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Saturday, October 15, 2005

Big Hands

Last night Lix and I went out on the town. I was feeling sexy, confident and ready for anything. Did anyone see the Moon here in Melbourne last night?

We went from one odd venue to another, there was something about last nights vibe everywhere we went. People just generally seemed stagnant and 'too cool for school'. Just as we were ready to call it a night I started talking to a handsome stranger. I brought one of his friends over for Lix and the foursome ensued.

The handsome stranger revealed himself as a successful owner of this and that, and the rapport was a little stifled. Once he sensed I wasn't interested in his materialistic banter we moved onto more important things.

I decided to push this guy as far as I could. Subtly being suggestive and seeing how he would interpret my behaviour, then watch him react. Before long he was hard. He was so keen to fuck that I could almost see his fuck face, and I hadn't even touched him yet.

He was so damned arrogant and conceited in his charm. All the while I kept wondering what his cock would be like. I was shocked to notice the size of his hands. I held mine up against his and licked my lips in anticipation, of course not relating them to the size of his cock however thinking of the coverage my ass would get if he were to spank me!

Later his hands commanded my attention with an intensity that superseded any other.

It felt perfectly angry as though it was a cure-all for loneliness, without the expectation of future contact. Sometimes it feels empty being sexually intimate with strangers, but last night I found someone whose sexual desire, understanding and expectations met mine equally. The need to fulfill a primal sexual drive rather than a wistful hope for romance and soul mates amongst strangers.

Friday, September 30, 2005

Spring has Sprung

I am unemployed. I am not sure if I love it or hate it. Boredom is a constant evil to negotiate. The thing I hate most about being unemployed is the tiresome job interviews. They are demeaning and mainly far from constructive.

"Lola, tell us about a time in your previous position when you demonstrated good organisational skills"

"Well how about turning up for work on time? Or training my bladder to wait until my next break? Or taking every fucking call within the required pissy amount of time delegated? Does that satisfy your requirements for the job I am applying for that any moron could do?"

"Lola, tell me where you see yourself in five years?"

"I honestly cannot answer that, however may I distract your attention from this question by telling you where I see myself in five minutes? I see myself in five minutes trying to stifle a yawn and mustering all my energy to impress you by rehashing all the bullshit work related stories I have conjured up within the time it took me to get ready, and arriving at your 26th floor office. Now that's good organisational skills, eh!"

"Okay Lola, I am going to give you 30 seconds to sell me this pineapple."

"It is yummy."

I mean really. Lix and I were discussing the fact that even in an interview, as well as your resume, you are using all the cliches to prove you can utelise all the correct cliches in the correct moments. "Yes, I know how to use cliches, therefore you can be confident in hiring me!!".

For my first interview I donned a suit and felt particularly depressed at the banality and blandness of it all. So I put a flower in my hair and wore some kooky earrings. I knew this was going against the grain, one might say I am cut on the bias. The looks of "Oh no, we have an individual on our hands! Quick, get her through the testing and on her way OUTTA here!" were plain (ironically) to see.

As a young twenty-something, I perfected job interviews. I knew the recipe for being a harmonious balance of not a leader yet not a follower. My dignity could take the bashing of cliche's. I rose to the challenge of being a conservative. However now I struggle to approach any of these.

Maybe because I, like anybody else, has had to be comfortable with who I am. With this comes an effort and constant assessment then affirmations. So once it is achieved it is difficult to return from, even if temporary.

As a wise woman once said "Oh well".

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Anaphylaxis

I was trying with all my might to avoid a debilitating flu that was taking prisoners throughout my friendship group. Everyone was unwillingly succumbing to this body infesting virus. I ate lots of fruit and took lots of vitamins, as the timing couldn't be worse being my last week of employment.

Alas, one morning I awoke to the aching bones and rasping lungs. I decided to be a responsible adult and nip it in the bud and attended my doctor who prescribed anti-biotic. 30 minutes or so after taking it my body started to pulsate in rather odd locations. I went to the bathroom and felt my lips swelling. When I looked at myself in the mirror my face was inflamed and itching. Then the pain began.

With tears of confusion and agony rolling down my hot cheeks I told Lix that something very strange was coming over me. She looked up the symptoms in the medication pamphlet and quickly responded by calling an ambulance. Within minutes I was laying on the lounge room floor unable to control my body. I was insanely overwhelmed with pain in my abdomen, I thought I was losing my uterus. Whilst Lix tried very hard to communicate to the 000 operator my state, and also follow her instructions, my mind slipped into another place.

