Cherie – Chapter 25 – Anything Goes

“Once she gets going, you only get a few hours of repose while the eye of Cherie’s hurricane passes over you. But then she returns. Gently caressing your back and arms. You slowly awaken, and the wind increases, and within a short time you are both back at it and the sex storm is back to full force.”

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So last weekend, baby was sick and so was her son. She texted me that she wasn’t coming down Friday night because of all of that. She just couldn’t do it. I want her to be well, and I also don’t want to catch whatever she has. Oh, and it was also shark week. I swear this girl has more periods than a Hemingway novel!

So I was a little relieved that for the first time in a month, I could simply go home on a Friday night after working at the salon, and chill. I could sleep in, and take myself out to breakfast on Saturday. Nothing to do. Just quiet solitary bliss.

Which I got. So I figured that the next weekend, she’d be all better and I’d see her. But then I got a message from my buddy Duncan, that his flight was getting in on Friday of next week. There was no way I could be with Cherie. Duncan had made this plan and booked his flight eight months ago! Yea, that’s Duncan for you. (See: Duncan – Concetrated Dosage)

So I had to break the news to Cherie. I didn’t know what her reaction would be, but when I told her she understood and was totally cool with it. (I mean, she sort of had to accept it. There was nothing I could do.) But she seems really good at accepting disappointment. I’m sure she’s had enough of that in her short life. My daughter Lorelei is the same way. She lived with her mother for so long she became accepting that life would be full of grinding disappointments. But instead of resentment, these two Scorpios, just knuckled down and made themselves better people. They haven’t met yet, but when they finally do, I hope I remember to thank them both for that wonderful trait.

So this was going to be a three-week intimacy drought. I know that’s really hard on her. I’m used to not getting laid. I’m just happy to be once again having sex. So I decided I should at least take her out to lunch during the week so we could at least see each other.

We met on a Tuesday, at where else? Ruby Tuesday’s! I just realized that connection. It was really nice to see her, but the embers are always smoldering under the surface with us. That feeling that we want nothing more than to rip each others clothes off and tear each other apart. I’m looking at her across the table. She’s telling me some story, and I’m listening, but I’m just letting my eyes dance all over her. Her lovely face, full lips, her lovely skin. She’s wearing her hair down, but in a pony tail pulled to the side. She looks very collegiate with her official Temple I.D.

I want her. But I can’t have her. Not today. Not for another week and a half. She looks lovely today. I tell her every time I see her she becomes more beautiful. She’s grateful and sweet about it, but I can see in her dark eyes what she really desires.

Sometimes I think I like writing about the non-sexual encounters because there’s more to think about. The obvious and easy part of the relationship is just the collision of our bodies in a celebration of pulchritude, but sitting and breaking bread with her and not being “allowed” to be intimate, is somewhat titillating. The forbidden. The denied. I’m a very patient man. I can wait years for things to come to fruition. A week and a half won’t kill me, but to her, it’s making her crazy.

She tells me she thinks about sex with me all day, and it’s driving her crazy. I’ve never experienced a woman like this. I was always a hyper-sexual growing up, but I have truly met my match. Mine has settled with middle age, but the fires can still burn brightly when they are fanned. She says she’s a nymphomaniac, and the only thing stopping her from being a whore is self-respect, control, and loyalty.

All great qualities. Wow. It’s like I’m banging Storm from the X-Men or something. Because when the lightning strikes it is extremely powerful. And once she gets going, you only get a few hours of repose while the eye of Cherie’s hurricane passes over you. But then she returns. Gently caressing your back and arms. You slowly awaken, and the wind increases, and within a short time you are both back at it and the sex storm is back to full force.

I love it, and I love Cherie, but it’s like I’m in some sort of sexual training program. It’s funny… you really do have to be careful what you wish for. I remember reading this book that my ex-girlfriend Michelle once lent me. (See: Michelle – 2007 to Present – A Brand New Day) It was called The Secret. I don’t know if this book was something that helped a lot of people but I do remember reading that if you think hard enough things that you want, and you do the right activities, you will actually start to ‘pull’ those things toward you. I started to do it back when I met Michelle, and it started to work.

But Cherie almost seems like a ‘reward’ of some kind. I’ve suffered at the hands of so many for so long, I was finally granted a reprieve from all of the bad drama and problems all of these women suffered from. Cherie was the perfect girl for me. Smart. getting her education. (Graduating next year) Hard worker. Doesn’t want anymore kids. I don’t see her all of the time, so I have my alone time. Super chill, zero drama chick. And of course, there’s the mad sexual appetite.

So we finish eating. We’ve brought each other up to date on what’s been happening in each others lives. I walk her to the train. She has to stop back at school, and then go to work over at CHOP. We’re sitting on a bench that’s a bit further away from the crowd on the platform. I get to steal a few kisses from my lovely lady. She even offers me her soft slender neck. I tell her I love her and she always returns the same.

