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Callin' it like I'm seeing it
Callin' it like I'm seeing it
After a brief work-induced hiatus, I'm back.
I just realized that the topic of a recent post apparently took some offense to my comments about her confidence and open demeanor.
I say this because suddenly her profile became 'no longer available.'
C'mon now, I'm not that naive. That's the PC way to say: 'You've been blocked buddy!' No offense was meant but if she mis-took my brash and open comments about her attitude the wrong way... well then she misunderstood my intent.
C'est la vie, n'est ce pas? Or however it's spelled. I'm too tired to do a French spell check.
On to bigger and brighter things.
Sensuality is the most oft sought after and spoken about subject here so I figure I'll indulge you not in one of my fantacies, but a fond memory from an LTR I had.
She was a lovely lass from old money. By that I mean the 80 year old family business was prospering so well, she had a job with a nice title but it was only on paper.
Her 'income' came from being listed on the books as "Vice President of Community Relations." A role cooked up by her overbearing, obnoxiously rich father as a way to keep her out of his hair and out of the real business that went on within the family and the company.
A beautiful woman she was, but hardly a princess by any stretch of the imagination. Her wild antics during her college days cost daddy plenty of money to keep her off the court blotters and out of the headlines.
How we came to meet was through a mutual friend, Kris. Kris called me up one day and told me a friend of hers needed help moving some furniture about her apartment. "She's a single mom with one daughter and she needs help moving heavy furniture", Kris told me on the phone. Being the willing soul, I said that I would gladly help and set out that afternoon.
When I arrived at her door a strikingly, beautiful young girl answered the door and I suddenly realized I never asked Kris anything about the person I volunteered to help so I instantly assumed this must be the daughter who answered the door.
"Hi," I said, "Is your mom at home? I'm here to help move some furniture."
Her face suddenly blushed a deep crimson as she stepped back from the door to invite me in and shyly told me, "I'm the mom you're here to help. Kris must have forgotten to tell you everything about me."
Indeed Kris had, I thought as I stepped inside, secretly thanking her over and over in my mind.
Caren was a inch or so taller than me and a lot younger looking than her age belied. We stood for what felt like the longest time just inside her front door smiling at each other and not saying anything, when I realized what I had been originally sent there to do.
"So... I guess I had better get started moving the furniture," I said, shaking myself out of my reverie and stepping in far enough so she could close the door behind me.