Tangled Rose

By Rose Maru

There's no beating around the bush in this latest collection of Rose Maru's battle with HSDD (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder... or HSDS: Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder... or whatever the heck name-of-the-moment they want to give the condition where you have a hole in your brain where the sexy-stuff lives) and her unfortunate lack of TMI (Too Much Information) and any other embarrassing abbreviation that she can somehow misconstrue and accidentally end up at a party that only sounded like it had something to do with See F'n Dem (Special hint: don't randomly accept the proffered sausage or cocktail weenie without watching what's about to be put in the palm of your hand.)
Almost two dozen short stories, truthful recollections, barely-lies, bonus bits, and tall tales - all with sordid, just-as-often-as-not-more-extensive truth and consequences admission - jam packed between the virtual covers of what might possibly be the best lay you'll have this year! (Thanks Covid for making it so difficult for everyone to make live-and-in-person connections. Nothing like a *really* low bar to be set so I can feel successful.)
Somewhere between the introduction and conclusion, I managed to go from tangled to mangled to done repeatedly to places previously unknown and freedoms I'm barely ready to start taking liberty to enjoy... sometimes twice.
Although this may be the turning point collection that finally sets me free (or at least frees me from guilt and the associated fear that maybe I shouldn't be so loose with my attire, naughty pictures, and not just letting myself be exposed in a window... instead actively helping my public deflowering so I can watch for the double-take from the construction worker's next door when they catch sight of my sordid display.
Yes, getting untangled sets me up for some wild rides as I work out what it means to be a menopausal train wreck in the best possible way.
- -
Seriously? You're not convinced yet? Damn you're a tough nut to crack (unzip and let's see. What? Seriously... I'm waiting. Just unzip, dammit! Don't make me go in there after them! If I have to fish them out, I swear I am not gonna put them back. {zzzip} Oh, uh oops? Sorry. Couldn't tell from this side of the computer screen you didn't have testes. Cute idea down there, though. Mine I have shaved completely bare. Wax? No! Not into pain. Uh, hey, is this stupid thing still on 'Public' setting? Sorr
- -

As I wasn't saying: So you're still not convinced this collection is gonna float your boat? Topics in here cover everything from couple relationships, husband and wife disagreements, weird parties, inappropriate interactions with parents and family, orgasms and how they can change over time, reflections on life's choices, menopause and aging with memory dysfunction, pondering on why you can't discuss the latest pornography you've been watching with friends and acquaintances, disastrous dreams, clitoral mayhem, plus a little light BDSM. Then there's the stuff you can't discuss out in public.
If you can't find something in here to make you smile, grimace, get hard or wet (or both), or at least snicker, "Ha! At least I'm not her!" I'd claim you're more messed up than me. In which case, *please* write me? Lord knows I need someone to look down upon. I mean, commiserate with! (And commiserating is not the same thing as when you do that weird squirt / female ejaculation thing followed by urine - which, honest, I truly believe that's where all the confusion lies, because the jerk with his finger up inside your vagina doesn't know when to stop and just keeps on stimulating the heck out of your G-spot and internal clitoral limbs until everything comes undone down there and you get a spray of urine. I mean, if I were to know anything about that.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Maru
• Release date: Dec 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005107642

Rose Maru

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.

Book preview

:Linear Table of Contents:

(how the Author's brain ebbs and flows)

- Subject Based TOC - Alphabetical TOC - Temporal TOC -

Tangled Rose Introduction

Construction Deduction

Terrible Tennis Timing

Bound to be Wrong (maybe put it here?)*1

Conversation Encounters of the Fourth Kind (here or before Bound)*1

Orgasmic Multiverse

Bad Sex Is...

See-F'n-Dem Party

Unemployed

Ew! Happy Ew Year

Ew Yodel #2 - Happy GD B-Day

Drain the Swamp

Titles I Never Want to Write

April Fool Secret Agent

Size-Queen Redemption

Happy Trails

Push Me, Pull Me, Do Me

Drunk Dialing

12 Days of Xmas

Weird Ass, Freaky Pussy Shit

Memories

Primed and Pruned, Untangled Conclusion

(Please refer to the Subject Table of Contents (TOC) for all the other fun details like Bonus Material and that don't miss it! About the Author info.)

