Sabrina – Good Morning

Sweet, lovely Sabrina text me this morning. It was a simple, “Good Morning.”

“Hi Sabrina!”

“Did I wake you? I need some positivity this morning.”

“No. What’s up, dear?”

“Just stressed about my job. The boss is never happy. I’m stressed about my ex. He’s pushing me to do things before I want to do them. I just feel like shit.”

“Can you meet for lunch today?”

Yes, I’m sure I can. What time and where?”

I had to work at the salon later, so I suggested noon at Locust Rendezvous. But she wanted to do a little later and not a bar that looks like a tavern. More of a lunch spot. (I should have realized this, based on her past with addiction and recovery.) I just wanted the $5 burger they have there. I secede and suggest Rachael’s at 12:30. She likes that idea much better. Racheal’s is my weekend breakfast spot. I love the food and the prices.

I get there and she appears shortly thereafter. She looks lovely as ever. We go up to the counter and order then return to our table. The place is quiet and this is the first time we’ve ever met outside of the salon. Technically our first date if that’s what this is.

Am I attracted to Sabrina? Of course. Do I care that she’s used heroin for 7 years and has been clean 8 months? No. I want her to be well and live a happy sober life. Do I care that she lived in a halfway house with Jill because she had to be sent there? Nope. She’s a nice lady that had a shitty marriage and got addicted to drugs. But she’s clean now and I like being around her. If I get bored or annoyed with her I’ll cool it. I’ve written about all of the crazy women that I used to hang out with and date in this forum. I only surround myself with good people now. I’ve cut off all of those people and I’m much happier and more calm for it. Jill, Kaja and Sabrina are all nice women that just made some bad choices, but I believe it’s never too late to change for the better. When I was with the crazies they were still in crazy mode. These good women have come out on the other side and hopefully for good.

At this point in my life I like spending time with people who are calm and nice. No more drama. I’ve had enough for two lifetimes. So many of the people who now live in the past and out of my head are just shitty people. I blame their lifestyle choices and their parents. I also love to work and my alone time, so I dig a lunch or a happy hour but beyond that…see ya!

Sabrina and I have a wonderful lunch. We’re chatting for the first time outside of the salon and we can really get to know each other. She’s telling me about her life and what’s been happening, but I don’t need all the details. We just glide across the surface. Marriage, divorce, kids, work. Just first date stuff for people who have ‘seen some things.’ Normally you should never talk about any of your ex’s on a first date, but I discover that she’s still married to her husband. I don’t care. They’re separated so they can date if that’s what they’ve agreed. Not my concern. She’s living in the house and he’s moved out. She’s gotten out of the halfway house because I’m assuming she did her time and stayed clean. Her husband is a contractor and she was a stay at home mom for 12 years. Oh, she has two kids. They live with Dad and she gets to see them on Saturdays. From what she’s told me he sounds like he’s being a dick, slacking on the house payments and utilities, and saying he doesn’t have any money. But Sabrina has access to all of the accounts. He’s not good at any of that, so she still has all the passwords. She can see that he’s spending hundreds of dollars out at the bars. So it’s all a pretty typical divorce mess.

In the State of Pennsylvania, if she stayed home for all of her twenties (She’s 32) The court will have to take that into account. He was the sole breadwinner while she had to forgo her career to raise the kids so dad is going to have to pay her alimony. So that’s good for her. He’ll also have to cash her out on the house, and divide up the assets. So it would really benefit her to begin divorce proceedings.

Recently the company she works for have cut the hours of some of the staff. Because some of their outdoor bars and beer gardens have closed for the season. This and her husband are really stressing her out. I’m afraid if she gets really stressed she could use again and then she’s back in a drug fueled world of shit.

“What are you looking to do?”

“I was thinking I could maybe get a job as a server.”

She knows that I have the hook up with a lot of the bars and restaurants around the city. She also knows that I’ve helped people get jobs. So she asks for my help.

“What are you doing tomorrow, Sabrina?”

“What are you thinking?” She smiles.

“I get my business cards for all of the bars and restaurants in the city. We get lunch at Misconduct. Then we go through the cards and I reach out to places we think are appropriate for you to work as a server.”

