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Location: Virginia, United States

Sunday, July 14, 2002

Looking around, you see nothing but empty liquor bottles, discarded garments, and the assorted detritus of nearly 3 weeks of partying. Even the hot tub has been drained.

Lipstick letters on the wall read:

Hey! What the fuck are you doing here? We're all at Shell's new place...

I sit on the edge of your bed, my cool fingers stroking your face, smoothing away the day's worries. "Sweet dreams," I whisper, leaning close to your ear. You feel my lips brush against yours.

My Love in Her Attire
by Author Unknown

My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings, fit,
For winter, spring, and summer.
No beauty she doth miss,
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty's self she is,
When all her robes are gone.

Sweet Disorder*
by Robert Herrick

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction --
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher --
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly --
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat --
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility --
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.

*aka "Ode to Bedhead"


Many kisses to Zaldor for trying to clean up the mess I made of the movable type installation. Unfortunately, being the perfectionist I am, I did a superb job of screwing it up, to the point that now my login doesn't even work. *g* So we're still here on blogspot, for at least another day, while I wait for the very nice people at MT to look at what I did, snicker at my incompetence, and either fix the problem or tell me that I'm too dangerous to be allowed to blog.

Saturday, July 13, 2002

Blogging will be light this weekend. I'm in the process of transferring to movable type. The installation is complete, now I just have to move the blog entries and futz with the visual settings.

But I'm taking a bath break now. Yes, one of those luxurious lavender bubble baths. :) Would anyone like to volunteer to wash my hair? How about running the soapy washcloth all over my wet body?

The Appalachian Trail winds through the mountains of North Carolina and passes through a little town called Hot Springs. The only industry there seems to be hiking. Every little shop has hiking gear and portable food. Grimy pedestrians with backpacks and walking sticks mingle with the locals. We were the exception. We drove into the town.

Our destination was the Hot Springs Spa and Resort. Natural mineral springs bubble out of the ground at a temperature of about one hundred degrees. They are piped into hot tubs that are arranged in secluded nooks overlooking the river. Lattice work and landscaping allow each tub to be private, yet not enclosed. The sound of the water in the tub and the nearby river enhance the feeling of isolation. Because the tubs are emptied and cleaned between bathers, there is no need for chlorination. The effect on the skin is amazing. You can soak in this water as long as you choose, without your skin ever wrinkling up or drying out.

There's something so magical about making love outdoors. This had nothing to do with the titillating thrill of "what if we get caught." Our privacy was complete for as long as we had rented the tub. There were no trails on the other bank of the river where hikers might intrude. Instead it's a larger than life feeling. Being "one with nature", as cliche as that sounds. That's not the right term--perhaps it's just the sensory overload of being in a lush wooded setting in early summer. No incense can duplicate the rich scent of the earth and the river and the trees. No mood music can compare to the tuneless melody of water over stones or the chatter of birds. No candlelight can display how beautiful your lover looks in full sunlight.

And then afterwards... wow... The afterglow expands beyond the two of you. It almost feels as if you'd just made love to all the life around you--the breeze stroking your skin, the leaves whispering soft endearments, the gentle intimate kisses of the hot springs.


A picture of Shell in a girl-girl kiss.

(She's beautiful, but she's a bitch!)

Friday, July 12, 2002

Am I the only loser home on Friday night? This sucks. My readers have better sex lives than I do.


Suli says: Ever kissed a girl? I've kissed I think, 3. It's way cool, and you don't even have to be a lesbian to think so. No I'm not, but I've had a few lovely lady experiences.

The first time I was in the bathroom of the local artsy hippie watering hole talking to my tall beautiful friend Kathy about something, and I just couldn't stop thinking about how kissable she looked, and just blurted out that very thing. The look that came over her face was incredible! She just started smiling and leaned over and dug in. I remember thinking how "pink" she tasted.

I floated on air for days and kept singing that "I kissed a girl" song in my head.

Shell says: I've had crushes on several girls, but I've only kissed one. I met Jennifer online and we used to chat every night and it just had the kind of giddy infatuation of a new romance, even long distance. Months later we met in person and a group of us were watching some movie that was supposed to be really good, but I was so drunk I couldn't even tell what was happening. I dragged her into the other room so we could just be together and I said "I really want to kiss you". Sadly, I can't remember the look on her face, because I was too drunk to focus properly, but she was agreeable (and also drunk) so we made out for a while. I remember thinking "this is what it feels like to be a guy" and then wondering why guys are always in such a hurry to get past the kissing. It was like kissing a cloud.