Sexual liaison protocol within the context of vocabulary within a shared language. Please use the word vagina. Not pussy. Certainly not the gross and highly offensive cunt.

Rendezvous: poolside at the Banana Dream Hotel. Recognition: be drinking a martini with both black olive and silver skin onion in it. Recognition : I’ll be wearing a $60 black lace bra. Code name : Lady Aquatic.

Last thing she expected was to go looking for her client. But having driven for two hours out of town she needed to see the situation through.
He was not sitting by the swimming pool at the designated spot but holed up in a room
on the top floor.
Nor was she expecting to find him sitting in the corner of the hotel room with a brown paper over his head.

Holy crap the man in the paper mask.
Please sit down Lady Aquatic. I do hope you remembered to bring your life jacket with you?
Is it necessary to wear one in a bed? A swimming pool is a slightly different environment.
Oh I thought that was part of the routine.
Pardon me but what the fuck is going on with the paper bag.
Oh I’m lacking in personality or beneath my concealment I might be ugly.

Why hadn’t she stayed home with her cats, made up a couple of martinis and found some weirdo on a social platform to talk to about her Christmas tree, her extravagant taste in single malt whiskey, her expensive taste in lingerie, her ridiculous inability in the kitchen and her real sex life. Sex, no love life.
She could have taken the kids from next door to the mall and bought them chocolate bears and shakes.
Could have.

Would it be imposing on you if I asked whether you, by any chance, have a spare paper bag I might try on? I’m feeling a bit insecure.


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