Shaking Thighs

RMPkissessmallofbackPerhaps my next blog will be titled:    This Does not Look like Work

In it I’ll chronicle A Day in the Life of Ret.

I’ll  respond to ads for adventurous jobs with outrageous pay scales and see what happens.

Research and Development

I will be somewhat inconsistent in posting because I will really enjoy the research and the touch and the memory making.  And this will take up my adventure time, and will likely reduce my writing time.

I will  take reams of notes,  though some will be held in my head–  like the way he might hold my head in his hands, and dip into my mouth…oooh….
Sorry, where was I?

Proper Positioning

I’ll juggle a few calendars and will need to color code my address book.   Yellow for blonde men.  Black for men who wear suits. Red for romantic bipolar types.  And Green for outdoorsey- or maybe I can get plaid tabbies — plaid is really in this year.

And there will be no fewer than 17 drafts waiting for finishing touches,  waiting for just the right words to wrap up the experience.  I’ll draw the titles from the most searched terms on WordPress.

(which are? just guess. where can I find out? chime in helpful readers. )

Some of the interviews will be rigorous.  I expect to leave with shaking thighs, mind whirling.  I’d write during the act but it is so distracting to live tweet during. You are such a demanding audience. I guess this is why Vine was created?

I imagine one will be a screamer and that will be the time I forget to bring the ball gag and his neighbors will tut-tut me from every doorway down the long hall as I leave his building- make that sashay down the hallway as I exit the building.  Sashay. Nice word.

Or at some point,  the doorman will be unable to contain his curiosity in the elevator as he escorts me to my car-  to my Porsche! Y es, that’s it!  I imagine the concierge giving me that slow smile of appreciation and then turning away, ever so slightly,  as he presses into my palm the card from Mr. Joseph McNaughty in the penthouse suite.


I’ll schedule an interview with a photographer who likes to pose muscle cars with muscular women.

These photographers though,  knowing they are rarely on the up and up,  will require some thoughtful screening.   For example,  suggestions about taking photos in the industrial part of town at a tool and die factory warehouse must first be visited during daylight hours. Another time suck. Will plan ahead to build in research for photo shoots.

Or I will pause, perhaps pass, when the topic is fetish calendars and the professional smooth talking creative wants to know if I have any aversions to whips or unresolved fears related to claustrophobia.  I said perhaps. I actually have no fear of whips and no claustrophobia. 

Safety, Safe Words, and Such. 

I will turn down a few offers based on gut feel.

I don’t think starring in an amateur or professional pornographic movie is for me. I’d love to the voice over, though.

I have an excellent “safety” I call whenever I go on new adventures.  He loves to make up the secret word.  Last time it was “skirt”.  The time before, “feminist”.  I expect to never need to call my safety to come and pick me up.

It always goes back to good research.

Once I slammed one man’s thumb in the door of my Cadillac, when he came in too close, too fast.   And he didn’t call for his safety.   I relied upon proper look-see etiquette.  Gently apply ice and leave when his words  do not match his voice in my head.   After 227 emails, the voice must reconcile.

(snap back to the present Ret.)

And when writing for the new blog I will try not to use the word “fuck,”

or “cunt,”

or “cock,”

and certainly never, “whore.”

These are actually very safe words. I know this because they have no color coding i.e. Red, Yellow, Green.  That’s how you can tell.

Yes, these very old words, which stand the test of time,  remain some of the most searchable tags and terms in 2014.

But,  being non-traditional,  and a recovering good Catholic school girl all the same,  I will use those words, but sparingly.  I love the freedom to just say them out loud and weave them into pieces, and not worry about having to write them 100 times in neat cursive script under the watchful eye of a nun waving a ruler in my face.  Clearly parochial school with nuns at the helm is more dangerous than on-line dating.

Which brings us to Work and Religion

Grandma always said cursing is a sure sign of a poor vocabulary.

One cannot sit in the front pew with a potty mouth.

And this is why I hang out in the choir loft, with the lyrical angels who wear white panties and why I am keeping my day job.  (Mistress)

She wanted the fairy tale life,  the fairy tale ending, so she wrote her own story,  full of adventure  and lustmaking. Some chapters had men with pens and beautiful hands and some had men with dicks who acted like dinks.   And she turned the latter into toads and the former into wild, sensual gentlemen who couldn’t keep up with her.   And she was satisfied and slept hard and sometimes went to church on Sunday.  

#for Reticent Mental Property. Photo credit to the web.

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