Scarlet Magazine

By Andrew J. Baran

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K’s Scarlet Blog: The Return of K

Kitty : 08/31/2011 5:13 pm : Models Post

Phew…it’s been a while…but I’ve finally gotten better at keeping my blogs, et cetera, updated on a regular basis.

Haven’t shot with AJB in a while, but I am living downtown now, which at least puts me closer to his studio.  🙂  The next time we shoot, I’m going to be more in shape so I can do more physically challenging poses. P90X, grrr!

Video games…they’re awesome. Currently playing (in order of descending frequency): Alice–Return To Madness, Epic Mickey (love it, except for the freaking camera angles…it’s not nearly adjustable enough…but story-wise, puzzle-wise, it’s all great, and reaches back in time for some really neat Disney mythos), Twilight Princess (yes, I know, it’s been out forever, but I’m trying to get all the side-quests done before the final battle!), Assassin’s Creed II (I need to play more often because I keep forgetting the button combos for a lot of the moves…but historical fiction, in a video game? Hell yes!), and BioShock 2 (Big Daddy is my hero…my fella has one of the little dolls like the one the Little Sister made to look like her Big Daddy…very jealous…!)

On a similar note, board/card games are also awesome. Recently played Chez Geek (from the makers of Munchkin) for the first time; my analysis is inconclusive because the game didn’t last long (my fella got dealt a great hand in the beginning, grrr). Ticket To Ride (although a board game, I generally play it on Xbox) is a particular weakness of mine…it brings out a truly fearsome, competitive side of me…when playing this addictive game of trains, I have been known to curse endlessly at the television, stamp my feet, and (only a few times) toss down my controller just a little too roughly. I just played Talisman last night for the first time at a local gaming store; despite the intimidating size of the board (the guys had added on some of the expansion pieces), it was fairly easy to pick up, and I did pretty well, considering I entered after the game had begun. My character, the Dread Knight, was totally bad-ass, mwahaha! Also, a side-note…I did not feel at ALL conspired against or like the guys were “going easy on” me…I don’t always feel like that when I go to play in this most often all-male environment. So, thanks guys. 🙂

Need to get back to cleaning the new apartment. We’re still in Phase I: cleaning up my room so I have room for a bed. Phase II is figuring out lighting (I’m thinking large stackable glow cubes). Phase III is painting the rooms; I’ve got different parts of the world for each room! Except for T.G.’s room (T.G. is my roommate/co-playwright). Speaking of T.G., stay tuned for our comic, “Ellipses & Parentheses”.

See you all again soon!

 


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K’s Scarlet Blog: It Continues!

Kitty : 04/25/2011 1:34 pm : Models Post

Continuing on from last time…

Currently, the things buzzing around the centre altar are: working again with AJB, my website www.ApocalypticPinups.com and ways to improve it, the burlesque shows I’ve been doing with the Hot Tail Honeys, video
games, a new photo project where I play an ex-IRA assassin, and “Despicable Me”.

Andrew J. Baran is a most talented fellow, and I always (eventually) love working with him. We come up with pretty fantastic ideas when we hang around together. I’m all keyed up about doing more projects with him, including this blog. Woot for the blog…!

My website (or one of several) features photos and a kind of RPG interaction that concentrates on Pinups of an Apocalyptic (or Post-Apocalyptic) variety. There will be photo-books, prints, pins, mugs, fake movie posters, cookbooks, and more! I am hoping that eventually I can reach enough fans that I can have a reason to have a table at comic-cons. Yay for comic-con!! ^_^

The Hot Tail Honeys

So lemme get right to the point...

I have been doing live shows with Pope Katherine I and one of her former Hot Tail Honeys, the delicious Dolce Vita. We performed on December 11th at the Slowdown for the Omaha Rollergirls Black and Blue Ball, as well as at Gator O’Malley’s for Rockabilly Night (which may become a monthly thing!) and at Ravenite for Bollywood Night.

I shall describe December’s show, for it fills me with inspiration, and I’m sure you’ll all love to imagine it! We opened with a group chair dance number set to the incomparable Peggy Lee’s “Hey, Big Spender”, and followed with a solo number each. (Note: I know I’m more detailed in the descriptions of my own dances, but I’m not being egotistical; I never got to see the entirety of anyone else’s act because I was racing around trying to put on my next costume! Ah, the heartpounding, terrifying joys of doing a live show…)

Jerry Junglejuice

You cannot resist the sparkly blazer of Jerry Junglejuice!

Pope's fan dance

Pope's fan dance

Dolce Vita

Love Me Dead

Kathryn Q. Cheshire

The boys at the USO will love this!

Pope started off the solos with a rendition of her classic fan dance, surprising those who knew the dance from years ago with a dramatic change in music (going from Muse’s cover of “Feelin’ Good” to Richard Cheese’s jazzy version of “Down With the Sickness”). Dulce was next in a gorgeous gown fit for the Corpse Bride, stripping to Ludo’s “Love Me Dead”. And number three was little ole me, introduced by Jerry Junglejuice as K.Q. Cheshire (my full name is Kathryn Q. Cheshire, since there are already too many Kittys and Kittens and Kats in the burley world…when I perform with the HTH, I shorten my first name to K.Q., out of respect for Her Holiness). I borrowed the music and the adorable (what I call) malt-shop-Christmas outfit from another classic Hot Tail Honeys dance; my deceptively real-looking giant lollipops gleamed in the spotlights, and my Sailor Moon dumpling pigtails bounced to Christina
Aguillera’s “Candyman” and I sugared and spun and Charlestoned like I was performing at the USO for the boys abroad. I won’t give away the hilariously cute ending; that should encourage you to come see me perform some time!

