Introducing Phelan Everett

Have started both my summer jobs now! Act One Scene One in the mornings and Sharon Day Camp in the afternoons. I will be one busy lady!

I am already sunburnt- despite using SPF 50 sunblock, lol. I'm a lobster! 

I'm loving working at Sharon. Loving working with Mr. Waite. God Damn but he's adorable. And he's so good with the kids it makes my uterus spasm! He has 1st graders, which kinda drive him crazy (I don't blame him, 1st graders are only slightly better than kindergarteners, who are an entirely different species from us), but he's still so great with them! And it is SOOOO cute to see him interact with those tiny little nuggets!  He's great at his job and what he does and it makes me psyched to see him there.

Plus I dig calling him "Mr. Waite." Nummy.

He calls me Miss Reardon, but more often just calls me "Reardon" Which makes me smile so wide!

Act One Scene One was fun today as well. I don't really have further comment, other than to say I do believe I'm getting better at learning and retaining NAMES. I still have a long way to go if I want to hold a candle to BETHANY NELSON's skill and talent for name learnin, but I do believe I'm getting better.

Best thing I heard all day-- in re-telling his favorite part of the movie TOY STORY 3, this little boy was quoting a scene in which Mr. Potato Head demands people stop 'putting things in his butt' and he, the young boy, finishes in this glorious manner: "I told you not to come in my butt!"

YEAH. For Realz. I thought there must be a camera on me! oh, myer, out of the mouths of babes!

SO! As for the writing: I'm introducing a new character today! Whoop whoop. I realize you all have busy lives and don't get to read much but WE. I'mma keep on trucking anyway. Because If I stop posting fiction then I mostly stop producing fiction. Like breast milk, I've been told. So PUMP ON says I, and pump on I shall!


Enjoy suckling on this one bitches. 
Introducing Phelan Everett. 
Awww yeah. 

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“What the fuck’ve you got in the fridge?”  Phelan Everett demanded of his roommate upon opening the refrigerator door to see several bottles of expensive looking wine taking up all the room he needed to store his leftovers from lunch.

“Wine—don’t touch it!”  Called Grey from the living room where he was ironing a shirt.

“Why so fucking much of it?”  Phelan asked, struggling to re-arrange various boxes of weeks-old take-out to make room for the new additions.  “You having a fancy lady orgy?”  Who the fuck needed this much wine?  There were two bottles of red on the counter too.  Christ.  And various expensive cheeses and fresh fucking fruit and shit too. “Can I come?”  He added, thinking about how many women would be needed to consume all this wine.

“No.”  Grey responded with a laugh.  “And it’s not an orgy.”  Phelan heard the puff of steam from the iron.

“All this for one girl?”  Phelan finally shoved his Styrofoam box between a pizza box and the shelf above it, causing a very unpleasant squealing sound that set his teeth on edge.  He closed the fridge and strode into the living room, now taking the time to remove his sunglasses.

Grey was looking at him, smiling.  “Yeah but you should see the girl.”

Phelan knew that look.  That wolfish, hungry, cocky-ass look.  “Goldilocks.”  Said Phelan flatly.  Grey had all the fucking luck.

Grey lifted his eyebrows up and down and then pulled the shirt off the ironing board with a flourish.  “So fucking perfect you’re going to have to punch yourself in the dick.” He shook the shirt out and hung it on a hanger with care.

Fuck.  “What’s she look like?”  Phelan sank into the couch, making every effort to appear non-chalant and friendly, but he couldn’t help the surge of bitter envy pooling in his gut.  Fuck Grey Delaney.  Phelan hadn’t been able to get his hands on a goldilocks virgin in fucking forever.  Like, a year, probably.  Goddammit.  Where did his roommate keep unearthing them?  Grey Delaney must be the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in town.

“You’d like her.”  Grey said, unable to completely mask his gloating as he unplugged the iron.  “She’s only about five-two, maybe five-three,--“  Phelan wanted to kick something. “Tiny waist, perfect tits and Phelan?  Her Ass?  Jesus Cunting Christ.” 