“I love Misconduct! I’ve only been there once! Yes! If you could do that and help me that would be wonderful!”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you!”

The sandwiches they served us were enormous. Delicious and fresh, but gigantic. I guess the average person that goes there and orders a sandwich wants to stuff their head with a king sized wad of meat. I want a sandwich like the ones my mom used to make. Something that has reasonable portions and I can get my mouth around to bite it. Not rip into a pile of meat like a jackal. I see that she could only eat half of her hot Rueben and I’m in the same situation with my roast beef. There is a half a sandwich left and it’s as big as one sandwich. I grab us a couple of to-go shells and we put our sandwiches in them and head out.

We walk east on Sansom and we’re chatting and come upon a homeless woman lying on a piece of cardboard on the sidewalk.

I bend down. “Would you like this fresh sandwich? It’s really good.”

The poor woman turns on her side and starts opening the container. “Thank you.”

We continue walking down the street.

“You’re my kind of guy.”

“That’s a woman lying in the street. I had to do it.”

“I could cry. I can feel my heart.”

We agree again on tomorrow and I tell her to take a deep breath and just know it will all work out. She hugs me and thanks me for everything.

I watch as she walks north on 18th street and admired her beauty. Wow. First date. She reached out to me and made it happen. Got to know each other and good energy flowed. Second date is tomorrow and maybe I can help her find a part-time job. Fed a homeless person and impressed her.

Sometimes all it takes to get the ball rolling are the words:

“Good Morning.”

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly        Facebook: phicklephilly

Advertisements

Murder Mystery Weekend – Chapter 16

We both laughed. I had spent almost all of my freshman year with a mad crush on Sheila. She resolutely kept me at arm’s length, despite the obvious attraction between us. Well, obvious to me, at least. Once I accepted her decision, we became solid friends. We could flirt, and laugh at ourselves.

“You’re good.” I said.

– “C’mon: tell me one secret. I’ll tell you one in return.”

– “Deal.” I said. This is exactly how these games work. You have to trade information to gain information. But which clue to give her? “How about this: there was a plot afoot, to rescue Redbeard.”

Sheila made a face. “Already knew that. Were you a member of Redbeard’s crew?” she asked, suddenly.

Shit – could she be the Falcon? I didn’t know whether to trust her or not. So I answered a question with a question with a question. “Are you?”

– “I asked you first. Oh, c’mon. Give me something, Colin.”

– “I know one of the letters in the code for the treasure map.” I said.

– “So do I.” she admitted. “But I’m not sure if I’m ready to trade that.”

– “OK.” I told her. “Here you go: The Falcon is aboard. One of Redbeard’s old lieutenants.”

Sheila mulled that over for a moment. “That’s fair. Are you the Falcon?”

– “No. Are you?”

– “No.” she laughed. “All right, you actually gave me something. Not much, but something. You can have this in return: the Scar is also aboard.”

I decided to play dumb. “Who is the Scar?”

– “You don’t know? The Scar is another of Redbeard’s lieutenants.” she said.

– “Oh. So we have a ship full of his former crew. Are you the Scar?” I asked.

– “That’s a separate question.” she replied, with a grin. “What will give me for the answer?”

– “A kiss?” What the hell; it was worth a shot.

Sheila laughed. “Nice try. You can get me a drink, though.” She held up her empty wine glass.

– “Am I allowed to go upstairs yet? I don’t think it’s been half an hour yet.”

– “So crack open another bottle.” she said. “They’re right behind you.”

We drank some more, and she fenced with me, alternating between flirty and coy. We also discussed the other players, and aired our suspicions of who was the most likely murderer. After a while, I decided to gamble. I showed her the pirate recognition signal.

– “What is that for?” she asked, intrigued.

– “The recognition signal for Redbeard’s crew. It’s how they’ll know each other.”

– “So you’re one of them?” said Sheila.

– “Craig showed it to me earlier, and told me what it was.” I answered. This way, Sheila could not be sure: she might think that I was not a pirate. But I could tell that she was very pleased with that piece of information. For one thing, she asked me to show her the signal again.