 

Prof. Luke

The amazing juggling of Prof. Luke!

Professor Luke was our male buffer between Acts I and II. He performed juggling feats until our MC blew the whistle (literally) and called a foul…“What does juggling have to do with the Rollergirls?! If you’re not a girl, and you’re not stripping, you’re off the stage!”…Luke remedied the situation by juggling rollerskate wheels. Act II contained: a Pope covered in balloons (that she still managed to pop after losing her hair-piece/poppin’ pin) to Carmen Miranda’s “Don’t Touch Me Tomatoes”; the darling Dolce dipping and shimmying off her slinky sparkly gown to the sultry sounds of Michael Buble singing “Fever”; and Miss Cheshire telling a tale through dance about a wolfie in little girl’s clothing, going from a mysterious red cloak and cowl, to an innocent white dress with a green’n’gold cincher, to a red-hot feathery bikini, and in the end, sliding into a wolf-like fur coat and prowling on the floor as the Black Squirrels’ “Mr. Big Bad Wolf” came to a howling finish.

Rev

Rev spins it up

“Boylesquer” number two was the most holy Reverend, tuning up his orchestra, but then—prompted by stern glares from Junglejuice—giving the ladies in the audience what they wanted and taking it all off! Well, enough to flush a few cheeks and raise a few heart-rates. He gave a glorious, light-filled staff-spinning performance (no, not THAT staff!) with glow-sticks and LEDs blazing (the venue was not suitable for firestaff, unfortunately), set to a spine-chilling metal/techno version of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue. I get all shivery just thinking about it! In the final Act, Dulce donned her Donna Reed attire, trussing up a tasty cherry’n’whipped cream pie right onstage (which eventually ended up right on HER instead).

Kathryn Q. Cheshire

Chaplain-'stached!

Up next, to the music of “Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing”, was Kathryn Q. Cheshire again (yes, I’ve gone full-on 3rd person here), presenting the best of her vaudevillian strip-humour yet, starting off in manacles, a baggy black-and-white prison stripes jumpsuit, a strangely lumpy belly, and dragging “iron” balls and chains; suddenly, she turns around, pulls out a policeman’s cap and baton, wriggles out of the top half of the jumpsuit—exposing a modern blue cop top—and spins back to the audience, revealing a Charlie-Chaplin-like moustache. With silent-movie-slapstick physicality, she makes her “escape”, only to peel off her P.D. Blue to uncover an even more modern bright orange brassiere, stamped with a prisoner number and bespangled with a few rhinestones. The Cheshire Kat retrieves her balls’n’chains to perform a little “prison poi” (again, no fire allowed, so sad!), then finally, the meeting of two prison eras are removed, and the audience feasts its eyes on the extremely skimpy final layer (if you can call it a “layer”): a black-and-white prison striped thong with strings of silver beads skimming her behind, and a black sequined “ball” pasty with a silver chain tassel adorning each breast. She spun those tassels ‘round and ‘round as she side-stepped off the stage. The final number began with a military-themed Pope stepping gracefully but sinisterly out from behind the curtain, then, in an homage to Lady Gaga, moved into an intense writhing dance set to “Alejandro”. In her final layer of sheer white and “blood” smears, Pope was joined by the entire ensemble and we finished off the show with a bang.

To Shana (our darling stage maid!) Professor Luke, Kelcivious Jones (a.k.a. Jerry Junglejuice), Reverend Steve, Dolce, and Katherine…I love you all and I hunger to do another show with you all soon…  😉

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K’s Scarlet Blog: And So It Begins…

Kitty : 02/22/2011 2:49 pm : Models Post

Alice, Sweetheart

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly...

After a few attempts over the last few years of doing “Daily [Deviations, Comics, Journals, Et Ceteras]”, I once again take a big ol’ stab. This time (hopefully to soon be “THE time”) it is a blog for the online magazine, Scarlet. So, I take a big breath, stretch out my back, and begin.

I imagine this blog will discuss many things, as well as include some things that populated my Xanga ages ago. Generally, I will pour out my creative ridiculousness, whether it pertains to past, current, or imagined projects. Being resurrected from Xanga limbo will be the“ _______’s of the Day”: Word, Picture, Proverb, Quote, Riddle, and more.

First, I direct you to a poem I wrote a while back; its purpose, to give you a glimpse at the rowdy grey matter swimming in my skull… (Sorry for all the crossed out o’s, I’m having some trouble with the HTML.)
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
“The Archives of Thought”
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Just keep going,
Keep untangling,
There are always knots to untie,
Always gaffes to undo,
o
Just keep moving,
Keep arranging,
There are always floors to clean,
Always favours to lay,
o
Tables, chairs, dresser drawers,
Tabletops, chair seats, hidden partitions,
Surround and consume and saturate,
Every corner of the room,
o
And then, in the centre,
A lone desk,
Gargantuan, goliath,
Shrewdly insightful,
o
And spread across the wooden plain,
A plethora of papers,
Loose-leaf, washi,
Papyrus, parchment,
o
Some in notebooks,
Some in tablets,
Filled to each margin and corner,
Filled with scribbles and scratches and sketches,
o
Each sheet circling the eye,
The eye of the hurricane of flurrying thoughts,
Some pages shoved and others delicately set,
Enfolded within leathern winged bindings,
o
Silvery needles snap up and fly,
Swooping through wrapped up bobbins,
Snagging outstretched fingers twined,
Searching for crisp vellum’s edge to sew,
o
There are those pages that are saved,
Those pages that are not lost in buried boxes,
The pages that continue to flutter around the centre alter,
Stitches of thought that patiently wait for their time to appear…
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
More to come. Keep checking back. <grins>
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A Love Letter To You

~J : 04/15/2010 1:50 pm : Models Post

I count myself blessed to know you.