We agree that another lunch next Tuesday should at least bridge the canyon of desire until next weekend.

“And when I do see you next weekend, and we’re together…”

“Yes, Cherie?”

“I want you to fuck me, and fuck me, and fuck me. Please promise. ”

She says this with all seriousness, like it is something she needs more than desires.

In ten days I’ll fulfill that wish.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 24 – Under The Hood

“You can tell the difference from a woman fulfilling an obligation, and a woman who loves you.”

Cherie rolls into town around 8:30 on a Friday.  She looks beautiful. She’s not wearing her glasses, and her hair is all soft black ribbons. I meet her at Suburban Station, and off we go. This has been how it’s transpired for the last few months. She’s still working at Children’s Hospital as a Medical Assistant, and going to school at Temple for neuroscience, but I don’t think she’s at the pediatrician’s office anymore. The hours were killing her.

We’re both exhausted. Her with work and school, and me working two jobs now. The Institute and the tanning salon. She’s happy to be in my bedroom and I’m glad she’s here too. I’ve missed her, and she’s looking especially hot tonight.

We kick off our shoes and lie on the bed. A bit of small talk ensues and then the kissing. Her lips are so soft.

I love her.

I basically strip her. I like undressing Cherie. It’s like I’m taking control of her. She likes it, and I’m gentle with her. Sometimes I wish phicklephilly were a sex blog, because I like writing about sexual things. But I think it changes the integrity of the blog. I’ll leave it to your imagination. Of course 50 shades of grey sold a shit ton of copies, so sex sells. But I just don’t want to do that here. I could try it in a tasteful way. But how does one do that? (I’d appreciate the opinion of a few of my writer followers out there!)

Our sex is fire. It’s the best I’ve ever had. Cherie is a sexual dynamo. A nymphomaniac who just loves sex. And I’m up to the challenge whenever she needs it, as much as she needs it. We’re both pleasers. So think about what that’s like. We’re always giving to each other and loving the entire process.

Cherie loves when I go down on her. She can tell how much I enjoy it, because I do it for as long as she can stand it, and with great enthusiasm. She had a root canal this week and was only worried that she wouldn’t be able to please me orally the way she likes to. She just doesn’t just do it to give me pleasure, she truly loves doing it. You can tell the difference from a woman fulfilling an obligation, and a woman who loves you. She’s a wonderful woman. A girl who is super chill on the street, but a tigeress in the sheets.

So we frolicked until midnight, and then passed out. I don’t know who woke who up three hours later, but we did some more then.  Back to sleep, and then one more in the morning. I love morning sex. I’m refreshed, and it’s light so I can see her. Men are visual animals. It’s hotter if I can see my quarry.

At least I got some sleep in between, because Cherie was able to stick around a bit longer on Saturday. Normally she has to leave and get back home to her house. So we’re able to just lay in bed together for a while in the morning, which I love. At some point our stomachs are grumbling, and we decide to get up. We discuss breakfast/brunch options and decide on Devil’s Alley.

As I’ve written before, Devil’s Alley has the best dry rub wings. So we start our day off with a plate of them. Wings! The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. From there I move onto the scrambled eggs and bacon, and Cherie goes with the bagels and lox. I love my breakfast, but Midtown Diner and Little Pete’s is still better when it comes to breakfast food. I always eat like a wolf after a night with Cherie.

After breakfast we walk a bit. I just like to walk after a meal. We get to the other side of Broad street and I call an UBER. Guy goes right by us, and then cancels. I summon a second car. He arrives shortly after. I tell him we’re going to the UA Riverview movie theater on Columbus Blvd.  He’s a little chatty, and I’m not in the mood for it. We’re driving along and the guy ends up getting on 95 south. He realizes the error too late. I watch as we drive past the movie theater in the distance. I point to it to show Cherie how we’re now heading away from the theater. Maybe there are movies playing down at the airport.

He finally gets turned around, and gets us there on time.  We go in, and I tell the girl at the window that I want two tickets for the 1:40 show of XXX: The Return of Xander Cage. She tells me that show is in an IMAX theater. I’m good with that. She hands me two pair of 3D glasses. The tickets are expensive. It was close to forty bucks, but baby’s worth it. She never wants anything from me, and gives me amazing love, so I’m happy to spend money on her.

We go up to the escalator to the second floor, and when we get up there we look for the door to get into the theater. We run into a staff member and he directs us to an elevator to take us up to the top.

It’s a beautiful space. The screen is gigantic. We find a pair of seats in the back, and pop our glasses on. It’s the trailer for another Pirates of the Caribbean movie. It looks fantastic in 3 D! This is going to be really good.

The movie starts and it is your typical action picture. Car chases, gun fights and crazy stunts. But seeing it on a giant immersion screen and in 3D, it’s an absolute pleasure. The visuals are striking and the sound is incredible. The place is nearly empty so if feels like the show is just for us. I can see Cherie is loving it and so am I.