– “Alright, then. I’ll give you something in exchange.” she said. “If you’re looking for the treasure, there are twelve letters to find.”

That was very useful. I had assumed that since I had one letter, that everyone else had one, too. Eleven of us. So there was an extra letter.

– “You still don’t want to trade letters.” I asked.

– “Not yet, Colin. I still don’t know whose side you’re on. But if I want to trade, I’ll find you.”

Both of us were caught by surprise when we heard the bell ring. Four times.

– “That was an hour?” I said.

– “An hour well spent.” said Sheila. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then we went off to our next stations. I was supposed to be in the crow’s nest – the deck outside the kitchen, overlooking the patio.

 

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=288

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

My Father – 1929 to 2016 – When The Ocean Met The Sky – Part 4

“Your body may be gone, I’m gonna carry you in.
In my head, in my heart, in my soul.
And maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both live again.
Well I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Don’t think so.
Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you get.
You get away from me.”

I’m a father.

 

I have Lorelei.

 

She is the absolute light of my life. She lives with me. I never lie to her. She’s been with me since she turned 18 because she could no longer survive in the hostile environment of living with her mother. I only lasted 7 years with that woman. But my daughter was a prisoner with her for nearly two decades until she finally escaped at the age of majority.

Dad….

Why would you create more drama around your death? Was your going not enough?

Was your LIFE not enough???

Were we not enough?

 

You and your fucking ring. You give me your fake college ring, your mistress’s high school ring and your dog tags.

I was looking through some of the effects that you left me. I didn’t understand the 1964 Northeast High School ring that was among the stuff you left me.

But upon closer inspection I realized last week while editing this mess, that you never attended Northeast High school.

1964?

I’m looking at that ring in my hand right now. It doesn’t fit on my finger. That’s a girl’s ring.

And then I saw the inscription.

EBR

Why did you leave this to me?

That’s Eileen Barbara Ried’s High School ring.

Who became Eileen Lentz.

The love of your life.

Yea, I know man. I know how all of that works. I get all of it.

That woman that makes you feel better than anyone you know in the world.

I’ve been there.

We never get to keep them, Dad.

They belong to other people.

We only get to stop in and love them for a brief period of time. Because guys like us are unable to do that.

Yea we’re alike in some ways.

 

I’ve accepted that about myself.

 

I met Eileen. Lovely lady. I get it. You and mom were a decision based on tradition. Eileen was your secretary that became the love of your life. Again, I get it. I’ve lived the very same thing dad.

You made me.

I remember you drilling me in the basement over my studies and multiplication tables and telling me I would never amount to anything. How I should never be a victim, but in that moment that’s exactly what you were manufacturing.

I was your victim.

I’m a child.

There’s nothing I can do.

You have absolute power. I can’t even fight back or contact the authorities.

I remember you said you would actually take my woman from me, because I would be such a loser, she would rather be with him than me.

I was 12.

Readers. I have been writing Phicklephilly for two and a half years. Writing has opened my mind and past to so many roads that have been long forgotten.

Think about what my father said to me.

I’m so awesome, I’ll steal your girlfriend because you’re a piece of shit if you don’t become what I want.

I can’t make this up. I know it’s the holidays and I wrote this after his death and I couldn’t bring myself to publish before, but I am going to say everything here.

It will be true and I need to do this.

 

Be a man of your word. Your word is your bond.

 

Dad… Listen to yourself. I’m an artist, a musician, and a writer. I have anxiety and depression. I made it into art and music and a successful sales career.

You broke me as a kid. I’ve been spending my life crawling up from that and being the low self esteemed over archiever, million dollar producer in everything I do.

Fuck you.

You never had an original thought in your head in your life.

I know for a fact you are just a collection of shit you read or things you heard from other people.

You’re data is good, but dude. For fuck’s sake, you could never relinquish your OCD power.

Let’s face it.

The Temple ring?

Really?

I get it.

You dropped out of high school and felt ashamed. You joined the Army. Awesome. But everybody in your whole life thought you graduated from Temple with a four-year degree. You went there to get your GED (That’s getting your high school degree) and you hooked up with my Mom.