Every time I’m with you, in your presence I feel full, like a cup running over. You fill me to the brim and on my own accord I overflow with compassion, kindness, and gratitude, for you, for me, and for anyone else in our path.

I love you. And I want to know you more.

I love your long golden hair that shimmers in the sunrise as the new day starts and we set out to change the world yet again. Your long golden mane so wild, so tempting, and still so touchable.

The dark brown of your eyes are deep caverns I want to explore. So beautiful, so rich, so dark. They intrigue me and when we talk I can’t help but stare into them like a blazing fire, mesmerized by their mystery that is so profoundly you. These are the window’s to your soul, a soul that longs to be known and I feel I could look into your eyes for a lifetime and still learn something new every day.

Your lips call out to me, so succulent and soft. A pout, a smile, even a pensive look plays with my mind and I want to kiss every expression you own, and feel each one rest on my lips.

Your body, each limb and curve is glorious. It is uniquely you. Your collarbone is a magnificent work of art, sculpted like that of a Michelangelo statue. Your hands and the pads of your fingers are angel feathers sent from heaven to glide over skin and dance with the energy inside of me.

I love you. And I want to know you more.

You are fragile to my touch, like a newborn baby chick. Yet, your body emanates strength in every muscle.

You’re not afraid to stand up for what is right, and fight for it. Yet, I know you long to be held and comforted. I love to hold you. I love to comfort you. And I love to encourage you to stand strong.

I love the way you carry yourself and love yourself in quiet confidence. And then, sometimes in loud confidence like across a room at a party or among friends and even strangers.

You play out the lost art of seduction effortlessly, flawlessly, as if it’s interwoven into your DNA. I watch you in admiration. I admire the way you approach people and talk to them, the way your calm confident demeanor wins hearts and minds for a greater good, not a lesser evil.

I am overjoyed; Overjoyed that I know you intimately; Overjoyed that while others get to experience you momentarily, I get to experience all of you for a lifetime, forever. And because of this I love to gaze upon you out in public as well as in the private settings of our house, our reading room and our bed chamber.

I love you. And I want to know you more.

Your imagination is like a wild fire. You day dream in color and pictures with words and song and set others’ minds ablaze, transporting them to your new world. You make my feet leave the ground and want to fly catching limitless possibilities like fireflies in the night.

Royalty becomes you – a princess or a queen. Debutante and demure, you can be quite socially acceptable. Yet, underneath those respectable looks and gentle graces lies an exotic woman – an Egyptian queen, an Italian lover, a Greek goddess. You’ve learned how to play both parts well. But now all coexist inside you together. They are all you, all at the same time. And that’s what makes you exotic to behold, a rare flower.
I love you. And I want to know you more.

You emanate child-like wonderment. Every moment is full of appreciation and awe. You awaken me out of my adult ego and make me long for simplicity in thought and action.

I am in love with your funny ranting, your quirky moves and goofy antics. I am most fully alive in these moments, when we play like children.

I count myself blessed to call you my friend and have the privilege to know you intimately, to hug you and hold you affectionately, to encourage you and share day dream experiences, to be funny and goofy keeping us youthful and to be in your presence silently reading a good book on a snowy day by the fire, or sunning ourselves on white sand beaches next to turquoise water with a new read.

Yes, I count myself blessed to know you.

~J

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The Shot That Got Away

calliopesroom : 03/04/2010 9:57 pm : Models Post, Photography by, Scarlet Issue One

Legs parted and thoughts of entrancement zipped to the near miss of…what…through these memories only a vision of what could have happened if the hand grazed… sweetness is the taste of what has been thought never to have become…no more guilty remnants, no more feeling of constraint…would it ever be, would it ever want to be, but should it ever be? Nothing to come from it other than…knowing now it was at his fingertips makes the wanted more desirable and yet further distant, now guarded. A fantasy metamorphosed from that moment, brought about by a glance, by the touch that never awarded by itself.

Legs parted and thoughts carried away now build up to a mountain of self pleasure…thinking of that near miss of…what…was needed…begging now of the cold harsh chains…no emotional guilt restrains…dripping of…dripping between lips…what leads to the zipped pointed black heels…slip of the hand, slip of the tongue, stroke of fingertips. To the ground…the wrists are…the cold hard surface is where the warmth surrenders to words of…dripping, kissing, restraining…new strength, bruises of desire from the shot that got away.


