Prettyintelligentprincess

He has spoken to me today...again.
We laughed.
Again. He wants the same as I do.
He calls too late in the morning..

I run late.

He is delicate and yet strong.

The woman in me wants him.

3 days until I stand free.
3 days until my salary drops.
3 days until I feel like a proper mum again.

3 days she has to deal with it.

3 days.

Just 3.
3

However, I must not jump too deep or assume too much.

He may be what I need right now...and someone close too; close by a county...a short motorway; the same regional news.

Yet, the music is still in my head and the one who is so far away still plays it; dipping in and out of the hollow shadows of my bones he remains in tune, keeps the rhythm, languishes in the lyrics...

Jones.
Such an ordinary name, such an extraordinary man.

We will grab the moment and enjoy.

He is able to do that.

Tonight:
I remember my time on Troisieme Etage.

I settle and feel warm... enveloped in attentive and intelligent words.

I remember Darcy and think of him...never have I felt this close to a Darcy type ..and part of that frightens me and I feel vulnerable.

I do not want Boy in Blue any more.

I do not want to meet Mr Eager. I have no desire to meet a man who has just fixed his clutch. I cancelled.

I have deleted my profile on the Trash site.

I have hidden (as I could not find the delete bit!) my profile on the 'free for women but extortionate for men' site.

Today:
We talked for the first time.

We had a lovely giggle.

I sent him my orgasm...(Completely mad...but I am a little...)

Again, we talked on the way home.

To use another's phrase...unless I'm very much mistaken, he is 'the one.'

I have made contact with someone who holds my interest...and I believe I may have more to tell...

Eventually.

'Great'

The word glimmered into view.

'How about Paris?'

It is really going to happen, Jones and myself...

Paris? Well, wonderful. However, some time with him and some peace and some intimate champagne moments will be wonderful anyway; I won't need Paris to feel like that, yet he's making a lovely gesture and that is why I will always respect him.

That is why I still feel like some shy girl with him.
That is why my heart misses a beat when I hear from him.
That is why I know I can be utterly honest with him.

Believe me, there are few who can do that.

I was saddened to read this last week. I love Sylvia's writing, poetry and prose; I studied her for my dissertation at University...I have taught her work and still do. She ended her life whilst Nicholas and his little sister were upstairs.
He has now ended his.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article5956380.ece

Red and beautiful shoes.

Black suit.

For three whole hours I sat as my warmth seeped slowly

Knickerless.

I never cross my legs.

I rest them gently open as I placate the parents of little plurals.

Delicious.

Oh..how wonderful...to be so experienced...and yet so UNaccountable.
I can't wait.
Yet it is with delight I attend a 'Leadership Conference' this weekend...not far away but with members, senior members from The Building...from tomorrow...we drive, Angel and I for a mere 40 minutes...

Some relief, non sexual....(although I know I have masturbated there at least twice), when there was a time before The Bitch period.

Incidently, she remarked how I need not attend...'No point'...(regarding my relinquishment).

Attend I will.
Enjoy my bed (one of TWO doubles) I will....

What a waste though...

A single and quiet night.
Peaceful.

Huge spaces...huge reflections...

Well tonight my inbox overfloweth with good quality intelligent and apparently 'reasonably non-weird men.'

Only local will be considered.

From another, less dignified site, there is Mr Eager. Younger than me, yet just as keen. But so uncomplicated, fresh, honest...and very filthy...
No pressure, no hang ups..no heavy intensity...

I will play the field until a certain week in May when I will arrange a journey and a beautiful day and night with Jones. He is not to be rushed; he is to be savoured and enjoyed and respected.

Afterall, I will expect champagne and I know that dinner will be a most romantic affair.

He claims not to be a poet.
His words entwine and envelope me.

He calms and soothes when I feel anger.
He reassures when I completely give up.

The poet who speaks sense.
The poet who never suffers fools.

His patience and belief
In me

Is incredible.

I feel I do not deserve this steadfast man.

Mr Policeman...shall we call him.
Blue...more like.

Depressed again and wants to shut off. Just for tonight. (Perhaps he knows Darcy!)

I am sick and tired of this.

'Please may I have a lovely sexy man who can fulfill my needs with no complications?' she asks quietly.

That is all.

And...Scotguy...weirdo! Absolutely. Completely. Utterly.

I must be more careful.

Careful with name, location, job, desires.

I need to gravitate to the less exciting profiles perhaps.

I need a shopping trip for some more toys perhaps.

He texted last night.
Four minutes after midnight.
Darcy.
He asked me not to text him as he is 'keen' on her.
Putting this in perspective:
He asked me to tell him about my results, so I did.
He asked me to tell him I was 'safe' before and after my initial encounter with Blue, so I did.
He wanted dates of my free time only four weeks ago, so I sent them.
He told me of his ramble home with memories of my heels through churchyards as we laughed on the phone.