Tim gets the 3 diamonds because he worshiped you. That’s what you wanted from your father but never got.

And you never got it from me, because you couldn’t possibly fail as a father to your son, but you did.

You gave me a lot of good, but the negative ran so close to the parallel of the positive it has always been hard to tell.

Think of how shallow you are. You’re so disappointed in your son that you pass your diamonds on to your grandson. Dude, for fuck’s sake. it’s so obvious. Your son is a loser. but you love your grandson who basically worships you and plays greatest hits with you so you’ll leave your dumb jewelry legacy with because you failed as a father to the son you never understood. The sin you were ashamed of. The son you beat like how you broke your wife with your words and deeds.

“After I gave you a licking I would go downstairs and watch TV and eat Breyers ice cream. It tasted like mud.”

Really dad? I’m in physical pain, terrified and crying in my bed reading comic books and you are struggling with your dessert?

 

FUCK YOU.

 

You left me your dog tags and your dog’s, dog tags. I don’t give a shit about any of that.

Why the fuck would I want any of that?

Oh, and that button with the picture of Barbara Sweetman. Why Dad? Yea, I know she was your last affair on mom in the 80’s.

Why do you have to leave this dead bird on my step?

I don’t give a shit.

You’ve proudly told me all about your affairs and frankly, I don’t even know why you ever married.

Probably for the reasons I did.

 

You simply thought its was the right thing to do at the time.

 

Republican thinking…. as you once said to me.

 

 

Don’t worry dad, I’m sure future blogs will be so much sweeter, but this one just came forth it being the holidays and all. (I wrote this piece in 2017 when I was still reflecting on your loss. I don’t feel this way now. I forgive everybody)

I continue to grow, and wonder why you never did anything after age 62 when you retired. You would have been awesome in a deli or a toy train store or a wine store.

Why did you just stop?

 

I want to keep the train rolling until I die.

 

I don’t want to end up parked in a station. (And I certainly won’t leave a dramtic note to my daughter)

 

I’m going to run this train until it goes of the fucking tracks.

 

I’m sure Mom enjoys the quiet away from you.

 

I know this may sound a little angry, but as you all know, nobody lives rent free in my head anymore.

I’m not angry at you. This post is a year old. I’ve forgiven everyone a long time ago. My mind and heart are clear. This piece just burst forth out of nowhere a year ago.

 

I just didn’t have the guts to release it.

 

This is also not a dig on my nephew.

 

He’s a fine boy and I love that kid.

 

And dad… at the end of this, I’ll say this. For where you came from, you are an amazing man.

I get it at my age. You did the best you could with what you knew and the tools you had.

I get it.

All is forgiven. The joy you brought to this family is greater than all of your sins.

 

Life is fleeting and fragile. Enjoy yourself.

 

 

Ambria – Chapter 16 – Atlantic City – Part 4

Sorry…. NSFW

Go here people…

https://lapetitemort17.wordpress.com/?p=562

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Dating and Relationship Advice – 7 steps for winning every argument with your partner

Arguments are an unavoidable part of life, and relationships – unfortunately, just because you know you’re right doesn’t mean everyone else feels the same way.

But although it can be hard to quell the urge to yell your point of view, it’s worth considering other, more effective tactics – as escalating the situation doesn’t help.

According to experts who spoke to phicklephilly, there are certain methods that ensure you win an argument every single time – and they don’t rely on covering your ears as the other person speaks.

 

1. Recognize that the point of an argument is to better understand the other side

According to marriage therapist Marissa Nelson, the goal of an argument is to leave with a “renewed sense of understanding of each others’ needs” – and not just to vent your frustrations.

As long as you and your partner are not arguing just to argue, the argument arose because you are not understanding each other.

But rather than blaming this on your partner’s inability to listen to anything you say, focus instead on the issue at hand.

And whatever you do, don’t attack your partner’s character in the process – as Nelson said arguments should never be a “character assassination.”

 

2. Ask questions to better understand the other perspective

Jay Sullivan, the author of “Simply Said: Communicating Better at Work and Beyond,” says asking questions is a fool-proof way of winning an argument, as it gives us a better understanding of our partner, rather than just relying on our own assumptions of how they are feeling.