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A Visit Part 1

~Samara : 01/04/2010 2:24 pm : Models Post

“I’m an hour away from Michael’s work.” I heard her say on the other end of the line. I told her that she needed to go ahead and call Michael so that they could just drive down together and pick up dinner on the way home. Her visit is one of the reasons I look forward to the holiday season. She has a family nearby and she comes home to see her family and always makes a special trip to be with Michael and I.
I jumped in the shower after I hung up with her. The warm water washing over my skin felt wonderful. My mind wandered as I thought of the wonderful, delicious, playful things we did together. The thought of her last visit made me weak in the knees and made me feel warm all over with anticipation. I lay in the shower and let the water caress my skin as I surrendered to the imagery of the memory of her last visit………
She smelled of jasmine as she gave me a warm excited hug. “It’s wonderful to finally see you again!” I replied, “I am so miserable I hate the cold weather but I am glad and very fortunate that your family lives here so that we can at least see you even if it’s just for the holidays.” We chatted over dinner and caught up. After dinner she changed into her jammies. Michael suggested we rent videos. I told them I didn’t want to go… that it was too cold. It was just an excuse to give them some alone time to reconnect. Not wanting to get her house shoes dirty, she jumped on his back. I saw her nuzzle his neck as he carried her to his truck. The truck didn’t move from the front of our house for an hour…
I spied through the window and watched as all the glass on the truck fogged from the warmth of their breath…
The truck shook as I saw shadows of my friend and my man, lost in a frenzy of their desire to satisfy each other. I felt the warmth between my legs spread throughout my body…I was incredibly horny and turned on. I couldn’t wait until they finished and came back in the house. An hour and a half later they came in with videos in hand. She was still flushed. She smiled and gave me a coy wink as she traded the videos for the glass of wine in my hand. Michael kissed me… he smelled and tasted of her. The taste and smell was intoxicating for me. She told me that she was going to jump in the shower for a minute. When she was done she came downstairs. We watched videos for a while and she said she was tired so I gave her hug goodnight. Michael and I retired in our bedroom and drank wine for while as he told me about what happened in the truck. He asked me if I had watched them, so I told him that I had and how much it turned me on. I suggested that he should “check” on her to see if she needed anything. He complied excitedly and with a boyish anticipation of what was to come.
He came to our bedroom, hand in hand with her. She told me she couldn’t sleep and asked if she could join us. I was excited and invited both of them to join me in the bed, as long as she didn’t mind that I only had panties on. She said she didn’t mind. Michael laid in the middle with only pajama bottoms on; her in her tank top and panties. We drank wine and talked about nothing until we got into some sexual conversation…

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A Visit Part 2

~Samara : 01/04/2010 2:23 pm : Models Post

She confessed that she felt like she did not give good blow jobs and was very insecure because of her lack of experience. I suggested that I should teach her. I pulled the sheets down,  finding Michael hard and almost  bursting…. painfully confined in his Pajama bottoms. I pulled his pajama bottoms off and told her to show me how she  orally pleasures a man. She was hesitant and I think a little shocked but she did as she told. I instructed her in how to please my man… Michael was beyond himself with pleasure and I was in awe of his strength to refrain from finishing. I told Michael that now it was his turn to pleasure her, as I tied her hands with a scarf, to our wrought-iron headboard. She confessed that she had never done this before and so I eased her into it by blindfolding her. I told her to enjoy and just feel. Forget about the outside world and what she had been taught is normal. In this room, there is no judgment, just pleasure in the act of getting in touch with what sexually feels good.

Michael’s head was between her legs as I tied her hands… she was writhing with pleasure and tugging at the headboard as I blind folded her. I pleasured Michael as he was hungrily tasting her and enjoying the moans that his act elicited from her. I ceased for a moment because I could feel that it was getting more and more difficult for him to hold back. I went to her and kissed her. Eagerly her tongue searched for mine. Michael grabbed a handful of my hair and directed my head between my friends thighs. I tasted the musky scent between her legs and I felt normal. It felt so right being with a woman again. Softly I kissed the warm, sweet essence of her,  relishing every moment of the act. She called my name in between moans and Michael filled her mouth with his hardness. He untied her and she eagerly grabbed at him, taking more and more of him in her mouth. He undid her blindfold and instructed her to look at him as she pleasured him. He told her what a wonderful job she was doing. She became more and more confident. Michael could take it no longer, so he pulled us both to the edge of the bed. Side by side we lay, bent on the edge of the bed.  He leaned over and kissed me, then my friend, and he grabbed both of our heads and directed us to kiss each other. He brought out a toy that he had just bought and put it inside her. She moaned and tugged at my lips faster as she was lost in the vibrating pleasure of the toy.  Michael finished me and he leaned over and asked for permission to finish inside her…

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A Visit Part 3

~Samara : 01/04/2010 2:18 pm : Models Post

I nodded as my body convulsed with orgasm. He took the toy out from inside her, then filled her. She took him in, guiding him, and setting the rhythm. Pumping slowly at first… then harder… and harder. I thrilled at the slapping sound of her round bottom against his hips as he drove himself faster and deeper into her. I kissed her as I recovered from the intense orgasm and was now basking in the warm glow…
she was almost there…
I kissed her eagerly… matching the pace of Michael’s stroke. I saw her eyes grow wide and watery… she shook and her body went rigid… she let out a loud moan… a final moan before she was spent. Michael, certain that she was finished, finally felt free to surrender to pleasure and exploded into the inviting warmth inside her. We laid there that night, in the comfort of our friendship and basked in our shared sexual fulfillment. I awoke from the haze of my sweet memory of her previous visit, to the cold water pelting my skin. I heard the bathroom door open and I peered from behind the shower curtain to see Michael, smiling with a glass of wine for me. Our visitor was behind him. I told him I had lost track of time… just thinking. She came and gave me a kiss and she told me that it had been a stressful drive and that she was going to borrow Michael for a while…
As she led Michael out of the bathroom, she looked back and told me to come up when I was ready. I told them to have fun and that I would be up in a little while. I thought to myself just how much I love the holidays and how much I love her visits as I dried myself off.