After the movie, we stroll northward towards center city. I’m watching the clock, because she wants to catch a 5:30 train. I’m lost in our conversation, and realize I better call an UBER because I forgot that she left her backpack back at my apartment. I summon one, and once we’re in it, the driver gets confused and has to double back to get us back to my house. We finally get there, and now she won’t make her train. She’s totally cool about it but I’m kind of pissed about our UBER fails today. She decides to call one to take her home, because she missed her train.

We go outside and wait across the street. Of course this guy gets lost and ends up looking for us a block away. I’m losing my patience with all of this, and I get on the phone with the guy. He doesn’t understand, and abandons the ride. We get another guy on the phone and walk down to 17th street to wait on the corner. He finally arrives and seems normal. I give Cherie $30 towards the ride. She refuses it at first but I press. She reluctantly takes the money. I kiss her good-bye and tell the driver he is carrying precious cargo. She tells me she’ll text me when she reaches her destination.

I watch as the car merges into traffic and disappears up the street. I’m relieved our UBER fails are over and that I got to spend twenty lovely hours with my girl.

Later I’m at peace alone at the batcave, sipping a vodka club, smoking a cig, and chatting on the phone with my sister.

Bliss!

 

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Cherie – Chapter 23 – Friday the 13th

“It’s all I think about. I have to masturbate everyday, just to take the edge off. I need you to fuck me.”

It was obviously Friday the 13th. I wasn’t even aware of it all day, until Cherie text me about it that afternoon. I sent her a meme of Jason Voorhees pushing people as he walked down an escalator. Cherie loves horror movies, so I knew she’d enjoy that.

I blazed out of work around 2:30, and walked over to the salon, to work until 8pm.  The night was uneventful, but it had been a bit of a hectic week. Last weekend was full of social stuff and this week had its share of challenges.

I was just looking forward to stopping at the store and picking up my favorite pretzels, (The little square cracker-like ones with peanut butter in them) two bottles of club soda, and a pack of cigs. I just wanted to disappear for one night and not talk to anyone. Just me and Netflix continuing our ongoing, intimate affair. Maybe I’ll even smoke a little grass.

Closing time rolls around and I’m just finishing up. Normally I would be off Saturday, but I agreed to switch with Trish so she could visit her family. So tonight I could chill, but I’d be back here by 10:30 next morning. I’ll take what repose I can get, now that I’m back to working sixty hours a week between the two jobs.

I’m getting my coat, and I get a text from Cherie. “What are you doing?” I am about to pick up the trash to take it out, when I see a woman standing out in the dark hallway.

It’s Cherie! I am shocked and surprised. She’s all bundled up because it’s cold outside. But shess wearing a white headband, and her glasses. I notice that she curled her hair. It’s a tangle of shining ribbons of coal. She looks like a sexy librarian. “What are you doing here?”

“We talked about this last weekend.”

“We did?”

“I mean, I think we did. I can get on the train and go back if you’re upset.”

I grab her and kiss her. She tries to turn away from me, but I know she’s just teasing me. “You’re not getting back on any train. I’m sorry, I just need a teeny bit of heads up, that’s all, dear.”

Well, it looks like of instead of sitting in a chair getting drunk with my two favorite mistresses, (Vodka & Netflix) I get to spend the evening and morning with my very real girlfriend! Great, unexpected way to kick off the weekend. I’ll chill tomorrow night after work.

We get back to the bat cave, and thankfully, daughter Lorelei isn’t home. I lock the door and hit the flashlight on my phone, and lead her back to my bedroom.

There is some small talk, but the inevitable is going to happen. When I say “inevitable,” I mean “training for the sex olympics.”

I’m getting better at this. When I was with Annabelle, Our relationship was so fractured and disjointed due to her personality disorder, I never knew what was going to happen next. Just a confused soul. (See: Annabelle – Guy Walks Into a Bar) But with Cherie, everything’s cool. She’s a calming force in my life and incredibly grounded in her sexuality. Out of every woman I’ve ever met, she is truly the best. Sexuality is all in the biggest sex organ of your body; your mind. Her head, heart, and bod are all correctly aligned. She’s comfortable with her vessel, and makes it sing.

And I love playing a Stradivarius.

She says she misses me sexually when we are apart too long. “It’s all I think about. I have to masturbate everyday, just to take the edge off. I need you to fuck me.”

Cherie is a nymphomaniac, but very loyal. She loves sex, but isn’t reckless with her mind and body. I really couldn’t have created a better girlfriend.

I’m not going into what happened in my bedroom. This is a dating and relationship blog. Things got hot and passionate till about midnight. We woke up at 3am, (or she woke me up) and some more magic occurred. We both slept again until 6:45, and more fun ensued. Cherie is a sexual animal. She’s really a good match for me. I’ve never met anyone like her. I’m just glad that at my age I can keep up with her and leave her satisfied.