And this questioning actually transforms the argument into a problem-solving discussion – so don’t forget to ask questions the next time your partner brings up your inability to put the toilet seat down.

 

3. Use direct language

Communication is also key in relationships and especially in arguments.

To ensure that your point isn’t getting lost amidst a mess of other unrelated grievances, use direct language, according to Susan Pease Gadoua, a couples therapist and co-author of “The New I Do, Reshaping Marriage for Sceptics, Realists, and Rebels.”

In order to do this successfully, you must tell the whole truth – because “until each person can admit where they truly are, they will never get their needs met or resolve the fight,” according to Susan.

As much as you wish your partner could read your mind, they can’t.

 

4. Avoid saying “but” or “however” after the other person tells their side

According to Sullivan, argument-winners avoid using “but” and “however” whenever possible during an argument, as it actually communicates to the other person that you don’t really care about their position.

He suggests using “and” instead, which sounds more positive and can add to the conversation rather than detract from it.

“I love you but…” does sound a lot worse than “I love you and… “

 

5. Monitor your tone of voice and body language

It can be difficult to keep a handle on your emotions and maintain a neutral manner, especially in a highly emotional situation.

But according to Nelson, monitoring these emotions is integral to winning an argument – as “it’s not just about what you say but how you say it.”

In order to keep your wits about you, take deep, slow breathes and speak with “intention.”

 

6. Listen, don’t persuade

Asking questions that begin with “why,” “what” and “how,” is also important, according to Sullivan, as it forces the other person to talk and you to listen.

And because the goal is to turn the argument into a productive discussion, listening and understanding the other person is necessary before a solution can be reached.

After all, conflicts are typically resolved with discussion, whereas “in an argument, the goal is to win, and too often, that results in two losers.”

By following this advice, you’ll actually win the argument – even if you are the only one that realises.

 

7. If you do say something out of line, apologise

“I’m sorry you feel that way” is not the same as a genuine apology – and argument-winners know that.

Holding yourself accountable for the things you say or do is important, and proves to the other side that you are taking the matter seriously.

If you do have something to apologise for, it is better to own up to it and say you are sorry.

And don’t worry if you and your partner argue – according to a study conducted by the University of Michigan, arguing can be good for your health.

 

Was this helpful? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this subject!

 

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

Facebook: phicklephilly        Instagram@phicklephilly        Twitter: @phicklephilly

Cherie – Chapter 26 – After Class

“Do nice girls let men touch them like this?”

I was working at the salon on my usual Friday night. Cherie was due for a visit. I haven’t been with her intimately in three weeks! We had a nice lunch last time she was in town, but lunch is certainly not our favorite part of this relationship. We just passed the four-month mark and things are rock solid. It’s basically been smooth sailing since I met her. I’m definitely not accustomed to that in my relationships. It’s just that our schedules are always conflicting. Me with the business development gig at the institute, working at the salon, and building and moving the salon to a new location in one of the best spots in town. Cherie, with classes, studying, working at the hospital and most important, raising her son.

I was closing up when she walked into the salon. Always a sight for sore eyes. She’s all bundled so all I can see is her sweet face under her hat and coat. I come from around the counter, and give her a much-needed smooch. I’m very happy to see my love. She’s such a trooper for always coming down into the city and spending time with me. She always has a lot going on but leaves whatever that is back in Pottstown. Like I always say, we are both givers, and neither of us really want anything from anybody. We just want to live uncluttered, productive lives. It works out well, because without any demands it allows the relationship to grow and flourish.

Achilles has been in and out all day, picking up things and taking them over to the new salon. We’re about to leave and she hears someone coming up the stairs. It’s 8:25 now, and it’s rare a client will roll up that late after closing to try to weasel a tanning session out of me. Achilles comes blazing in to get stuff, followed by his fiancée, Sharon. (See: Sun Stories – Achilles – 2015 to Present – The Bronze God)

If Sharon is with him, it’s usually because she wants to do a tanning session. One of the perks to being the mate of the owner of a tanning salon, you get to tan for free! So as he’s walking by I say, Achilles this Cherie, he says hello and keeps going on to whatever mission he’s on. I send Sharon into her favorite tanning bed and head out with Cherie.