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You Are The Sky

~J : 12/30/2009 8:46 pm : Models Post

We each have an energy signature,
A unique mix that becomes you, becomes me.
My mind sees my energy in color, and yours,
And paints a picture of ours together.

My energy is a mix of yellow, orange and shades of red.
I radiate yellow happiness, optimism and child-like wonderment.
I can be a warm orange of sensuality, emotional self-expression, creativity, health and vitality.
Then at times under certain circumstances I can be fire red with raw passion, determination and the need for survival.
All are hues of a massive solar power.

I feel your energy.
It is a mix of clear white and blue with hints of purple and green.
There is an ever present clearness of spiritual vibrations and divine inspiration
Coupled with the light translucent blue of freethinking, masculinity, verbal communication and the understanding of possibilities.
You exhibit instances of deep purple, giving off authoritative wisdom, superiority, imagination and intuition.
And your energy is sprinkled with the green of healing, peace, new growth and balance.
All hues of unrestrained space.

I am the artist.
Our energy signatures are the color palette.
In my mind, I paint a masterpiece of this moment,
This interval in time when our bodies are intertwined, when our breaths are syncopated,
When our energy is collectively thriving.

I am the sun, yellow and bright, that lights up the darkness.
You are the sky, clear and blue, expansive and unbounded by time, touching everyone and everything.

Together, we create the sunrise.
The birth of a new day, new visions, new thoughts, new experiences for all whom we touch.

Together we create the sunset.
A mixture of breath-taking oranges, reds, and deep purples as inner emotions dance across the canvas of your sky and disappear into the passions of the night,
Into the blackness of slumber when the sun closes her eyes.
And the sky holds her,
As the stars come out.

~J

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Teapots and Teaspoons

~J : 12/21/2009 4:59 pm : Models Post

I like teapots: red, yellow, big, small, ornate, delicate, all kinds. Why? Unlike my coffee-drinking friends, I prefer tea and all the fun sayings associated with it like tea time, afternoon tea, tea and crumpets and of course the teapot song. I’m sure you’ve heard it: “I’m a little teapot short and stout, here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up then I shout. Just tip me over and pour me out.”

I used to sing this song as a kid complete with choreography. Now as an adult I’ll occasionally hum the little ditty while pouring myself a cup. Lately I’ve been revisiting the lyrics. Is it really about tea and pots? I mean, I could really be a teapot…I’m short (not really stout) and little. I do get steamed up. I do shout when I get that way. And most of the time I want assistance in getting cooled off. And it makes me wonder what the song writer was really thinking when they made this jingle?

Walking around the kitchen I ask myself how the teapot got so lucky to have its own song. What about the coffee maker? The coffee grinder? Do they have songs? What about the smoothie maker? That gadget does some amazing things! Or the toaster oven? You can get hot buns from that appliance! But my mind goes back to tea: tea pots, tea cups, tea bags and teaspoons.

Teaspoons! I think there needs to be a jingle about that utensil. Why? Because I love spooning. As humans we crave closeness, we crave touch. And we need touch from another to survive. In fact, I believe most men and women would choose multiple nights of spooning over one night of steam…if they had to choose.

I believe the spoon is worthy of its own song. No matter its size, be it teaspoon, tablespoon, dinner spoon or serving spoon, it’s too important of a utensil not to have one. And so I made a jingle especially for it: “I’m a little teaspoon, small and petite. I like resting next to another to feel its heat.”

I think I’ll sing this while stirring my tea as a reminder that sometimes sex isn’t everything. And since we use spoons for a variety of purposes feel free to sing this little ditty when the mood strikes you- while baking a cake, whipping up a savory dish, eating dinner…or yes, even while spooning!

~J

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I Want You To Want Me

~J : 12/14/2009 5:27 pm : Models Post

I wonder why I’m such an aggressor when it comes to sex- why it feels like a power play or a power trip? Sexually speaking, it’s been my nature to want to please a guy. And I try so hard to make him happy that I have no idea what makes ME happy. How did this happen? It’s a result from years of trying subtly and not so subtly, to excite my partner. First soft approaches, then hard approaches, then throwing myself at him…looking, yearning, longing for feedback that says, “Yes, you’re hot. You turn me on. I want you.”

All I’ve ever looked for was an affirmation… the affirmation that I am wanted.

So now, when I turn on my sexual drive my autopilot is ‘sexual full-court press’. The goal of a full-court press is always to confuse, intimidate or dominate the opponent. I’ve been told I’m intimidating, so this makes perfect sense. I also realize, even a basketball team doesn’t play full-court press all the time, only when the situation calls for it.

I’ve decided to turn my sexual ‘power’ down a notch, or two, or three. I want to enjoy a touch, a comment, a kiss, without being the aggressor. I want to know that ‘me’ is good enough to turn a man on without bells, without whistles, without forward advances. And I want to sit in that feeling. Learn from it, and rewrite my sexual tendencies so I can enjoy the pleasure, and still please him.

And so, as of late, I’m trying not to turn up the heat even though my sexuality is burning like an amber flame inside me. I’m trying to stay on simmer, learning to enjoy sexual encounters and take in the feedback I receive moment by moment.