Never have I bombarded him with texts...
In fact one or two ...max...over a week is the rate.

Angry and hot tears later, I sent him a reply that he judged me too harshly.

Why does he still ensnare me?
I have not jeapordised him in any way.
I am angry. Hurt.

Fuck.
Just fuck right off.
You bloody self-flattering bastard.
Fuck off.
I remember too well the scent, the feeling, the texture and height of gates and cold air of Soho and Bloomsbury. The languid tactile moments in the Reading Room, under the pale blue dome and the sauntering amongst excited crowds at the British Museum.
Montague Street.
Standing on the corner, kissing in the rain.

Well yes,I do hope it works out, but please, don't tell me that my texts will be inexplicable and uncomfortable. You have fucked her for less than four weeks; has she access to everything already?

I know the reason; you told me; you agreed.
You need to move away, remove yourself from me.
I have no idea why I am such a catalyst for you.
No idea at all.

Waking up to yellow flowers and yellow bows, yellow handmade cards and excited voices.
Then the packing of the picnic and the constant chatter...for over fifteen miles...
Walking and running. Grumbling and skipping, between the steep valley of trees alongside the river.
Salmon ladders, weirs and tumbles of water; fresh and crisp and clear.
Eating cheese sandwiches and chocolate fairtrade biscuits upon the hill, drinking juice and hot sweet coffee, we looked and listened to the narrowing water.
The long walk back, more sedate and less fraught.

To the few passers by, a normal happy family, even with the family pet dog.

They don't know I will have dinner this week with Scotboy, followed by some rather erotic promises.
They don't know I sent my boobs to Jones today...
Or my seams to Blue last night...
They don't know I have aroused myself to orgasm four times in the last 24 hours...

They don't know the sensibly dressed brunette with the sensible looking husband and the beautiful children skipping over the marshy and rocky ground pointing at the pheasants and sheep and lambs...is a sex-fuelled adulteress, wanting more, seeking more and restless within her own lack of esteem.

Soon I relinquish at the building.....

Soon I relinquish the flesh fishnets and peachy basque to Boy in Blue.

Soon, I sit for three hours at the Building with no underwear on

Soon...

I will be drenching his sheets.

Soon I will be intricately wrapped by Jones...a while away..but soon in the grand scheme of things.

Test results are clear.
Phew.
Nothing to worry about and I feel elated.

I must endeavour to have some celebratory sex.

Soon.

Thank you for the messages...at last, my world is not so harsh.

Well could I?

Ms Sleek told me how she knew who I was on a certain saucy site.
'I immediately recognised your writing style,' she said.

Cool...I smiled. I could not re invent myself with words...I would appear the same, eventually.

Even if I disappeared from here, then reappeared...in a different guise, you would find me.

I know you would.
Wouldn't you?

Earlier today, my phone buzzed.
'Make me smile'

The Director...is back wanting to sow seeds in fresh furrows as his sap rises in Spring. I have answered. If he wants me, he will find a way as his county is only a short motorway distance away. I will not appear undignified, vulger....I will hover around the flame and then we will see.

Then later, lovely and intimate and fun from Jones. Beautifully frisky and I will feel his magic when his fingers and lips play me.

And, I settled my differences with Boy in Blue...and we talked and he knows how I need communication if he claims to desire me so...I feel better for telling him I feel and for now...that will do.

Jones still plays the harp inside my head.

FF is murmuring the memories.

I still wait, just in the wings for the orchestra when they accompany the Tower Crane Driver.

I need that drowning feeling.
I need to let go.

I feel repulsed by old men who lock their daughters away for years and rape them.

I feel deeply saddened about the death of a young man in a far off place....whom I helped to nurture before he joined up: how many more will die? He is now the third and it's really making me angry. His young body was buried last week. What a waste. When is someone actually going to DO something about this perpetual death and destruction?

I feel annoyed with Boy in Blue as he is too silent and I always have to make the first move: I don't want to...I want someone who will make the first move with me for fuck's sake. He has OCD and depression issues ...which let's face it should not affect things at all...he is the same person after all...yet...I need a lover who bloody WANTS and DESIRES me.

I feel frustrated with the Jones thing. I know...even without meeting him, he is going to placate, fulfill, exhilarate and soothe...yet I feel so confined and entrapped. I want him. With me. Alone and in a peaceful place where we can create our own noise. The prison of marriage and cage of motherhood is making me wait...and wait and wait...and I refuse to despair. Geographically, he is so far away; spiritually, a breath away.

I feel tenderness and satisfaction with a memory, almost a year old and well documented here. Troiseme etage is something I treasure...always.