We walk out into the cold night towards my house. We have a playful relationship. We’re always teasing each other in a fun way when we’re together. I think it lies in the thin veil over our mutual desire for one another. It’s been three weeks, and desire’ s been building.

We get there and head back to my room. I light a few candles and put on some music. Like any woman, she excuses herself to the bathroom. It’s almost 9pm and been a long week. I sit down at my desk and actually write the header for this chapter. Oh, the irony… Art imitates life, imitates art.

She’s been in the restroom, but I’ve been raised in a house full of women. Three sisters and my own daughter. Ladies need a lot of time in the bathroom. But what happened next blew my doors off.

Cherie walks out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I’m sitting at my desk looking at my computer. I hear her say this:

“Hey, Mr. Dorian. I was told to come to your office.”

I look up, and her hair is in a ponytail to the side and her glasses are off. She’s wearing a crisp white blouse with some sort of little, navy blue cross tie at the collar. Her skirt is a blue and white plaid pleated skirt. She has white knee socks on and is wearing navy blue Mary Jane’s with a thick heel. She brings a purple lollipop up to her full lips and sucks on it.

I’m blinking and my eyes are nearly watering from this ripe schoolgirl standing before me. I must play along.

I love this!!!

“What’s your name, again dear?”

“Riley. Riley Thomas.”

I loved that she’s picked names for us. I must make this work. It’s a brand new day.

“Oh yes, that’s right. Miss Thomas. What infraction have you committed this time to be sent to me?

“Dress code, and I mouthed off to Ms. Simms.”

“Again? What’s the dress code violation this time?”

“Says I wear my skirt too short.”

I look her up and down. The skirt’s hem is high on her firm brown thighs.

This is so good.

“Well that and the mouthing off, you’ll have to stay for detention, and we’ll have to send a note home to your parents.”

“Couldn’t you just give me the note and I can take it home to them?”

“Come on, Riley. We both know you’ll toss it.”

“Please, Mr. Dorian. My parents will kill me if I get in trouble again. Please don’t have that letter sent home. I’ll do anything…” She sucks on her lollipop and lowers her gaze at me.

And there is was. An open invitation to take her. I decided to keep the game going a bit longer. It was all so deliciously decadent. I get up from my desk and walk over to the windows and close the curtains. I can’t have my neighbors thinking I’m doing something illegal. I walk very closely past her and close the bedroom door as if closing and locking my office. I sit down on the edge of my bed. She comes over and asks if she can sit next to me on the “couch.” I allow it and she sits very close to me.

“Please, Sir…”

“I suppose we can come to some agreement, Riley. Are you a nice girl?”

She closes in. “Sometimes.”

I place my hand on her knee and run it up her bare thigh. She moans and kisses my cheek.

“Do nice girls let men touch them like this?” I go a little further up her leg, which is growing warmer. I hear her breath quicken. She’s rubbing my arms and kissing my cheek and telling me how attractive I am to all of the girls in school.

Nice touch.

I get up and she’s still sitting on the edge of the bed looking like a bad little puppy dog. She’s really quite the good actress. I grab a thick throw rug from over by my radiator, and drop it at her feet. She looks at me.

“Get down on your knees, Riley.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it twice, young lady.”

She complies. She looks really authentic in this outfit. These are legitimate clothes. This isn’t some shitty Halloween costume. A lot of thought was put into this to make it seem real. Her performance pulls it all together. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes.

“Unbutton my pants.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s it. Pull down the zipper, and get my trousers down.”

She complies, and there she is on her knees before me.

“Okay…now the rest.”

Well, you can imagine what happened next. I’d love to give you the “blow-by-blow” of what we did, but phicklephilly is a dating blog not a sex blog. Maybe when the book comes out I’ll add all the graphic details. Our little role play was amazing fun. Cherie is such a sexually driven girl who’s up for everything. I love her for this. I never had a “normal” girl who was as hot for the action as she is. Normally chicks like that are bi-polar or just plain crazy. Sometimes crazy just translates into a dead lay. They’re all talk and then when you’re in bed with them it’s like committing necrophilia. But not my Cherie, she is deadly in the sack, and has now proven she wants some next level play.  I’m a willing participant with whatever she wants to try.

