Tea with a Queen

Figure 1. Nope, not this Queen, but still a queen none the less

Well, here is the breakdown of last night's date nite...

so off i trundle (tarted to the 9s and beyond) to Cubana. had on a hott blue v-neck, tight (or rather used to be tight...) blue jeans, black boots, hott belt. straightened harres, make-up on and smelling like sex in an eau-de-toilette.

he arrived a tad late. silly hooker. late never flies well with me, but i let it slide. so after he minced in (yup, he minced, like a tranny in 13inch heels - it wasn't his best start) and sat down, we got to talking. and he is a barrel of laughs! i looked past his flappingness, limp wrists and rather flambouyant language and just enjoyed le company and les cocktailsssss - all of the really strong ones. it's how i roll. i'm hardcore now! we laughed lots, discussed so many things then got kicked out the restaurant cos they wanted to close. so i suggested wine at my house. we trundled home and started on the wine - at 1am ... never a good idea - and, the more drunk i got, the more i looked past his queen of the village-ness and had fun with him. also, the more keen i became on bedding this one! he eventually worked out all the hints and some kissing went down. that's it.

then it was 3am and i decided it was bed time. he stayed over. yup, in my bed - i tried to let my space be invaded, rather unsuccessfully though. but i made him be a good goldfish and keep his panties on. besides, by 3am i was far too tired to actually get involved. anyways, he turns out to be one of those clingy-holdy types. so it did wonders for my lack of sleep having to squirm away to freedom on the precipice of the bed - only to be apprehended by his flailing arm as it wrapped around me merely moments after my successful escape! 6am broke fresh and crisp and i kicked him out into his small tin-can vehicle (yes, i am judging... i hold reserve on vehicular transportation, but little biscuit tins with marie-sized wheels and the body of a roll of tinfoil... come now... a pink tricycle with bells and pictures of unicorns on it is more socially acceptable than one of those tractors). as minced and flapped and twitted (yup, he did a triple whammy and limp wristed, bum waggled and tongue warbled) his way to his car, he looked back with *sigh*, unfortunately, that horrid look of longing and happiness and affection towards me - eugh. it's enough to make one vomit at 6.30am. sadly i think this one is smitten. time to set it free... we'll make better friends, but unfortunately for him, there is only room for one royal womyn in my village, and screw the princess, i'm the queen bitch! Plus, he is:

1. younger than me - fail... (a baby goldfish)
2. a student - fail again...

upon return to my room, i then had to spend a good 15 mins cleaning it and straightening out the linen and pillows and trying to get my space back into it's pristine virginal condition that it was in to start with... i need to get these space issues looked at. i also gave him a strict no-touchies rule last night, so he could only look at all my bedroom paraphenalia and not touch it.

poor little goldfish.

Time to find myself a new one. i'm sure there is a straight-looking wife-beater wearing questionably straight jock out there somewhere....