Phelan spread an appreciative smile across his face but wanted nothing more than to feel his foot connect with Grey’s arrogant fucking face.

“She black?”  Phelan asked casually.  If she was black Phelan might just murder his friend and go take the bitch for himself.

“Latina.”  Grey responded with a wink.

God dammit.  That was almost as good.

“And her lips are un-fucking-real.”  Grey shivered and Phelan begrudged the man all the fantastic head he was going to get out of this girl.

“How old?”

“Eighteen.”  Grey said and Phelan felt a small bit better.  Legal.  If she’d been underage he wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to mask his raging jealousy.  “But she’s so doe-eyed and skittish and holy fuck, Phel, you’ll wanna sink your teeth in when you see her.”

Grey folded the ironing board up and put it back in the closet along with the iron.

“You bringing her back here?”  Phelan asked.

Grey made a pitying face.  “C’mon, this isn’t some bar-fly.”  He lectured.  “This is a one-hundred-percent pure goldilocks virgin.”  He stared at his friend with a smirk.  “You know full well that she won’t be seeing the inside of this fucking place for a while.”  Phelan kept his mouth firmly closed as he watched his friend head toward the bathroom and turn on the shower.  Letting the water heat up, Grey strode back into the livingroom, pulling off his t-shirt.  “No.  I’m treating this lovely young lady to a perfect evening at the park, under the stars, with wine and fruit and a nail-biter on the green.”

Phelan pressed his lips together.  She’d be tipsy and giggly and have to cling to him during the suspense of the film.  It was perfect.  Fuck.  What he wouldn’t pay to be Grey Delaney that evening.

“How far do you think you’ll get?”

“Phelan, Phelan, Phelan.”  Grey tisked as he retrieved a towel from the linen closet beside the bathroom.  “How dare you impugn the lady’s spotless reputation?”

Phelan laughed shortly.  “How far?” 

“Why sir, I am appalled.”  Grey said in mock outrage.  “I intend to be a perfect gentleman.”

Phelan squinted at his friend skeptically.  “Ok.”  He conceded, knowing that Grey was going to take his time, do the long-con, get the girl good and dripping and willing to do anything for him.  Christ.  So this really was the real deal.  It was like a fucking unicorn or some shit.  “You lucky prick.”  He said, half smiling, half menacing.

Grey grinned.  “How many times have I told you—it isn’t luck, it’s skill.”

Bullshit.  “Where’d you find her?”

Grey shook his head, still grinning.  “Nope.”

“Nope what?”

“No way am I giving out that secret.  I’m not gunna let you even try to poach her, you greedy fuck.”

“Afraid of a little competition?”  Phelan challenged, never dropping his smile.

Grey laughed.  “You aren’t her type.”  He said dismissively and waltzed into the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror.  He put a hand to his face and rubbed thoughtfully on his cheeks and chin.  Phelan knew he was weighing the options of which degree of stubble would work best this evening.

“Oh yeah?”  Phelan called, wanting to be heard over the running shower.  “What’s her type?”

Grey looked over and with a subtle quirk of his lips in an otherwise dead-pan expression he answered: “Me.”, then lifted one brow playfully and shut the bathroom door.

Arrogant prick.

Virgins

Yeah.  So I promised myself that it would be ok on this blog to post things that were still, technically, 'a work in progress' didn't I?

And I have done so.  I mean more than just my typos and the generally hackneyed style of writing.  I've posted some raw shit, some stuff that needs serious re-working, and some stuff that would probably get cut right out if I were to ever make this a formal, linear book-type-dealy-thing.

And today I'm posting something that has been a real fucking pain in the ass for me because I love how it starts, love the feel of it, but it is going NOWHERE.  It's just filler.  Fun filler, a fun little look into Grey's arrogant psyche, but filler nonetheless.  