It can only get better.

So our little romp went on to midnight as usual. She was very satisfied with the results of our encounter. We collapsed into a restless sleep as we normally do. Her alarm went off early, because she had to work at the hospital Saturday morning. So she got showered and came out in her Hello Kitty scrubs for a day of rounds with the sick kids at Children’s Hospital. Quite a departure from last night’s outfit!

 

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Sun Stories: Sasha – Chapter 1 – My Number 1

Sasha came in and signed up one night when I wasn’t working. The college girl, Summer who works the nights I don’t did the intake on Sasha. (See: Summer – Night Shift Girl) A couple of days later Sasha strolls in to tan while I’m working and I thought my eyes would pop out of my head. Here is this slender stunner. Lovely raven hair and perfect features. Shapley legs and small bust. (Love that girlish figure)

So of course I’m chatting her up and placing her onto my mental list of favorite women who come into the salon. She’s definitely Top 5.

I originally entitled this piece “I love you” because this is a classic example of what inspired this blog. I’m always “falling in love” with women on a daily basis. All they have to be is cute and sweet. So it’s not really love. It’s just desire, and lust. (I changed the title because I don’t really love her.)

I love my girlfriend Cherie, not any of these hot chicks. They’re just little treats that swim in and out of my daily life. But I’m tantalized by them all and love the attention and thrill I get when I see them. There’s always new ones and ones that disappear and reappear throughout the season. It’s fun!

One day I come in to start my shift and Achilles says that some woman named Sasha left her watch in the room after she was finished her session. He said the watch was in the drawer under the counter and if she comes in, give it back to her.

He leaves and I open the drawer. I want to see what kind of watch it is.

Kate Spade. Conservative. Cute. I like holding a piece of Sasha’s jewelry in my hands. I grab one of our little towels and clean it up a bit and place it back in the drawer. Then I go one better. I call Sasha.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sasha, this is Charles calling from the tanning salon. You left your watch here.”

“Oh my God! Thank you! I couldn’t imagine where I left it! Thank you, Charles. I’ll be in tonight to get it. Thank you again!”

“No worries. I’m just happy we found it. See you later.”

 

I get a rush of joy that I was the one who got to call Sasha. It’s now as if I found the watch. I also liked hearing her use my name on the phone. Say my name, Sweet Sasha!

Later, when the salon is busy and I’m chatting with some of the ladies in the waiting area. We’re all laughing and giggling at something I said.

Sasha walks in. I announce her, and say: “…And here’s another thing I love doing. Giving jewelry to pretty ladies!”

I pull out the watch from the drawer and place it into Sasha’s dainty hands. So now there’s a connection. She thinks I’m the hero who found and returned her watch. It was always great seeing her lovely, elegant visage and chatting with this beautiful girl.

With great rapidity Sasha had moved from Top 5 to #1 .

But sadly, after a few months of tanning Sasha let us know that she was taking a break from tanning for a bit. We were sad that we wouldn’t see her anymore. (Even my co-worker, Summer likes Sasha and she hates nearly everyone.)

It’s been a few months now. I’m working at the salon last night when the phone rings. I answer in my usual upbeat, professional greeting.

“Hey Charles, it’s Sasha.”

I reply with surprise and delight using her full name. I’m delighted that she called. (Dopamine dropping!)

“How are you, Sasha?”

“I’m great! I’m thinking about coming back to do tanning again.”

“Wonderful. We’ve all missed you and would love you to return to our fine salon.”

“Can I still get that deal you offered me when last we spoke?”

“Whatever you want, the answer is yes!”

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, Charles.”

“See you then!”

Sooo….. my love is returning to me at last! Can’t wait to see her! Thank goodness I asked Summer to take her Saturday shift yesterday. I had nothing going on and figured why not be busy and make a few bucks? Can’t wait to see her!

She came in Sunday! So beautiful!

I was so happy to see her again. My baby is back!

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly Facebook: phicklephilly