Trash..cock pics...how I hate those without even ever sucking them!
Mediocre (unintelligent), bland...
Average (out for what comes along)still can't spell.
Catches the Eye ( I like the eloquence of their words) intelligent; they can spell.

The search begins...but then there is the constant bombardment of ....
xxxx wants to chat,,

Well, sorry dear but I don't want to...need to clear my inbox so bugger off while I try to do so!

And...I've not paid. I've actually made a conscious decision that I will not pay a penny...and wait to see how far I get.

So...can't send replies on one site...talk about money grabbing!!!

On another I can...
And update and exchange info etc....

Oooh I could write a paper on this for my Masters!!!

Couple of numbers.
Couple of addresses.
Yes, only a couple out of well over sixty tonight...be discerning; prioritise.

I wait.
Not going to be holding my breath. Been here before. Yet, I met Darcy on a site like this...and G and a few others....sift out the trash and you find something to recycle.

I'll close my eyes.
I'll pretend it's Floyd Fan...

Pretend.
Pretend.

We know Major Tom's a junkie...