I feel a twitching desire to let unknown sex searchers invade my confinement. Mr Finance. Mr Car and Mr Engineer all want to be embedded deeply inside me...sometime soon...yet, no one..no one has bowled me over. I may just pretend to fall.

I feel jealous...that Darcy is seeking and finding happiness within his Bohemian suburb of the old slave port...his communication a little glib and so bloody happy...it makes me scream.

I feel a little fear...as I still wait for some results. Not told you about this. Just a tiny tiny blemish..It was solved last time and I kept that secret...but it's resurfaced and I wait. So small, not even Boy in Blue noticed...

I adore all my female curves and I pray my bra remains full.

She said, 'I have the most wonderfully achy legs today,'

She smiled.

She is indeed a lucky girl and I could feel her ache too.

Delicious.

I am here...again..at home! Connected again and still I have no idea why I could not reach you all over this last weekend.

I wanted to write and write..and now I feel strangely empty and the urgency has passed. Yet, a little news:

Receiving my replacement credit card has now become a matter of urgency as I appear to have almost 300 messages in my inbox on an adulterous site which I cannot reply to as I need to sign up...properly! My profile appears to have triggered the responses...although it is sad that so many cannot perceive beautiful art and assume I actually posed like that!

(There even appears to be some ladies interested!)

On the other site, the one where I don't have to pay, I have finally had a glimmer of intelligent hope, but he lives absolutely miles away and therefore it is with trepidation that I step.

Boy in Blue is still around, although he is a deeply silent and rather introvert character at times; we do have fun whilst together, although his communication skills when I am fully clothed are not as eloquent or as articulate as I would like them to be.

Jones and I have a comfortable banter and the silence is even comfortable as we just pick up where we left off without the need to impress or intimidate; we fit together without the pressure, yet I know the anticipation is there and we will continue to feed it. He does excite me.

Finally, just to let you share some of my desire, I've recently been introduced to Ms Sleek.
And yes.
I damn well would.

I have had a little problem in that I cannot access BCUK at home!!!!

Everything else...yep, no problem....

However, from The Building I can access....Now, that is rather weird... I need to write so much, you have no idea!

I will try. Later then.

I want him.
Pure and simple.
I want to feel his mind.
I want to share his laugh.
I want to hear his voice as he matches the dance I do

In the bed we will share.

I want to feel him inside me after undressing me and looking at me.

And I will have him you know...

You know I will.

' I am not looking for a goddess,' he said.

' I know you will be beautiful in bed with me, ' she said.

'I know....'she said.

'I know,'

' Same, same and same,' he said.

I could not find my size this weekend...amongst the Fred and Florence range at my local Tesco....

Except one single garment.
Black, deep cup with a lacy trim, and a gentle red embroidered seam.
I grabbed it...throwing it on top of the sliced white loaves...much to the wonder of a quiet man standing close by waiting for his wife to return from the changing rooms.
Oh and shorties to match! Excellent. (Never a problem to buy)

Why are 42DD so hard to find at such a convenient place...
I have no time to disppear into the lingerie boutiques in town...and even when I do...I am surrounded by tiny 34 to 36 b cups!!!!

Perhaps I need surgery....

Jane came out at Uni.
I had to send away more than one boyfriend who had travelled miles to see her.
She always admired that photo...the one of us leaning back together on her bed in the Halls of Residence.

She lived in the same house as me the following year where I was part of the comfort she needed as relationship after relationship fell apart.
Pilots.
Teachers.

And it was not until a year after that ...my final night in that town before everyone moved on and I remained...that she invited me into her bed.

She was the experienced one as far as I was concerned...she had rather a tough reputation and her ex girlfriend was not someone you would ever dare to cross! The size and stature of her was scary for a start!
Yet, Jane let me take the lead as I manipulated, tasted and sunk deeply into her.
I was the one on top.
The one in control.
The one who made her cry out.

I could not sleep after our intimacy and left the room.
I left the house and walked the darkened streets...

I never saw her again,
until my wedding...five years later.

She now dabbles with men whilst living with her woman.

I dabble with men too.

One night I did.
And she was very slim and blonde and had shared my bottle of whiskey.
She was my best friend....way back then.
We shared tears and kisses and her boyfriend (after he'd watched a while).

Her mouth kissed my lips and I clutched her hair.

We played until the morning light began to glimmer into the darkness.

They fell asleep, either side of me....

Waking some hours later,
I disentangled myself and slipped downstairs into my own room.
Sleeping until midday, she came to wake me; we remained the closest of friends always.

'You don't sound the way you text.'

Discuss.

We talked this evening as he loitered and waited at some far off airport; soothing voices in the background.

Speaking quickly with a firm directness sharpens the senses.
My senses were indeed sharpened.

