It continues to be a pain in the ass to reach her. I have to call her and leave her a voicemail because she's paranoid about, like, people knowing where she's at and what she's doing, but she gets to text me. Usually her texts are, "Call me." And I do, and I get her voicemail again. Whenever she finally gets around to calling me, I usually let it go to VM because she doesn't show up as her, even though I call her phone all the time, but "No Caller ID." Would you pick up if you saw that? But I do, because I have learned that it might be her.
We finally connect last/Friday evening while I'm sitting at another secret bar after she texts me this cryptic message: "So are you ready for me come over and do what you said?." I see "No Caller ID" is calling. She says something I couldn't understand because of the noise in the bar. I go, "So, are you able to come tonight at 9:3-" and immediately she said, "I said don't say the time I'm coming over! Someone might hear you!" And I'm shaking my head. This bitch is paranoid, and I don't think she's coming back. But it's too late for me to back out because we committed to this time. Plus, I'm hoping she brushes up against my dick again.
Everybody! She was supposed to come over at 9:30! But she got here at 10:15. First thing she does after she bursts in is complain about getting lost on the way here. Again. And then I let her smoke weed inside the house, a very first, because I'm hoping that her calming down will lead to a better massage and, yes, maybe some pee-pee touching.
The massage was fine. Not like a legitimate one, where a trained professional really is able to unwind knots and get the toxins out of my fascia. But it was OK enough because she stripped down to her tank top and granny underwear. The underwear had polka dots. Inbetween hits from her pipe, she was complaining that she couldn't lean on something sturdy to really did into my muscles. Near the end, when I asked her to run her fingers around my groin (because she doesn't do happy endings), she asked to work my arms. ******a has never done my arms before, and they can be sore because I sit in front of a computer all day. But my arms aren't my legs, or my ass, or my groin, or my dick. (sigh) she really didn't want to please me last night.
Worse yet, she accused me of ... something while she was cleaning up after we got done. That might be why she scooted out really quickly. Not even a hug? And then she was hovering just outside her car, which she parked at the end of the driveway with the front toward the street, for a couple minutes. I don't think she dropped her keys. I think she just stopped and spaced out.
Like I said, the massage was alright. Coconut oil on the skin feels good during a dry winter. But everything else -- the whining, the out-of-nowhere allegations, the fear of a cameraphone being pointed at her, the inability to be present and just, you know, calm for the massage? Add all that to her paranoia and refusal to just be frickin' contacted easily, and you know what? ******a isn't worth it anymore. I'm over and done with this. And her.
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