- - - -

- Main Table of Contents -

- - - -

*1 Shit the freaking bed... this one was hard. Well, a lot of the stories in here I kept flip-flopping and couldn't decide what stinking order to put them in. I settled on this. But for these two stories, I repeatedly put them in reverse order, then back again. Not sure why I had so many problems. Most of my books really just sort themselves out (or I'm too ignorant to watch what's happening and am just far too happy to be done with fighting the natural order of things, and happily proceed in ignorance). {Return}

:Table of Contents:

- Table of Contents Alphabetical - Table of Contents Linear - Temporal Table of Contents -

Tangled Rose, Introduction

- Fiction & Fantasy -

12 Days of Xmas

April Fool Plan Secret Agent

Ew Yodel #2 - Happy GD B-Day

Happy Trails Hand-job

Push Me, Pull Me, Do Me: Deranged Dreams

See-F'n-Dem Party

- Shades of Gray -

Bad Sex Is...

Drunk Dialing

Ew! Happy Ew Year

Memories

Titles I Never Want to Write

- Non-Fiction -

Bound to be Wrong

Construction Deduction

Conversation Encounters of the Fourth Kind

Drain the Swamp

Orgasmic Multiverse: One vs. Many

Size-Queen Redemption

Terrible Tennis Timing

Unemployed

Weird-Ass, Freaky Pussy Shit

-

(Why? Why is it that every stinking book I write the non-fiction section seems to get longer?)

Primed and Pruned, Untangled Conclusion

Truth and Consequences

- Master Index -

-Other Works (Bonus Tales)-

:Raindrops on Roses:

:Rose by Any Other Name:

- Braless is Better

:Rose Garden: My Life with HSDS:

- Introduction to HSDS

- HSDS 2014 Redoubt

- HSDS Treatment Trial

:Dozen Roses:

:Coming Up Roses:

- Bigger Brother Cover Shoot

:Rose Wood At Home:

:Wars of Roses:

:Real Randy Rose:

:Buns 'n Roses:

- Take Two

:Covering Rose:

- Raindrops on Roses Cover Creation

:Climbing Rose:

:Chains - Excerpt

:Dare to Bare:

- How to Contribute to Dare To Bare

- Comfort Zone

:Love All, Rose:

:Bed of Rose's:

- HSDD, Infidelity, Menopause, and Me

- HSDD Helpful Suggestions

:Planet Janet:

:Cocktails with Rose:

:Corn Rose:

:Morning Rose:

:On the Rose Again:

:Prehistoric Rose:

:Dare to Dream:

:Rose Art - The Infamous Banned Book

Soul Service, Inc. (Excerpt)

:Parade of Roses (the grand master index of Rose kink)

- - - -

About Rose C. Maru

Contact Information

- - - -

Enough already! Get me to the Introduction!

(Skip the other Table of Content (TOC) packs and let's get to the book!)

- - - -

:Alphabetical Table of Contents:

(for the Anal-Retentive in All of Us)

- Subject Based Table Of Contents(TOC) - Linear Appearance TOC - Temporal TOC -

12 Days of Xmas

April Fool Plan Secret Agent

Bad Sex Is...

Bound to be Wrong

Construction Deduction

Conversation Encounters of the Fourth Kind

Drain the Swamp

Drunk Dialing

Ew! Happy Ew Year

Ew Yodel #2 - Happy GD B-Day

Happy Trails Hand-job

Memories

Orgasmic Multiverse (One vs Many)

Primed and Pruned, Untangled Conclusion

Push Me, Pull Me, Do Me

See-F'n-Dem Party

Size-Queen Redemption

Tangled Rose Introduction

Terrible Tennis Timing

Titles I Never Want to Write

Unemployed

Weird-Ass, Freaky Pussy Shit

(For all the standard items, About the Author, and Bonus Material, puddle your way through the main Table of Contents - otherwise it got just too confusing back here.)