Yes, like the song lyrics go, “I want you to want me”, I used to do anything to get it. Not anymore. I’m turning my ‘heat’ down to see who comes to me…to see what kind of man is attracted to my simmering sexuality. I honestly believe I’ll actually get what I’ve been looking for and feel what I’ve been longing to feel all these years.

For those of you women who always go after what you want to get it. I challenge you to try a new approach. No matter how hard it is (and it is hard) turn off all your indicators, sensors, signals, and power plays. Be feminine. Be inviting. Be welcoming. Be nice. Be a pleasure to be around. And see who walks into your life. You never know who’ll approach you when your coils are cooled.

~J

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R.E.S.P.E.C.T

~J : 12/11/2009 1:47 pm : Models Post

You’ve heard it before…the yin and yang of relationships…love and respect. It’s in the Bible. It’s in marriage vows. It makes it’s way into movie one-liners. It seems you can’t have one without the other.

I’ve been told men want respect, and they’re asked to love and cherish the female. Women on the other hand want to be loved, and are asked the opposite…to respect and honor their male companion. That’s how the game’s played.

Intimacy has been on my brain lately. The Couples Company has a good read. Emotional Intimacy is the 6th of 8 Stages of Intimacy…and one that most couples don’t make it too. Why? Because emotional intimacy means accepting the person for who they are- flaws, fears, irrationalities and secrets as well as happiness, dreams and sexuality. It’s about trust and letting someone see us at our best and also at our worst.

The yin-yang of love and respect sits smack dab at the center of emotional intimacy. When asked the question, “Would you prefer a person respects and admires you, or would you prefer that a person listens to your feelings and cherishes you?” how would you respond? Here’s the new ‘twist’ on this age-old topic: Your answer doesn’t relate to sexuality or sexual preference…in other words the male could want to feel loved and the female want respect. The yin and yang is not about gender, it’s about masculine energy and feminine energy.

Wow! My brain lit up like a light bulb, I heard the cha-ching of a cash register in my mind and I could swear I heard my grandmother shout “bingo!” from the clouds. Why? Because I’ve voiced the word ‘respect’ to numerous to count…and the word ‘cherished’… is that anything related to tiny winged creatures that fly around?

Yet again, in the spirit of a balanced union a romantic relationship will only be successful if one person has female energy (love and cherish) and the other has male energy (respect)…yin and yang. This new revelation puts me at a crossroads. I’m asking myself questions like: Is this yet another reason why my last relationship failed, because we both exhibited masculine energy? Is R.E.S.P.E.C.T really what I want? Or, deep down do I want to be heard, loved and cherished? Do I want a man in my life who wants yin or yang…or just ‘tang’?

It sounds like whatever I am my partner needs to be the opposite. And so (sigh) yet again, the majority of fingers are pointing back at me. Today’s lesson: You gotta figure yourself out first so you can match your ‘yin’ to his ‘yang’.

~J

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Play Me A Song

~J : 12/07/2009 2:34 pm : Models Post

There’s a big difference between ‘been a long time’ and ‘never before’.

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard live music.
I’ve never been given a private acoustic guitar concert…until now.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.
I’ve never received pleasure like that night…until now.

He played his guitar and sang to me…lyrics that he wrote. I was mesmerized by his willingness to bare his soul in song and wear his emotions on guitar strings. His confidence was sexy- the way he strummed the guitar and fingered it to produce the right notes. His voice was strong. His hands were strong. And his fingers…they knew what they were doing. They knew they were making something beautiful, something original, something memorable. I was a fan. And I was officially turned on.

The private concert was over. Yet, the encore was even better.
“It’s all about you tonight. I want to pleasure you.” Those were the words he said. And I became his muse or better yet a new instrument his fingers desperately wanted to play, an instrument his fingers wanted to create beautiful noise with.

“I want to taste you. I want to feel you. I want to see you come.” And he was serious. His right hand began playing a number inside my pussy. Multiple fingers, rapid movements- something I usually only feel with a vibrator. And his words included phrases like ‘creamy’, ‘unbelievably sexy’, ‘oh my god you are so wet’, and ‘let it out, let it all out’. I focused on breathing deeper instead of holding my breath in, focused on screaming instead of holding my voice back…and without warning a raging waterfall flowed from me. And the bed was soaked.

“Wow,” he said. “I’m a fan. I’m your biggest fan.”

Whatever he did, it was good. Real good. I needed to know how he did it….because I wanted to feel that again. And then it hit me. I knew what he had done.

“I think I figured out your secret.” I told him. “Rapid strumming guitar fingers. You’re just as good at playing pussy as the guitar…I’m a fan of both.”
“Never made the connection…but that does make sense! Glad to please you both ways!”

Women: Have you ever dated a musician? If not, I highly recommend it. They have the hardware for pleasure…strong, fast fingers.
Men: Think YellowBook…they have the right icon and slogan – “Let your fingers do the walking.” However, I’d change it to “Let your fingers do the walking, then run, then sprint the 100 meter dash!”

~J

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Monique

~Samara : 12/03/2009 3:46 pm : Models Post

A mass of dark curls frames her exotic golden face, her body warm and like silk next to mine. I watch her sleep for a while. Lying there so beautiful, I can’t resist…I slowly kiss her as I playfully stroke her hair..she stirs, stretches, and lazily opens her eyes.  She smiles and lets out a low seductive moan..an invite to be touched, to be kissed, and to be slowly made love to… such as it was when we first fell in love…

I still miss her..I guess you never forget your first love.