My tongue, face and throat had swollen, my body broke out in a rash, my muscles were unusable. But the most powerful of all the symptoms was the pain. I kept howling "help me" as I thought I would die. I was not experiencing any delusions, thank fuck! I had to control my mind, "ride the wave" as one might say.

It was the most difficult task not to pass out. My rational mind kept telling me that if I allow myself to pass out it will all be over, I will no longer be consumed and contorted by agony. My experience however, told me that if I do fall asleep then I may not wake up. Ever.

What I had experienced was Anaphylactic Shock. After I had been admininstered with Adrenalin in the emergency ward I lay shaking and convulsing for what seemed an eternity. The doctor advised me that I had been extremely close to dying, and he needed to tell me that. Although I knew it myself.

This all happened last week. Only last night did it truly sink in that I had successfully chosen not to die. Not to let go. You know when you see in the movies people who have been injured and they chose to 'give up' as they are so consumed with pain? Now I understand why someone would do that.

I spent 3 days in hospital. I now have to carry an 'Epi-pen' (a needle filled with Adrenalin) wherever I go. Just in case. The doctors showed no compassion that it may happen again. That I may not survive next time.

Hmph. I still feel a little numb after this experience. I feel a little more serious. My nonchalance has evaporated.

Though once more I have been reminded that I am a survivor.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Change

I have resigned from work.

I have met some lovely boys over the past few months.

I am happy.

I have rekindled a state of mind that i believe is fruitful and extremely user friendly.

The boys have all been international. German and Russian. They both had great cocks, but even more important than their apendage was their attitudes and conversations. The Lola Wolf that was scared of approaching males (yes, it's true) has now subsided, and a drive to experience all new experiences has overwhelmed. I am constantly taking chances with confidence and eagerness.

So often i still think like a Blogger. You know when you write the story in your head whilst being in the experience of it? Recently i was out at a club, and i was walking through the crowd wishing that people could see what i saw. From my perspective. Perhaps it wouldnt have been interesting to other people, however it would have been a colourful cinematic experience.

I look forward to lust. I go out without a care in the world, and embrace the new temporary connections i make with people. Humans are beautiful.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

The Crutch That Was..

Is no longer.

I cannot completely forget about Lola, no matter how hard I try. However the compulsion that once breathed deeply within me to write has exhaled via a resounding sigh.

There are numerous amusing little stories that have crossed my path that would have once been a source for my daily blog. And last night as I laid in bed I thought of a plethora of posts that I was going to regale today.

But when I sat down and opened this blog, I felt empty. I felt as though none of them are important.

There was my synchronicty with other people, my hard assed reality checks, my pet mating interruptions, my new religion, my knitting achievements and finally my sex.

I may appear elsewhere one day. Or I may even appear in your reality.

For now though, I will embrace the big sleep.

Thankyou Dear Readers.

I Love You.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

27

Life in Lolaville.

The usual mutterings of craziness and dramatics could be told, but for now i have drawn a blank. Maybe it is stage fright?

Monday, May 02, 2005

Languages

A gorgeous Soy Chai Tea soothes its way into my happy soul.

The international flavour in here today brings stunning memories of traveling. Two men behind me hold a heated conversation in French. The music of their voices makes me wet. It sends me into my bedroom surrounded by whispers. And my name, over and over.

I look to my left, and meet eyes with an athletic man of about 30 odd. He curls his voluptuous lips into a smile. I parrot his gesture. He has such an angular face of which is very striking. In my mind I take him into my bedroom as well. I replace his unheard voice with one of the French men's.

His hand is sitting in the rim of his trousers whilst his other arm stretches to display his taut bicep. He is naturally tanned. I imagine his cock to curve slightly to the left when hard. And his groin to pump rhythmically in expert strokes. I want to watch him penetrating me.

He doesn't know what I am writing. That my breathing has quickened, almost keeping time with the light psytrance playing. Someone keeps turning up the volume slightly as though they know my rise to climax.

My swaying to the music has allured him. He is staring at me right now. And he has started moving to the music as well.

Now he has become restless, his hands keep changing positions. He can't look at his monitor. A hand trailed over his head.

I need to fuck him.