The great thing is, shark week is over, and the stress and mess are gone. It’s winter. She’ll be going back to school next week. She’s only working the one job now at Children’s Hospital. It was Friday the 13th, and a pretty black kitty crossed my path. Nothing but good luck.

Our time together is limited, due to our busy schedules. I want to take her to things; like dinner, movies and events, but right now a few hours is all we have.

And we celebrate and share it accordingly, with our most precious possessions. The only thing we came into this world with…

Ourselves.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pmEST.

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Cherie – Chapter 22 – Shark Week – Part III – Shoes & Scarves

Alright, don’t panic. I didn’t get Cherie pregnant last night during Shark Week. Although she did say a few things last night that shook me up.

  1. It only takes one sperm…
  2. I always wanted a girl…
  3. My husb…

She assured me she was just kidding about the first two. She’s made it very clear to me that she doesn’t want anymore children. But those sort of references always rattle me to my core. But in regard to the third one, she was telling me a story last night, and that’s how she almost slipped to refer to me. I called her out on it, and made it funny. She laughed and was a little embarrassed. I thought that it was cute. Does she want me to someday be her husband? I do love her. Time will tell. Let’s see how this romantic journey plays out.

We head out into the snowy day. It’s not that bad. Pretty flurries, and some snow on the ground. But we’re on a mission. Breakfast was amazing. We didn’t get the special, but it was worth it to spend some extra time in bed together.

You know, when I’m with Cherie, she becomes more beautiful to me every hour I’m with her. I don’t get to see her all of the time. Michelle I saw every day. Annabelle, was a forced companionship to make it work. But with Cherie, I’m denied her presence most of the time. Our schedules and the distance keep us apart. But it’s working! When I’m with her, I’m at peace. Not a euphoric happy that I felt with the last two. Just a satisfied feeling that I’ve never felt before. I haven’t had to change at all with her in my life. I’ve gone good and bad in the last two relationships, but I do what I want in this relationship and most of all…I get to be me.

The real me.

To a point. I smoke, and drink and live my life down here in the city. Working two jobs, moving a business, writing a blog that you’ll one day binge on Netflix. That’s the difference here. I don’t have to be patient and fix the girl I’m loving. I don’t have to stop being me, and transform into an idea. I don’t have to be frustrated, angry or disappointed. I thought that was part of being in a relationship. My parents were that.

All of my relationships have been fucked up. There’s always something missing.

A disconnect. I loved them, but it was always hard. I just thought it was always supposed to be that way. I guess that’s why Michelle went back to Delaware Dave. She did it to save herself. Work on your health. You can’t do that with Phickle. He’s all about joy and vice. It’s fun, but it won’t sustain a relationship. Annabelle was in a totally different child-like, confused part of her life. I don’t even know why I thought it could be anything. It’s just ashes blown off the edge of an old table.

I don’t think we’ll always be at a distance. But I’m not going to do anything to change it now. It’s been three months and I have zero stress or confusion about what this is. Sometimes I’m amazed that this ripe, young, fit beauty really loves me. I know she does. I love her but there’s always an imbalance in every relationship. it’s not a bad thing. It just is. Somebody loves somebody more than the other one does.

Think about it. That’s you. You’ve been there, or you’re there right now.

I love Cherie. She’s young, beautiful, smart, super sexy, and a chill girl with an even temperament, and a great sense of humor. What more could any man want? Nothing. She’s great, and I’m blessed to have her in my life. Sometimes I think of myself and God. I feel like I’ve spent all of my luck and good fortune tickets. I punched every hole in my joy ticket.

Then I think of karma. What if I did something to deserve one more twenty-six year old baby, but she’s the right one? Not a project, but a lovely young woman who has suffered. Worked ten years at MacDonald’s. Has been a mother for the last six years. Medical Assistant at Children’s Hospital. Works at a pediatrician’s office. Tons of hours. getting her degree in neuroscience. Next stop, medical school. End game: Doctor.

But the karma. I haven’t done anything extraordinary since, Michelle. Why have I been granted this maiden?

To love again.

Why do I get to go again?

Then it came to me. February, 2015.

Lorelei came to me. The lead in the school play. The A-B student. The quiet, calm force torn asunder by her mother’s madness.

“Daddy, please. Can I please come live with you? I can’t take it anymore. I have to get out. I’ll sleep on the floor to get away from her.”

There it is. I have entered into and exited bloody from many relationships in my short life, but I got a “Get out of Jail Free” card from God. I rescued my daughter from the clutches of the gargoyle and God gave me another one.

Cherie.

Cherie loves me more than I love her and I know it. But maybe she doesn’t love me more and only loves me differently than the way I love her.