- - - -

- Main Table of Contents -

- - - -

:Temporal Table of Contents:

(Earliest 2014 to Most Recent 2021)

- Topic / Main Table of Contents (TOC) - Alphabetical TOC - Spatial TOC -

New for the Roaring '20s! It's come to my attention that my stories have me spread pretty wide at times. Er, I mean on the temporal time-line of this dimensional reality some of us share. So there were some questions about oddities appearing in some tales contained in the same collection as it seemed like I'd made a little one-eighty (180° turn) in my thoughts, feelings, and disturbing dreams and, as of 2021, Oh good lord! What the hell was that? a real, honest to goodness blurred-reality fantasy.*1

Title / Original Concept Date (date of conception barring any dimensional rifts):

12 Days of Xmas 2014

Unemployed 2015

Bad Sex Is... 2016

Ew! Happy Ew Year 12/31/2016

Ew Yodel #2 - Happy GD B-Day 1/1/2017

Drunk Dialing 2018

See-F'n-Dem Party 2018

Orgasmic Multiverse 2018

April Fool Plan Secret Agent 2/14/2019

Terrible Tennis Timing 8/24/2019

Push Me, Pull Me, Do Me 11/3/2019 AM

Size-Queen Redemption 11/3/2019 PM (a Two-Fer Day*2)

Drain the Swamp 11/13/2019

Memories 12/1/2019

Conversation Encounters of the Fourth Kind 4/29/2020

Construction Deduction 5/20/2020

Titles I Never Want to Write 6/1/2020

Happy Trails Hand-job 8/8/2020

Bound to be Wrong 9/27/2020

Weird-Ass, Freaky Pussy Shit 2/3/2021

Tangled Rose Introduction 4/5/2021

Primed and Pruned, Untangled Conclusion 4/12/2021

(Please refer to the subjective Table of Contents (TOC) for all the other fun details like Bonus Material and what has become additional weirdness in my About the Author info.)

- - - -

- Main Table of Contents -

- - - -

*1 My first ever. Who the fuck invented that shit?! And after living over half-a-century without ever having one, hells-bells, what should suddenly overcome my defenseless little psyche? But a hellaciously real while I was having sex fantasy. Which means I was the first one to sign up for the Holy Hell, Rose, you need to put a date on this shit, because whatever comes after whatever the hell that was, can never be trusted again. {Return}

*2 Two-Fer - colloquium derived from Two for the price of one advertising nomenclature... a Two-fer. But in this instance, two stories on the same day, one hideous childhood dream reflection oozing out in the sleep-deprived morning hours followed by a second story idea / realization later in the day. A two-fer deal I'm sure I could've passed on and been just as happy. I think. {Return}

Tangled Rose

A tangled up, mixed-up mess of a Rose.

Yup, that's me in a nutshell. At least how I've been headed over the past half-dozen years as I pass from perimenopause into full-blown, she ain't comin' back menopause. Which if I don't start getting some sleep will completely drive me nuts.

And as if HSDD (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder)*1 wasn't enough to snarl up my life from allowing me to go gently into the night, I've managed to discover a shit-ton of new and more creative ways to mess me up: menopause, orgasmic evolution*5, lack of sleep, employment shifts, and potentially excursions into alternative truths and realities. Plus I'm sure I'll manage to find a lot more ways to fuck myself over before this book is through. (And what I manage not to royally screw up in the stories, tales, and non-fictional confessions, I'm pretty darn sure I'll completely knot myself up into a tight little ball, just hugging my knees and rocking in the corner with the Truth and Consequences section.*2)

Because if I can make these mistakes or have to live through bewildering circumstances, I'm sure others are in the same butt-licking boat! We can be messed up together!

Thus, Yea, Tangled-Up, Messed-Up, Fucked Up Life! Let's tackle it together.