Asking for him to slow down his words...so I could reflect and absorb and listen before responding....perhaps that was the Merlot.

'When will I see you...?'

When.

When it is safe for me.
And I need that safety establishing soon.
I want to be enveloped and entwined in thought and in body.Secluded in peaceful pleasure.

He will not let me wait behind the curtain. He will take my hand and lead me to the deep bath of bubbles.

I am smiling. In fact I can't stop smiling! The number of compliments at The Building recently regarding my appearance, my skin and complexion, my glossy hair, my demeanour in general are just lovely and very kind, yet I know it is because my colleagues believe it is due to imminent relinquishing of some responsibility....

That may be.

However, I know it is because I am either looking forward to fabulous sex, or, I am recovering from fabulous sex!

Today, it was the case of the latter.

Again I sit here, aching, deliciously.
Again, I have smellt the scent of the sex still clinging to the crevices of my body after showers; after new lingerie....

My mouth feels bruised. (No prizes for guessing)

My shoulders and my arms ache.

Thighs and bottom definitely nursing some invisible bruises....

I feel, even now, like I am oozing a sexual glow.

I adore what he does to me.
I adore how he makes me feel.
I adore his adoration of my frankness.

I need to tell you more...but friends only I'm afraid!

I painted my nails

red!
Unusual for me.
Highly stressed. (But not long now...until relinquishment kicks in....) Bitch at The Building exerting control....as per.
I adore spontaneity.Clearly she needs to look that up on the internet.

I spoke to Boy In Blue tonight and he placated and listened.

He told me to leave my girlie area as he would make it smooth tomorow!!! New Mach 3 and sensitive shaving cream...already ready...and waiting....

He adores my business attire and my seamed stockings....but wants me over his knee to give me the gorgeous spanking I crave.

In my heels and suit...
oh god...

I cannot wait!

The neighbours will be in. He has already told me that gagging is definitely the state of play.

Dreams of 'on-tap' sex.

Would that be true, I would be a very smiley woman!

Having this fun is delicious and very fulfilling.

But...I want more...

Dripping slowly, the tap may soon stop; the flow may become dry.

Stepping into the warmth of sensual bubbles, angling between the shiney arcs; slipping under the ovals and circles of warm scent; the yells and screams of water; a soapy topping; a popping cocoon.

Enveloping and drinking me;
Drinking me in.

Until I am parched and my body is drowning

In the depths.

Intrepid explorers are tantalisingly hard to reach; slippery upon the flesh when bubbles are the only barrier.

I would like that; a beautiful long warm bubble bath.

But, I had to make do with my coffee and my long echoing corridor...and mundane mundaneness!!!

I wonder if I'll ever meet Jones; we have been dancing around our clear cut edges for some time now and the allure is increasing.

I desire him.

I desire the sensitive, physical, evocative as well as the arched humour and patterns of wit.
But all in good time.

Last night he dreamed of me...he said.

Does he dream often?

He's a dirty boy, Boy in Blue; just what I need.
He told me what he will do to me in my seamed black JP hold ups on Thursday evening...
He told me the mirror will be watching even more.

I expect to get carpet burns on my knees and elbows...again.
He wants to see all of the exposed and engorged me; when I can't bear it; he wants to touch and play without manners; when I can't bear it.

He told me to lift my nightdress this evening and to follow the rules....and the sexy dirty words fell from the phone...all the way inside my warm sex-obssesed head.

Thursday is so far away.

Meanwhile, one will have to play...and play...and play

Drunken messages to Darcy last night; foolishly foolish female and yet I feel little care and wish to avoid his pity.

Boy in Blue was being a good son and was with his mother. I've been careful to remain fairly quiet today, knowing we are a 'temporary' arrangement and wishing to keep it that way. I am looking forward to Thursday very much and will be deliciously squirming inside my lacy stocking tops and heels ALL day with impatience. Duties at The Building mean a late finish...
It's less than a five minute drive and I shall have to watch my speed.

I did spend a refreshing texting time with Jones earlier today though. Although travelling, he made a bright interlude and we bantered across the satellites discussing cities and champagne, acknowledging my ignorance of the latter, he may become my teacher!
Someday.

I will wear stockings and high heels.
I will go down on my knees, infront of his mirror.
I will have over five orgasms in 3 hours, (he counts them...I lose count rather spectacularly)
I will squirm and moan as he spanks me.
I will shout as he spanks me some more.
I will smile as he peels away my underwear...and I feel it unsticking.
I will beg him to not stop.
I will gag on him.
I will take all of him.
I will so...so enjoy him...
I will lick him.
I will ache from him.
I will have secret bruises from him.

I will wish there was more beautiful intelligence within him...

I will be admired by him.
I will be flattered by him.

I will be more than him.
I will.
I am.
Always.

And still I will the search on.