He said that he is 56. I wondered if he dyed his hair, because it was an unnatural shade of brown.
I was wearing a form fitting, short skirt and he noticed me. He sat next to me on a filthy couch and leans in to say, “You have amazing thighs, and I’ve seen a lot of legs…” Read the rest of this entry »
“Oh but, I can’t have my cake and eat it too… but, I am.
You are? Really?
I’m an idiot!
I’m letting you have that fucking cake.
I’m letting you have that cake with ice cream! With fucking chocolate syrup, sprinkles and a fucking cherry… put whip cream on it!
I can’t give you anymore cake.
You know, like, I’m not a cake factory.
People run out of cake!
I don’t have enough cake to give you anymore!
You don’t deserve… my cake.”
March 29, 2012
“There’s a couple of things that I need from Duane Reade.”
He picked a bottle of Johnson and Johnson baby oil off the shelf.
“What’s that for?”
He smirked and cupped his hands around my ear. I could feel his breath. In a smooth, deep voice he whispered, “Your ass.”
November 19, 2012
grande amber brandy
you should have bought astroglide
aged in oak barrels
jelliebeers 