- - - -

Truth - Skip Endless Footnotes to Next Story - Table of Contents

- - - -

*1 HSDD: I don't typically have any desires to get hot-and-bothered, my brain never gets all hormonally drippy-slathery-wet, or even accidentally think about sex or sexy shit, let alone actually do the deed so to say. Which if you're new to my work or the disorder, feel free to hop into the back of this book where I slice-and-dice out some sections of previous books (like my Intro to HSDS {There will be a link back to this footnote at the end of that write-up if you want the background now.}) to better fill you in. Of course, if you're here for the sex, so am I. Because it's been my project through these books to 'just write it out' and pretend my way to remembering to service my guy. Writing about humping just about anything that moves is supposed to remind me to jump him once in a while. I guess we'll find out how that's working out for me (and him) (and possibly, ahem, others that I accidentally hump - dammit! Bump. Bump! - bump into.) Dammit! This is just the fucking introduction, let me pretend I'm still a proper, upstanding young lady. (If I'm doing make-believe, I can so call myself young, dammit!) {Return}

*2 Truth and Consequences? Why, yes, thank you, I don't manage to embarrass myself enough out here in the main body of the book, so why not try for a clean sweep and admit all the sordid truth and honesty behind each and every story. The Truth link after each 'chapter' (stand alone, read-them-in-any-order-you-wish pieces of prose) hops you back to the behind the scenes information where I come clean (even if it sometimes involves me admitting I actually came dirty... as I might have cum clean through the whole episode, so to say) about little tidbits and tawdry details that might add some depth and/or understanding about me and / or the event itself. I always wished other authors would provide this sort of information because I'm often intrigued by something I read and wonder, WTF? How did she come up with that idea? There's no way someone could actually... {I'm bored already and don't want the rest of the information in this footnote... get me back to the Introduction now, I want to leave the footnote party early.} {For everyone not in the ADHD category, feel free to keep reading this somewhat long-and-drawn-out footnote...}

My faithful followers and readers take many paths to using the Truth section. Some click-and-read (and use the helpful 'Return' buttons to hop back to the story) each truth immediately after the story (then decide if it's worth another read immediately afterward knowing the background, which sometimes vastly changes the entire mood or experience of the account they had just thought they read and understood.) Others read the entire book as it's written and organized, straight through, enjoying the sometimes mesmerizing confusion that seems to be my life, then after the last story, jump to the Truth and Consequences section to read that beginning to end; occasionally finding little surprises that developed through the evolution of the book as a whole (HSDD: I don't just forget to have sex, I forget sex-related topics, too! Thus each time I read one of my books, it's a whole new revelation to me as well.) And the last group or readers, although there aren't many of them, but they are out there (Shout out to them! Hey! I mentioned you guys!*4) and they truly dislike the honest admissions in the Truth... preferring to imagine their own way through my predicaments and leave hidden the actual background info, finding the mystery a perfect way to enjoy the book. There is no right or wrong answer... much like love, intercourse, and light bondage. So feel free to experiment. I try to make this a safe space and not judge people (I mean, sheesh, you're talking with someone that completely lacks the TMI (Too Much Information) part of her brain (it's apparently linked to sexual awareness) as I've slowly discovered you can't ask your friends if they 'just start cumming like a banshee if their husband sticks his tongue up your ass'.*3 Huh, I just realized I'm still in a footnote... and came back from a footnote. From past history, that's usually an indication I'll get some sort of panicked look from someone as we happily discuss these things in any sort of introduction in real life - which I usually take to mean I've gone off topic for too long and they're anxious for me to get back to the main thrust of the story and quit detailing how the thrusts felt. Oh! Thrust! Truthful Thrusting for a Better America! That's what I wanted to say: the Truth link will be there, feel free to safely use it. Hugs! {Return}

*3 Well, at least you can't ask them in the waiting area of a restaurant. Or the grocery store checkout line. Or break-time at work (Wow, I thought it'd be inappropriate to ask them while on the clock, but apparently not!) I mean, pop off with a simple, Hey, do you just start, for no good reason, cumming up a storm when your husband touches his tongue to your asshole? Like disgusting globs just running out of you? Because since I've been in menopause for the past couple years, that's been like the only sure-fire way to get me wet without receiving a ton of oral sex. - and they freak the hell out before I even get to the end of my question! Geez, people! This is the 2020's for Christ's sake! Menopause is no longer a taboo subject! We're women of the Twentieth Century, we're allowed to admit we've gone through the change. Quit freaking out when I talk about it! (And I thought I was repressed.) {Return}