Maybe what I have here would be followed by their first date, but fuck me, I'm not ready to write that.  Not now, maybe not ever.  Who knows?  On one hand I like the idea of really following their courtship, seeing her woo her, win her and then wreck her, but on the other hand I'm a little more into seeing how they progress now that she's blackmailed him into marriage, ya know?  The real deal romance.

If the fancy strikes me to finish this little fucker then I will finish it.  Please feel free to volunteer ideas on the matter if any strike you!  I LOVE feedback.

Meanwhilez, haz fun with The Three Varieties of Virgin!

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There are three basic varieties of virgin.  Most virgins are itching to lose it, ready to lose it, and it doesn’t take a whole hell of a lot of effort to get them to nod and say “I’m ready” and it’s done.  The easy virgin.

There’s another type, the perennial virgin, and this girl ain’t gonna give it up till she’s said “I Do” and there’s no two ways around it.  She’s keeping her legs closed but good, and unless you’re in it for the long haul you might as well consider that shit a cold case and move the fuck on.

But the best?  The most enjoyable virgin to hunt and win?  That’s the one that’s right in the middle—the goldilocks virgin.  Not too hot, not too cold, but just right.  She’s not dying for the chance to spread her legs and have her cherry popped, but she might be persuaded that ‘love’ is an acceptable reason, rather than waiting for marriage.  She won’t sleep with just anyone, but will consent to giving her chastity to ‘the right person’ even if he isn’t sporting that little gold band.

And these virgins are the most delicious, because before they give up the prize they’re likely to experiment with all sorts of other options first, to ‘tide’ herself over or keep the fella sufficiently satisfied.  These goldilocks virgins, true to their name, are willing to try things out and see how they like them.  Because they aren’t willing to jump right to the deflowering, but they are willing to be ‘active’ in a committed relationship; they’re likely to get really good at hand jobs, at oral, and these are the quietly erotic beauties who’re likely to consent to anal—so long as you promise to be gentle.  They are the fatted calf, the golden fleece, the little ring you reach for at the carousel in summertime.

Grey had recently had a string of easy virgins, and they’d been great, been fun, but he was hungry for a change of pace.  But the kind of virgin he wanted wasn’t so easy to sniff out.  It took care and patience and could often be a frustrating waste of time if the lady walked that razor’s edge between perfect and prude.  He was craving the thrill of a good, long, measured hunt.  The satisfying, delayed gratification kind of stalk, the courting and the romance and the getting-her-to-fall-in-love kind of experience.  Nothing was quite as rewarding as a job well done with one of those goldilocks creatures.

And, he wasn’t sure yet, but he believed he may have just found a perfect candidate.  He’d run into her at his Uncle’s wine store when he’d popped in to pick up something for a date that night. 

She was adorable.  Young and Latina and slim but curvy, achingly innocent but undeniably attracted to him.  She’d been so easily flustered by his charm it was endearing.  So skittish it was arousing.  He’d thought about her all week.  About her perfectly high, round ass, her full breasts, and that amazing pair of lips.  He liked the warm caramel-mocha color of her skin and the thick, fat, dark curls framing that wide-eyed little face. 

But.  Was she going to yield results?  He went back-and-forth with Catholics, and this girl had definitely been a Catholic.  Some of the best lays he’d ever had were repressed little Catholic hellions.  But they also ran high numbers in the ain’t-gonna-happen-not-without-the-vows category.

He decided he’d need to suss-it-out.  He needed to revisit the wine shop and test the waters.  Though it was tricky, though there wasn’t an exact science, Grey had become quite skilled at sizing up virgins, administering his own personal litmus test, and, with some degree of accuracy, predicting whether he’d be wasting his efforts or not.

So he’d made a second visit to the wine shop— to bait and tease the virgin shop girl until he’d figured her out.  A ridiculous amount of money later he walked out grinning.  She was perfect and he’d be seeing her that very night for a first date.

Grey Delaney was great at first dates.