 

We enter Kids Foot Locker and look for some sneakers for kids. Lorelei is twenty and it’s been a long time since I thought about buying shoes for her. But Cherie’s family is young.

My family is slowly sliding down destiny’s rainbow.

There are walls of footwear in these places. I would never go to a store like this. Payless is how I roll in regard to fine footware here in Philly. I am blown away by these prices. There were $100 little baby sneakers in there! Walls of them!

Cherie was very thorough in her search. She finally decided on two terrifically expensive pairs of shoes for a couple of kids that will grow out of them in half a year.

We step out of the store and the snowfall seems to be getting worse. I tell her I know of a retail street cart at the corner of 12th and Chestnut that has the scarves I need. There’s Pollyanna party at my new company. If you ever have to buy a gift for someone in the fall or winter in Philly, buy a street scarf.

Super soft. Silky. That’s how I would describeit… cashmere. But I’m describing these Burberry novachek knock offs that look and feel great for about six bucks.

We trudge over there. The snow is getting colder and meaner. The flakes now feel like cold needles on our tender faces.

Philadelphia is a bitter and grey place today.

We arrive at where the cart is supposed to be but it’s not.

Cherie is not thrilled.

She wanted to buy a hat and some gloves. I tell her I have an idea. I cut South through Midtown Village. We enter at the earliest point to get into the subway.

At least I have baby out of the cold!

Suburban Station in the winter is a den of homeless people. It’s especially frosty out tonight so, we have a packed house full of walkers right now.

I find this subway retails store that carries everything. I get the scarves I need, and Cherie lands her gloves and hat. When we leave the store, I want to keep Cherie underground for as long a possible, because it’s now an ice storm out there.

We’re walking down this long hallway, and I swear to God, the urine stench was so bad, I actually started getting angry. Cherie wanted to turn back, but I told her she’d freeze her sweet black ass off if we were to back track. (Just take out the word ‘black’ please…)

As we’re walking down the hallway of the walking dead, I turn to the right and there is a woman with no pants on. This poor thing is changing her clothes in an alcove under 1601 Market. Cherie, chides me for staring, but I have to explain it to her. If you saw nudity in Playboy, you’d be expecting it. It’s good, but there are higher levels. If you were walking through a train station and you saw a real naked lady, it would feel different, right? It’s a bit of a shocker. As bad as she is, you still saw it and got a story out of it.

I knew this would happen. I created phicklephilly and now we are one. My art is imitating my life and my life is now my art.

We walk back through center city to the house. Her giant back pack is there. The entire walk home was a grueling trudge with snow biting our faces the whole way. We chill for a bit and dry out at the house. Lorelei texts me that she is stopping home between the double she’s working at the restaurant.

“That was nine minutes ago. We should go.” There has been very little exposure for my current, I wanted it do the opposite in this relationship. We are literally in the vestibule of my building, and Cherie says, “How do you open this door?”

I look through the glass and on the other side of the door is Lorelei. Cherie is trying to operate our impossibly tricky locking system. “You’re about to meet my daughter.”

Lorelei is surprised to see me. Probably even more surprised that I’m standing with a pretty black girl. I fumble over my words. “Hi honey. I got your text about stopping home between your double shift. This is Cherie. I’m going to walk her to the train. We just had to pick up some stuff. She doesn’t think anything. My daughter knows I’m friends with so many people in the city and they’re all different races. It’s not like she caught us in the saddle.

We head back out into the snow. It’s really going. I think about how I haven’t told anyone about Cherie. It’s not because of the age difference or the race. That’s nonsense. But for the first time in the last decade, I’ve not posted and shown off what I’m doing. I don’t know why I did that. I guess I’ll figure it out. There are no pictures of Cherie and me. There are no posts about us going out. This love belongs to us. It’s private. Who gives a shit about the rest of the world. Let them look into their own lives. Show all of their greatest hits on all of their trips. Stuff and vacations tell me they are empty. Because when you are calm and happy, you don’t want anything. The best things in life are free.

It’s really true. Everybody wants that. But love is elusive. But what is even more elusive  is people’s ability to go out in the world and open their hearts. Love and sex is all around you. Just relax, smile and go forth and be yourself. They’ll find you.

The most beautiful butterflies I have ever caught have been wonderful. But I never had to pick up my net to catch them. They flew right into the flame.

I’m not worried about Lorelei. She doesn’t give a shit about what I do anyway. As long as she can work, collect her allowance, eat her vegan food, and see her boyfriend, she’s cool.

We cross the street, avoiding the traffic on the street. “Where are we going now?” Cherie says. “I’m calling an UBER. We’re not walking back to Suburban Station in this mess.” “I’ve never taken an UBER.” “You’ll love it.”

We arrive at 16th and JFK and hop out. I take her and lead her down the stairs back into the subway. I take her to the platform and wait with her. We’re standing there and the train roars into the station.