*4 Although they have learned to at least scroll through the Truth section as it's become increasingly more common for me to slip in an extra extra tidbit back there where I can only hope the truly free-thinkers of the world dare to tread... and understand I can't illustrate most of my stories out in the main text as I'd like to, but instead slipping in an occasional picture to make my point back there out of the prying eyes of any excessively sensitive morality police state jurisdiction or review board might be allowed. Not to mention, some folks apparently rent my books and only pay-by-the-page, getting the main body of work at a huge discount over what all the upstanding readers plunk down - but they have to skip the Truth section to do this. Which, let's be honest, except for my two readers that have written me admitting the truth section completely ruins my rhythm/boner - what I put back there is sometimes far better and juicier than what's up here in the front. Yes, I want to reward my dedicated and faithful readers (that slog their way through my whole book), so I try to make my background and truth section worthwhile. Most of the time. And when I get too far off track, I do try to provide early exits or warning signs. Unlike this annoyingly long footnote section. See? I'd put in a picture of my boobs here to make up for it... but I don't want my book rejected due to obscene pictures. So I won't slip in a picture out here in the main body of work. {Return}

*5 Evolution? More like the decent of man. Or woman, as the case may be. Because it's completely devolved from happily measured in seconds to a couple minutes to WTF?! It's been more than five freaking minutes! When the hell are you going to come, you ungrateful bitch? (My self-talk tends to be a little less than positive at times.) {Return}

- - - -

Construction Deduction

I don't really feel this way, do I?

I squeal with laughter - at first joyous, then with growing panic - as I fight to get my shirt down.

And struggle to ignore the coldness upon my freshly shaved glory below, which apparently has been out for quite some time... at least based upon the disgusting tingle of obvious wetness oozing out of me.

My hands are on his, relatively speaking, and all of us are on my breasts. Which are only partially covered by my shirt.

The house shakes again, windows rattling, more knickknacks threatening to topple over as the heavy machinery next door rumbles about.

I swear, I see him look right into the our window not more than two feet from my flailing feet as my tormentor and I rock backward onto the bed with the struggle for shirt supremacy waging onward.

I have the upper hand... on the right side. On the left? Probably should've given up, because the continued back-and-forth motion over the top of my left nipple is only making it more obscene as she crinkles into a hard knot, because he reminds me again I should stop opening my legs trying to get traction if I really don't want my dainty lady bits not to be seen by the excavator working just outside the window.

So when I'm given free reign over that right breast, I start to celebrate my half-victory - hell, his hand retreated to distant lands, far away from...

Ah! my laughter stops.

Everything stops.

Well, except the continued action of his digit, maybe two, which has slid effortlessly up inside me, lubricated to easy access into my vaginal vault... through no fault of my own.

Well, unless you consider my cumming up a storm to be my fault. Which it wasn't. And that flood might even slow down just a little if my husband would stop the fuck telling me how the construction worker is spending an inordinate amount of time moving the same small pile of rock back-and-forth immediately outside the window so he doesn't miss any of the wonderful views - of me! - maybe I'd stop, well, whatever the hell is going on down there - with me completely filleted out and visible. Well, except what's concealed by the in-and-out motion of his fingers into my happy hole, so to say.

And, shit, she's made happy almost to the point where I swear I feel it running down my ass crack.

Enough to where he lets me have my left breast under cover. Because he needs the extra hand to keep my thighs spread open. Well, he would need it if I would stop leaving them spread wide - dammit!

I freak the hell out. Further.

And this time I actually try to close my legs. The right way. Not spread open further.

I completely panic with that realization.

Not that my pussy was practically pressed, gaping open, against the window for someone else to see. The fucking fact that I really should not have been letting - helping - it happen.

Obviously wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Completely, morally wrong.

I storm out of the room, having struggled to free myself from my husband's evil clutches. (To hell with any observation from the casual observer that All it took was me putting my legs together and standing up. - dammit! I had to do way more than that! I had to bend down and get my fucking pants. And soaking wet panties. From off the floor. Okay? You happy! See?! I struggled! And fought gallantly to prevent my exposure. When I wasn't helping. And laughing. And enjoyin- ... And that's when I suddenly realized how wrong it was.)