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Wing Man

~J : 12/01/2009 4:00 pm : Models Post

I have a friend who plays the sax. He was scheduled to play Friday night at a local bar. I told him I’d show up no matter what. Two hours before I left the house my wing man, or wing wo-man canceled on me. What’s a girl to do? My answer: Go anyway. Yes, go all by yourself.

Dressed in skinny blue jeans, knee-high black boots and a loose gray top I thought I exhibited a sense of ‘approachable fashion’. Boy was I wrong! Let’s see…I got ‘the looks’ that’s for sure. Stared at? Check. Boob bumped on the dance floor? You bet. And there was a single occurrence of a conversation that went something like this..
Him: “You double-fisting?”
Me: “One is water.” (smile, nod and ‘cheers’ gesture enacted)
Him: “Oh, I thought maybe so.”
Me: “Yeah, the bar line was so long…who wants to stand in that for an hour?” (Smile)
He smiled and walked off. What the *#@%!

Before I left I told my defunct wing wo-man this would be the ultimate experiment. Going solo means no one is there to deflect traffic if a guy wants to approach you. But alas, even the singular approach yielded ‘the usual’ result…nada. Are guys just chicken shit? I mean, the sexiest woman in the bar can’t even get a ‘hello’! (Hey, I looked around, that statement was accurate.)

Friends say I need to ‘tone it down’. No matter how much I try I’ve learned that, like peanut butter and jelly, my essence is a complimentary mix of femininity and power. That’s just who I am. Yes, I’ve come to the conclusion I’d rather be single than…settle. I’d rather be single than…redefine who I am for a man.

I’ve been told guys like a woman who knows what she wants…who isn’t submissive, but seductive, sensual, sexy and a shade aggressive. Men, is that true? If so, where are you? Maybe you only come out on the night of a full moon.

~J

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Camero

~J : 11/27/2009 3:35 pm : Models Post

I’ve been hanging around car lots lately. Probably because I’m thinking about getting a new car. Not that the one I have is bad. Heck, it’s even paid off! Yet, I’m starting to think about another car, a different car, instead of the one I have. And how fun it’d be to bring it home and park it in my garage.

I like words. I like to write words. From experience I’ve learned people comprehend better if I compare things….like cars…to get my point across.

A friend and I were talking the other day about my sex life…or lack thereof. Now, don’t get me wrong I’m a highly sexual being. There’s just been a lot of %$#@ in my life that’s made it less than ideal according to my personal standards. To drive the point home he said, “You have the tang of a 20 year old and the street knowledge of an innocent junior high girl.” I didn’t refute him. What I might lack in experience I completely make up for in imagination and desire.

As I walked through the car lot looking at all the new models, various colors, and types I asked myself a question, “If I am a car, what am I?” The answer came to me as clear as the cloudless sky above… I’m a Camero because it’s a car so hot it turns everyone’s heads as it drives by. And I’d be painted baby blue, showcasing a hint of masculine power coupled with the soft pastel colors of femininity.

“And how would I find me – this Camero?” I ask myself. It wouldn’t be found at a dealership, no…a private owner. I’d have to search for it on Cars.com or Craigslist instead. Why? Because I’d be tucked back in someone’s garage, under a tarp, kept all shiny and new. It wouldn’t have seen to many snowy days or sunny days for that matter..only taken for a joy ride now and then. Yes, this 1976 Camero might have been older than what I was looking for but then it definitely had low miles.

And if I took it for a test drive I know what I’d find. A car that would say back to me. “I’ve been waiting all these years to show someone what I can do. I want to have fun. I want to feel the spontaneity of the open road. I want to drive fast! I want to drive slow. And I want the right hands behind the wheel to experience it with.”

~J

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Vices

~J : 11/22/2009 9:08 pm : Models Post

There’s all kinds of vices. For some it’s cigarettes or a well-aged glass of Scotch. For many in my office it’s Diet Mountain Dew. Others can’t make it through the morning without a trip to Starbucks or through dinner without a bottle of wine.

These singular vices don’t really appeal to me. Yet, I do have a vice…as the Pringles tagline quips ‘you can’t eat just one’… I have a tendency to want more of the same thing- like cookies, brownies, ice cream and pumpkin pie. But, it goes way beyond food. Yes, the saying made it’s way into other areas of my life…like throwing myself into whole projects instead of staying committed to just one task or cleaning the whole house when I intended to just clean the toilet. And over and over.

Once the senses (taste, smell, touch) get turned on they go into hyper drive with a laser focus to get every ounce of pleasure and satisfaction they can. This includes my sexuality. With just one thought, just one touch, just one kiss….I want one more, then one more, then one more.

I’ve had a taste. And so tonight my mind’s in a place it can’t escape. A place with lace, a place with leather, a place with seductive stares and sexy one-liners that tantalize my subject until he surrenders to my wills and takes me to bed…or the nearest restroom stall, dark corner or back seat. Whichever is closest. And tomorrow morning, afternoon and night will be the same. Because once I get a taste…I can’t eat just one.

~J

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The Embrace

~J : 11/22/2009 2:55 pm : Models Post

Today, for the first time in my life I cried in the arms of someone who cared.
They weren’t strong arms, or big arms
To give the feeling of protection.
They were my sister’s arms.