I’m back where I began friday night. But there has been so much joy. I’m standing there satisfied. It’s obvious I ‘ve been satisfied sexually. But there’s a certain feeling you get when you’re with someone you love. You don’t want anything else. You’re good. All set. I’ll miss her, but she has to go. She has to get back to her son, work, and school.

I stand on the platform until she leaves. I can see her at the window. The conductor shouts. The train hisses to life and begins to pull from the station. Our eyes meet. She smiles, waves and blows me a kiss.

I do the same. Until next we meet.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 21 – Shark Week – Part II – Blood in the Water

“It’s okay, I can always tell how you feel by your eyes.”

I’m standing in Suburban Station, and my lady steps from the train. We embrace. I’m happy to see her. It’s cold out, so we stay underground as long as possible. I ask her if she’s hungry. She had mentioned in a text that she liked salmon, and if baby wants salmon, then salmon it is.

But she says she’s fine. She says she’d just like to lie down and rest after her busy week.

We make the painfully cold walk back to my house. I feel like I should have held her longer. Kissed her when I saw her. But I did nothing. Just a hug like and old friend. I’ll think about this.

“I’ve thought about this and I’ve also spoken to Cherie about it. I apologized to her for not being a little more intimate when I greeted her at Suburban Station.

She said, “It’s okay, I can always tell how you feel by your eyes.”

Ok. Let’s hold it right there. That’s a landmark statement. She’s already learned to read me. That’s really perceptive. I like that she sees me on that level.

We make it back to the bat cave. We go through the triple lock doors, the vestibule and into the hallway. There is a curving stairway up to the apartment. I penetrate the lock and we’re in. Lorelei’s stuff is usually everywhere a little bit. But every time I have brought Cherie, she never notices anything about the apartment. She never says anything about the place at all. Nothing. No decor, or how old it is or anything. I bring her in. The apartment is always dark. I hit the flashlight on my phone. and I tell her to follow me.

Watch your step. You’re in Rittenhouse. The building is one hundred and thirty years old. She never says anything. I take her hand and tell her to follow me. I flick on the bathroom light as I approach my bedroom.

I hit the switch and my bedroom and it is bathed in warm yellow light. I walk to the windows. I draw the blue drapes. I have these new drapes in my bedroom. It’s weird. It’s like Sinatra is coming to play at Caesars, so we need to redecorate the place because the chairman of the board is coming home.

Once I started dating sweet Cherie, I went to town. New sheets. (Dude. You have to) Curtains. (I know they are useless but they look cool) cleaned the whole cave, top to bottom, candy, candles, blankets so baby is happy and doesn’t get cold.

Cherie smiles, and gives me that little glance that tells me so much.

I take her coat and she drops her bag. She sits on the bed. “It’s so nice to be here.” She lays back. I begin removing her boots. Then her jeans. Her beautiful brown legs are slowly revealed to me.

We get under the covers and slowly during kisses and “I love yous” the rest of our garments are removed.

Cherie had made it clear to me days ago that there would be no swimming in the water during shark week. I told her I’m okay with all of those things, but she was adamant. I don’t have a problem with that. I respect her wishes and her body. I’m just happy to be holding her and kissing her full ripe lips at this moment.

But I know how Cherie feels about me, and how much she loves sex. Being the most sexually charged woman I’ve ever met, I think it’s going to be harder for her to hold up her end of the deal than me. But I will do whatever she wants. I actually was looking forward to taking it easy with her this weekend.

Instead of the usual, “It feels like I’m training for the sex olympics every other weekend” But I did make a bet with my buddy Church the other day. He said intercourse would happen during shark week. I told him I wasn’t going to push the issue, but I would offer an option.

So Cherie and I are in bed, and wonderful things are happening. I can tell that once we begin any physical contact with each other, sparks begin to fly. I tell her I have a dark brown towel. I can put it under her on the bed. We can turn the lights down, or off if she likes. I will not look down at any time. When the act is complete, I will cover up, and go to the bathroom to clean up. She in turn can pick up the towel and hold it against herself and go to the bathroom right after me.

She agrees. The sex as always, is glorious. We both keep to the agreement. It works out really well. My lady’s dignity has been retained. Nobody has to think a murder was committed in the bathroom.

During our time that evening, she does follow through with what she said she would do. There were times she was very active with me and I just laid back and enjoyed it. You never want your woman to give you the best oral you’ve ever had, because that would mean she has had a LOT of practice. But Cherie does it not like it’s a job that has to be done to please her man. She performs it like she truly loves doing it.

It is exquisite.

We’re all normally pretty good at things we like to do, and Cherie must really like doing that to me.

Instead of the crazy marathon sex every two or three hours this time, we actually have some fun and then get some sleep. I’m very pleased by this evening.

It’s just nice to sleep next to my beloved.

