Archive for June, 2011

20th June
written by Dame Suzy

I accidentally passed through the back-splatter machine at the airport in March, and my man said, “Never do that again!”

So when I was asked to pass through it earlier this month, I asked for the pat-down instead. As I am always happy to experience new things, I went in with enthusiasm.

And at first it was very pleasant, like a gently massage. The TSA agent was polite, respectful and average-looking, not scary at all. She explained the process and put on gloves, just placing her hands firmly here and there and quickly swiping down my sides, back, legs, and arms. She used the back of her hand to feel under the wire of my bra on either side and then in the middle.

Then she advised me she would be putting her hand up the sides of my thighs and that’s where things got questionable. She quickly slid up either thigh and both times when she reached the intersection of crotch and leg, her hand moved my panties enough that it woke up my clit. A little happy whizz happened each time. Hmm, that seemed wrong.

I cannot imagine a child having to submit to these pat-downs. Would their first memories of sexual pleasure be associated with TSA agents? As for me, I’m not thrilled to have to do that again. And I wonder how to avoid that little whizz the next time around. Should I wear no panties at all under a skirt? That hardly seems proper. But maybe going nude under it all is the insane answer to an insane practice.

Note: the middle of my bra doesn’t actually touch my sternum. There’s a good three square centimeters’ worth of space underneath which could technicallly hold something.

13th June
written by Dame Suzy

I used to think that guys’ asking you how old you were was a way of weeding you out if you were too old. I now know that’s not it. If you’re older, apparently you’re more generous in the sack. This bit of insight I received from a skinny, cute Argentine boy of 20-22 with pretty green eyes. We met, smiled at each other, he took me back into a then empty Flamenco dive where he worked and started making out with me. Then he asked my age, which I said was 28. He said he liked older women because they were more daring. Then he whipped out his cock and asked me to lick it. His half-limp cock was hardly inspiring, and I hardly liked being called an older woman. Had he kept his mouth shut, taken a little more time, and emerged hard as steel, things would easily have turned out differently. But the guy laid his cards out on the table, took out the mystery, and left me wanting and deserving much more. Also, I really can’t do the skinny. I just can’t stand how skinny guys look naked. If they’re thin and short so proportional, that I don’t mind. But stretched out, no thanks.

Another guy I met asked me my age, and that night I was dressed younger and feeling peppy so I said 26. He said he was 30, though he looked 24, was really tall and skinny but had arms meant for someone much shorter, a bit of a T-Rex effect unfortunately. But he was a good kisser and was very cute. He pulled me around his waist, which I normally like – it’s a show of the guy’s strength – but then he let me slide down, which pulled my very short skirt up around my waist. As I readjusted myself, he said I was very embarrassed for a 26-year-old. Aha! He knew nothing about me! So I didn’t feel like having my underwear sticking out. That hardly made me a prude. It just made me into looking good and not retarded.

I mean, I was the same woman who in the middle of the dance floor at the old Pacha had a tall manly man bending over in an obvious way to plunge his fingers in and out of my cunt, bringing me to orgasm and no doubt showing me off from time to time. But I was happily distracted at the time. Not being slid off someone’s hips onto the floor.

Am I as an older woman daring? Or a prude? I’m daring with the right guy, a very lucky guy. But when I’m not intrigued, there’s no pulling the wild out of me.

10th June
written by Dame Suzy

I was watching an old Sex and the City episode with Carrie at the beginning rush of their courtship with Mr. Big. She talked about how four hours would seem to pass by in fifteen minutes, and time apart would feel like forever, that maybe it was love. Then she sees him out on a date with another woman and he says that he wasn’t aware that they were being exclusive. She is crushed. She has been enamored all by herself.

I watched this episode the night before I had a callback for a commercial, for which they had brought back their favorite actors from the first round. I was only competing with two other candidates, among which my agent said I was the cutest.

I had even been inspired to invent my own comedic commercial for the same product. And as often is the case, they loved me in the room. They laughed at my version, they had me do other takes, and the director thanked me for giving a good/great performance and joked that my rendition would go viral on the Internet.

I sometimes book jobs well after I’m sure they’ve already picked someone and discarded me. But this time, I got an email that evening from my agent from the casting director, saying, “She did not book the commercial but gave a stellar performance…”

I went from feeling disappointed to crushed. I’d been happy to entertain them, and usually I am satisfied with that. But after too long a period of not booking any jobs, I began to feel that I feel much more of a connection with clients all by myself though they appear impressed with me. I felt just like Carrie, a miserable jilted lover.

That night, I felt just like someone who’d been dumped. I wanted to feel desired again in the easiest way possible, which was getting guys hot and bothered. That night, getting my sweet man into me, was enough. And the next day things looked much brighter.