No words were exchanged. And none were needed.
Being ‘present’ made all the difference.
Being held.
And feeling her loving energy say, “Let it out. I will sit with you through this. Take your time. I will provide comfort for you.”

I didn’t feel the need to ‘buck up’ and stop my tears,
To finish quickly because she had to ‘get on with her life’,
To dismiss away the pain because she’d want to ‘fix it’,
Or to hold in my frustration, fears and grief because she didn’t know how to absorb the burden of it with me.

For the first time in my life I didn’t have to be strong, even when I was weak..
I could just be…
Weak.

Because someone else was my strength.
Someone else was my comfort.
Someone else knows what happens when time is allowed to stand still
And that during this silence of the moment an embrace of unconditional love is the only remedy for healing a wounded heart.

~J

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Sticky Sweet

~J : 11/20/2009 10:13 pm : Models Post

Drip. Drip. I’ve never liked the honeybear so much as when it’s being squeezed, drizzling sweet nectar over my breasts.

Drip. Drip. I’ve never liked the honeybear so much as when it’s being squeezed, drizzling sweet nectar over my stomach. In patterns down my legs. In lines down to my toes.

I run a finger over my chest, scooping a portion of sticky sweet into my mouth like a birthday girl stealing a swirl of frosting off her cake. Mmmm. Sticky sweet.

Dr. Feelgood isn’t finished. Next…hot fudge. He drizzles abstract art designs on my torso. My nipples stand in attention to the hot fudgy goodness streaked with cool honey…from my collarbone to my anklebones.

Dr. Feelgood isn’t finished. Next…whipped cream. A red can of cream sprays perfectly round flowerets onto my nipples. He draws a line in the valley between my breasts slowly, slowly down to my navel… slowly, slowly down to my clit. The cool whipped topping makes my stomach tighten and my clit and lips…ohh…they contract from the chill.

Dr. Feelgood isn’t finished. He dangles a maraschino cherry above my mouth as the final garnish to his human sundae. I outstretch my tongue playing with the cherry, teasing it, sucking it and finally biting it off.

The chill of the whipped cream is gone. It’s replaced by the warmth of his hot tongue which has licked the cream flowerets from my nipples and is following the sugery path to my clit.

Normally when you tell a guy to ‘eat me’ there’s only one place on his mind. Tonight every inch of my body is being licked, sucked, and tasted…over and over again. Dr. Feelgood loves sticky sweet. My body does too. It just added it’s own cream to the sundae mix.

~J

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The Variety Show

~J : 11/07/2009 10:11 am : Models Post

Men want variety. That’s the bottom line.

For men, variety comes in different packaging. They want big boobs and they want small boobs too. They want round butts and perky butts too. They want blonde. They want brunette. They want Caucasian. They want Asian. They just want it all. If their sex life was a box of chocolates, they’d take the assortment package…because each one tastes different.

Women agree variety is the spice of life. We want variety too. At least this woman does. And that’s the bottom line.

For women, variety comes in different environments. To illustrate, here’s a “Weekly Sex Recipe” sampling:

  • Monday: Sensual massages via candlelight. We both receive happy endings. (A great way to get back into the work week.)
  • Tuesday: Text sex over lunch. Note: Park your car in a secluded area  so you can scream and moan up to deafening octaves.
  • Wednesday: Lunch sex on ‘hump day’ to celebrate the coming weekend.
  • Thursday: Morning workout sex. This can be done many ways, 1. At the gym in the bathroom, 2. Post-gym when we’re still hot and sweaty, 3. In the shower washing off the sweat if you don’t like other people’s sweat (OPS).
  • Friday: Commando dinner date. You finger me under the table during the dessert course. We create our ‘final course’ in the parking lot…steaming up the car windows.
  • Saturday: Dress up as a leather temptress then go out and do an ‘every day activity’. Use the night to seduce  you, ending with a random location.
  • Sunday: Breakfast in bed. I eat the pancakes. You eat me. We both use maple syrup.

Yes, if my sex life was a box of chocolates, all it’d contain is a map. A map to each milk chocolate caramel square that’s  strategically placed in provocative locations…the same kind of gooey goodness yet devoured in different settings.

~J

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The Building

~J : 11/06/2009 6:49 pm : Models Post

It was brick on the outside and wood, burnt amber colored wood lining the floors and walls, on the inside. Old, yet so pristene…as if you knew it had been taken care of by a trusted soul.

The space was modern. The colors calm, yet…with a sense of security, a sense of commitment, a sense of authority that was not confrontational, but inviting.

And the brick walls. How they added character. And the flowing drapes, how they added subtle waves of gentle energy to the room. The shadows that riqochet off the semi-gloss red toned bricks were inviting…inviting me to stay, to linger, to touch the walls, to run my hand over each one feeling the texture, soaking in their knowledge of past days and expectant futures.

And it made me want…made me want to create my own story that the walls would have to keep secret…my own story of seduction between the satiny curtains as the strong brick walls stood…watching.

~J

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The Rub

~J : 11/05/2009 6:01 pm : Models Post

Oh how it feels to be rubbed down.  Scented oil. Slippery hands. Massaged muscles. Pure bliss.

How come I’ve never fully realized how great it feels to have a persons hands on my body working through the tissues, the muscle, in waves that push the energy from one area of my body to the next.

The feeling IS so relaxing. And the scent of oil…it lingers on my body so I can remember the feeling of those hands all day long.

Tension. Here it comes again. I think I’m ready for ‘rub down round 2’.

~J

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