The next morning, Cherie gets the towel from the bathroom, and folds it a different way so we can go again. We do and it’s fire. I love morning sex. Just good raw energy. Snow is falling outside as the temperature rises in my bedroom.

After a bit we decide to get up because there are things to do. First order of business is to take this girl out to breakfast. I’m always ravenous for breakfast after a night with my Nubian queen.

While Cherie is in the shower, I get dressed and make the bed. For two years, my bed has been nothing but a place of sleep for me. Now, it’s once again a gateway to the love and magic we make.

 

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Cherie – Chapter 20 – Shark Week – Part I

“I’m a man alone on the platform of life. Waiting for his girlfriend. The latest model. My newest love. The next one.”

I finished at the salon on Friday night. I text Cherie to see where she was in the travel process. She’s on winter break so there’s no classes for the next week or so, but work and life have been the usual grind. The holidays, raising her son, school, and two grueling jobs are taking a toll upon her health. She sometimes leaves one job and goes to the other one just to keep the machine rolling. She sometimes works twenty-eight hours straight without sleep between Children’s Hospital and the pediatrician’s office.

Cherie texts me back and tells me that she missed the first train, but is currently on the next one from Norristown. It should roll into Suburban Stanton around 8:40pm. I look at my watch and see that it is only 8:20pm. It’s been a long day and an even longer week for me. Being back to working forty hours at the new day job, and running the salon four days a week have clocked me in at sixty hours a week again. I like having a morning purpose to get out of bed again, but the adjustment has been a bit of a challenge.

I lock up the salon and head to suburban station. The winter night kisses my face. She’s always been a Philly bitch.

Suburban Station this time of year is an absolute shit show. There are so many homeless people down there to escape exposure you can’t get a seat. The stench of urine makes me angry.

I see where her train is coming in and I head to that platform. I haven’t seen her since our fun early lunch at Devil’s Alley. That’s always sweet and civil. We love seeing each other and spending time together, but it’s really just a band-aid, to bridge the gap until we will once again share a bed.

I look at the schedule. On Time. Baby is coming…. (Sorry, “Arriving”) I know she’ll be all covered up. Heavy coat, boots, hat, and a scarf. But I know what’s beneath all of those layers. The heart of a lovely, woman.

I plan on asking her if she’s eaten, because if anyone deserves a super din, it’s this girl. She doesn’t eat enough or get enough rest.

If baby’s hungry, I’ll feed her.

I’m a man alone on the platform of life. Waiting for his girlfriend. The latest model. My newest love. The next one.

All of this work I’m doing now is tough. I adapt like a cockroach, and love to work so I know I’ll be fine, but the first two weeks through the holiday were a little cloudy. But I’ve adjusted and I’ll make it happen on both fronts. I’m not the tallest or the strongest man you’ll ever meet. I’m average looking in every way, but I have a kind face and an effervescent personality. Sometimes that, and real enthusiasm is enough. Making tons of money and surrounding yourself with a nice house, cars and stuff is a huge fat lie.

I once had a boss I really liked and one day I asked him, why everybody was so into food and stuff. He said it’s probably because we all can’t have beautiful sex all of the time. I was very close with him and he and I worked well together. He lived in NYC and I would walk him to the train at 30th street every night for months. He was a fish out of water in Philly, but a wonderful man and mentor. We all need mentors.

My father used to say.

But he was right. It was a simple question and he gave me his simple answer. I appreciated his candid answer. I miss him. But think about it… when you meet that special someone and ignition is imminent, it’s is a glorious feeling. You meet that person. There is a connection. There’s chemistry for whatever reason. It’s electric. You fall in love, have all of the dating, sex and love you can make, and then the inevitable happens. You get married.

You fall in love, and then you lock down a mate for whatever reason. It could be a good decision or the worst one of your life, but you make it. If it works, you live in domestic life for the rest of your days. Some of them work, some don’t. Some of us make good decisions and others make bad decisions. I make bad decisions all of the time. But I’m an artist stuck in the corporate world. I’m not an artist that can’t fit in with corporate America. I’m an artist that can swim comfortably through it. Usually the other fat fish that have dedicated themselves to working in business don’t like this strange fish. They’ll eventually get him.

It’s okay, because I know my spirit will always find a way to swim in someones warm pond. If it gets too hot, I can alway hop to another pretty body of water.

I’ll always work, and I’ll always love. I won’t stuff my life with tradition, stuff and lies ever again. I’ve been married, been a homeowner, had hot cars and tons of stuff.

None of it means anything. At the end of the day, you have to come home to yourself. You. Alone in your apartment. You. Alone in your marriage. Maybe you, happy in either one.

But I’ve found that humans are social creatures. We LOVE to be with each other. most people can’t sit in a room by themselves for very long without hating themselves. You need to be truly alone to understand yourself and who you are. You can’t do that around other people. You need to break it all down and get inside your own soul. It’s really hard to do, but some of us, a rare few actually like it.

