The Appetizer

15 Oct

He sent me instructions in a text ~ i was to go to a particular street, heading north toward a particular landmark, park, and walk til i came to the first statue.


Now youall know i’m directionally challenged, so i start off a little anxious, and get there way too early.  Then i worry, a little obsessively, about whether or not the statue that is practically right in front of where i am parked is the right one.

Isn’t that too easy?  Is it a trick?

So i drive further up, but i don’t see another statue for blocks.  

Ok, this must be it.

Still 15 minutes early, i text ‘Nilla while i’m waiting ~ ‘Nilla who is not so helpful as you might think, but instead is greatly amused by my uncertainty.

She wants to know if it’s a male statue, apparently thinking about some kind of forced blow job on an inanimate object.   {Would that be fair?  It’s not like the statue can give consent, after all…}

Fortunately, the statue is female so that’s not going to be a factor.

Then it is just a minute or two before time, so i put away the phone, and wait patiently, wanting to be in the right frame of mind when He arrives…

His car pulls up to the curb in front of me ~ i open the door and slide in, not sure what to expect.  He nods, and pulls away from the curb.

“Good girl,” He says,  “We only have an hour; let’s go for a ride.”

5 Responses to “The Appetizer”

  1. Sam October 15, 2011 at 10:03 pm #

    I like the trade craft here. are you in training to join the SBPP?


    • aisha October 16, 2011 at 5:33 am #

      Dear Sam,

      Um, no.


      The only thing “in training” yesterday was my poor nipples… which are still “tender.”


  2. sin October 15, 2011 at 10:09 pm #

    Cute, you are going to all wind up in Nepal together or something.

    • aisha October 16, 2011 at 5:33 am #

      Dear Sin,

      I wouldn’t go to Nepal unless you were coming too. So there.


      • sin October 16, 2011 at 8:11 am #

        Ha – that makes me smile. At the idea you’d want to go with me. And the “So there”.

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