-

Later he apologized. I tried to stop him. I didn't want to have the conversation.

Unfortunately we sort of had it anyway.

Oddly enough, he never got it. Not completely.

But he didn't - couldn't? - promise not to do that again, because he didn't truly understand how I've changed my point of view. How I suddenly, on the flip of the switch, I now find it 'Morally wrong to reveal my breasts' to anyone that's not my husband.

Finally he got it a little, how it suddenly, truly hit me down to my core how wrong it was.

Only, sort of, it hurt a little more than I expected to see the look in his eyes - especially while he was trying to explain how wonderful and amazing I am, which is why he's okay with it. With the 'sharing' and letting others see... and letting me feel special. I wish I could be good with it. Because, deep down, that feels good, too - to know he loves me that much and sort of knows, maybe - maybe! - that I crave that kind of... - acceptance? appreciation? - as well.

Although I still have to admit, right now I know having gotten naked for other people to see me live-and-in-person, and follow their directions*1, was wrong.

Now that's an earthshaking deduction.

- - - -

Truth - Table of Contents

- - - -

*1 Oh, wow, this got moved way the hell up in the book, so I better explain this so you don't think I'm some sort of cum-slut-hussy (because not everyone will see this immediately after publishing - I mean reading! - Dare to Dream where I included an illustrated and detailed account of my first ever modeling gig; during which I got to pose and model an outfit provided by the photographer for a few minutes; then hours and lots of posing in a loose, button up shirt... that I almost wore a significant portion of the time. And when it became apparent my 'granny panties' kept creeping up in the shots, it was a simple decision. I completely followed his instructions. Before he even finished asking if I was comfortable taking them off, they were hitting the ground to the side of the set in a small, crumpled pile of thin, white cotton. And we were off-and-running for the shoot... because I was hot on the trail of my next Atta girl! or other bigger compliment about how wonderful I was doing. Commando, topless, whatever. I'd always pretended to be a model, but before that shoot, it never seemed real. Then it was too real. At least suddenly more than twenty years after I completed the shoot. {Return}

Terrible Tennis Timing

It's not just the words you say, but how you serve them up

Well, damn. Tennis is supposed to be a fun frolic of frivolity.

Until someone says something they shouldn't. Or says something they should, but I have to admit a different reality.

My husband and I were playing with another couple for doubles tennis (two people on either side of the net - so, teams of two), but we've always mixed things up and freely exchange partners back-and-forth for a variety of play and to extend the fun getting to hit with and against more people. So while I occasionally do partner with hubby, it's only for a third of the games when we play with two other people as we don't worry about true 'mixed' doubles, just rotate around as, like I said, it's all just for fun... supposedly... until someone says the wrong thing.

Randy was partnered with the other gal when he finally gets the perfect placement to nail a return right at me. Practically right between my legs in a hard smash from the net. He just drills the hell out of it in amazing speed, shooting the ball right between my feet before I can even try to get my racket around.

It was a beautiful, perfectly timed shot; and my partner and I congratulated him, because Randy's not the best player out there by any stretch of the imagination (and in this instance, only 'rivaled lower in ability' by his current partner*1).

His lovely, limpid pool of estrogen supplement, that is playing next to him as his teammate, flicks her tennis skirt in a slight reprimand, Better watch it, or you won't have anything for lunch, she warns her partner at the moment: my husband. Thinking she's clearly saving him heartache. Or at least hunger pangs.

That same warning had previously been given at least one or two times earlier while she played against her own husband, thus threatening to withhold food after he does something like that hard smash to her. Post-warning, her husband softens his game. Markedly. With profuse apologies and compliments in addition to very gentle tennis play against his wife.

Unfortunately, it's slowly become common knowledge through various means (Dammit, Rose! Stop correcting people when they fucking talk!), my husband isn't at all nervous about such threats.

My partner, opposing wife's husband, pipes up before I can even say anything, What's he care? He's the one that cooks!

Oh, low hang the heads of the guilty; because she was undeterred in knowing that my husband should be repentant and mend his wicked net-playing ways or suffer...

For she starts down a road I quickly knew I wasn't going to enjoy,