If you get married, you fall in love, choose the best you can and go forward. House, mortgage, careers, kids, stuff… all of it. Everybody does it. I did it.

It was never a fit for me.

Did you ever notice that there are no great white sharks in captivity? There are grey nurse sharks, sand tigers, and whatever stuff they can steal from the sea to entertain you. An afternoon at the aquarium. But the Great White is at the top of the heap when it comes to marine predators. Little is really known about them. But having the greatest shark ever the star of Peter Benchley’s JAWS would surely be an attraction like no other that would bring Homo Sapiens in to your little circus in droves.

You’ve done it. You’ve kidnapped them from the sea, and what happened?

They all died. Every one of them.

Dead.

The Great White isn’t going to live in a fish tank and have you gawk at him. He’d rather die that give you the satisfaction of owning him. Imprisoning him. He needs to swim and be free.

Would I like to be in a marriage and be satisfied and happy? I don’t know. We all want to have that connection with that one person that completes us.

We do.

I may be the Great White, but even they find a lovely lady shark and go off and make little sharks.

But I’ve made bad choices and have tried to make that work, but it hasn’t. I know it works for some, but they have made such better choices than myself.

I am so happy when I see couples together making it work and are really are connected. It’s amazing to see. I know so few. But the ones that get it right are terrific people. I see it in my own family. All of my sisters have made good choices for their life goals and it’s worked.

But not me. I’ve tried over and over to fit into that and it just hasn’t worked. Like I said, I made bad choices. But what does that mean? I think I’m not meant to be locked into an American marriage model. I need to swim free. I need to be alone. The shark needs to swim.

Appreciate who he is and let him be.

The only upside of being in different relationships throughout your life instead of getting married and locking it down is this: You get to fall in love a bunch of times.

I know everybody falls in love. That shit is magic. I can’t think of anything on the Earth that feels that good. I’ve always known that beyond everything, love is the most powerful force in the universe. When you think about all of the crazy shit people have done in the name of love its mind-boggling!

I know marriage is a great way for people to really bond with your desired match. It yields family, children, grandchildren, joy, pain, life existence. It really is the foundation of our culture.

But what if you could have that feeling again that you had in the beginning, over and over again?

We all long for that initial passion. I know if you’re with the same person all of the time there becomes a familiar. There’s no way to sustain that drug of love.

The only way you could do that and get that feeling would to be alone most of the time.

Most of the populace are unable to do that.

Ever.

So, you meet someone, you fall in love and it doesn’t work out.

Again and again.

You’re sad. Most people have had their heart broken once. Some of us have had it shattered, shredded, tossed on the fire, and kicked to the curb. Because we loved too much.

We’re sensitive people who’ve spent their love dollars on the wrong people for the wrong reasons. Sometimes we end up broke.

But only financially.

We’re still the same people. Growing. Evolving into the future of ourselves.

But…We love again.

Again and again.

See how it works? You either choose once, and hope and works, and most times it does. If it doesn’t work you have to be brave enough to walk away. The consequences can be catastrophic but if you are truly not happy you have to go.

So, here I am. Carcharodon carcharias. Domesticity and cohabitation hasn’t ever worked for me. What should I do?

I should continue to evolve and grow as a person. I should be the best person I can be to the people around me. The shark needs to swim and be free. But maybe I can meet a perfect, low-key, smart, solid lady shark and make it work.

I think of her face. Her lovely eyes. Her smile. Her laugh, when she really loses it. My god, her thighs.

(Is that a Haiku?)

 

The voice over the intercom says that her train is coming in. I’m about to accept the honor of Cherie’s presence for the next 20 hours.

The platform is cold. I smell something. I glance down the track. A flash of light off  the wall. There’s a sudden breeze in on the platform. The air is fresh and clean. The train is pushing life into this sad terminal.

She is about to arrive.

My girlfriend. I once again have a girlfriend.

Oh, if you’re still wondering why this chapter was called, “Shark Week,” It’s because I’m comparing myself to a Great White shark. An elegant animal that’s meant to be free to swim, and can’t be contained into your idea of love.

But I’m trying, and I’ll be fine. I really appreciate you all getting it this week!

No. that’s not what this chapter is about. You missed the whole point. Thank you for reading this far…

Cherie is on her period.

I just got the text. She’s coming to the bat cave for the next twenty hours. There’s going to be a lot of sex and negotiation, but there’s also going to be a lot of blood…

 

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10 Things Everyone Should Know About Interracial Dating

So, I’ve purposely not written too much on this because it was just a part of my life (a very important part), but a part I like to very selectively share about. No one wants relationship vomit in their inbox…but today’s the day for a little taste. So if you didn’t know, I got a […]

via 10 Things Everyone Should Know About Interracial Dating (Pt. 1) — emily beth thomas

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pmEST.

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