In All Their Forms

Breasts are beautiful, no matter their form. They come in all sizes. Small, pert and perky. A large over flowing handful of voluptuousness. High and up thrust to the sky. Long and drooping towards the ground. Beauty in all shapes.

The slope below a slender neck rises into a round fullness. All sensuous curves and wondrous texture. Such round and heavy beauty with a dark peak. Soft to touch and sensitive to the fingertips. Soft sighs elicited from soft touches. Eyes closed to all but sensation.

Breasts, they serve such a vital part of life. And still hold a fascination for all through all ages. These orbs of sustenance. These spheres of love. These globes of captivation. Weapons of visual distraction for men and women alike. So obviously and beautifully begging for you to touch. 

Yet, as inaccessible as the stars in the sky. Unless you happen to have a pair in easy reach.

Beauty, it is everywhere. All one needs to do is to open your eyes and let them roam.

Ode to early an morning

The sun slowly rises over the horizon, marking the beginning of a brand new day. Mist rises from a dew covered lawn as birds begin to sing and hunt for those grubs and bugs that are unlucky enough to out so early. The roads are silent but for the sounds joggers getting their exercise fix for the day.

I notice none of this as I blearily throw back the covers and disturb the cat from his slumber. Stumbling through the house, narrowly avoiding tripping over him and careening into various walls and pieces of furniture, I eventually make it to the kitchen and its beautiful repository of caffeinated nectar of the Gods who are cranky in the morning.

Before I can make it to my personal nirvana, I must attend to the furred beast that is Sebastian. His insistent demands that I am evil and starving him must be addressed or I will get no peace. The hairy menace does not make it easy as he yowls and winds his way between my legs and sits in front of my feet as I retrieve his food and spoon some into his bowl.

The small beast is appeased, but not the beast within my own mind. It calls for coffee.
I would say that I keep my delicious coffee in a repository worth of its deliciousness, but I keep it in a utilitarian jar to disguise it from any who think to sip from my my fountain of alertness.

I lay out the necessary items. Filter jug. Mug. Teaspoon and sugar. Coffee jar and spoon. And Kettle.
The kettle makes its pleasant bubbling noises as the water boils within.
The filter jug sit on the bench, like an Aztec sacrifice, waiting for the ceremoney to commence. The coffee grounds are poured into the filter jug to await their fate. A click signals the preparedness of the water in the kettle.

The waterfall of hot water sends up a cloud of beautifully scented coffee steam.
My starved senses inhale and bathe in the wafting scent.
As the coffee steeps into the hot water I watch. Pushing down the plunger the coffee grounds are separated out of the sweet caffeinated nectar.
Another waterfall falls, but this time it is infused with coffee. 
Sugar and milk are added, finishing off this wonderful concoction.

I take the first sip and my day begins in truth.

Book Review: Pregnant by the Millionaire. By Carole Mortimer

* Warning: This Review is only for those who enjoy taking the mickey out of everything *

Basic Plot:

Nick and Hebe.

He's a millionaire who owns art galleries in Paris, London and New York. 

Hebe works in his London gallery. Their relation ship starts as, well they sleep together. He has a past tragedy that has made him keep all relationships with the fairer sex casual. She gets the “I'll call you” line from him after they have some fun.

When they see each other again they find out she's pregnant and he goes caveman and declares that they will be married and then he spends the next one hundred and twenty five pages thinking the worst of her.

Then there is the big revelation, all is well, they love each other and they have beautiful babies. Yay.

***

Okay, so I thought this book was a little silly. And maybe I am being a little too harsh on the poor university graduate with a steady job that she also enjoyed who then suddenly seemed to just wilt under her man's stern gaze, like a dying flower in and Australian drought, but i just kept thinking all the way through this book "What the frak, woman? Show some spine! Argh!"

Hebe is a university educated young lady of twenty six living in London and working in one of Nick's numerous art galleries. She is beautiful. In fact, she is so beautiful that Nick makes a reference to her goddess-like beauty. On the first page. In the first few lines.

They've slept together even before the book begins. I'd say fast work on his behalf, but it also has the added bonus of throwing you right into the drama. Well, actually some afterglow, then some sex, then the drama.

The drama begins the following morning when she thinks it'll be all idyllic and expects them to have a nice leisurely breakfast and then maybe continue getting their giggedy on. She's taken aback by his suddenly cold demeanour when he tells her that he'll call her and wants her to leave asap.

Seriously, what did she expect? She'd just slept with her boss!

We get to see Hebe telling herself that she is a modern woman and that she knew he wasn't going to call her anyway. It was just a one night stand. She's not hurt at all *little tear*. She spends the next six weeks moping like a girl who was stood up for the school dance, standing on the front verandah, wearing a really ugly puce dress with lots of bows and bad 80's hair. She has also been feeling a little off the last few weeks too.

Oh noes! She's ill? It must be the plague!

Of course Nick comes back into town and he has spent the last six weeks not sleeping with other women and trying to not think about Hebe.

And, of course, while he was doing whatever it is that owners of art galleries do (forgive my ignorance) he makes a shocking discovery about Hebe. And then when he gets back and confronts her with his shocking discovery, they make another discovery about Hebe. She's pregnant.

Gasp! Worse than the plague!!

Seriously, SAFE SEX people!! Practice it!!

Also, to make matters even better, to the other women that Hebe work with Nick has been with half the population of London, Paris and New York! The animal! 

And of course, both of them blame the other for Hebe's pregnancy.

“You're not on the Pill?”

“I didn't expect to fall into bed with you! You weren't wearing a condom!”

“I didn't think birth control was an issue!”

What are they? Sixteen? 

For an apparently such an independent and modern woman, Hebe seems to be lacking in the spine department. Nick then turns into a medieval lord and demands that she marry him, because to have a proper upbringing and be a real family it requires that the parents be married. 

Gasp Again! 

She cannot be thinking of having a child without a man to help her?? The shock!

I'm probably sounding a little sarcastic at this point about the whole family thing because this seems to be the quarter century or so of the broken home. Also, the fact that she was scared for her safety when she brought up abortion, he threatened to take the baby away from her if she didn't marry him and the fact that he kicks down her bathroom door just after she has taken the pregnancy test when she has said that she'd like to be alone, all lead me to believe he has some serious anger issues. I kept thinking “Quick! Get to the police!” but maybe I have it backwards. 

She did get the man that she had been secretly in love with the whole time he had been treating her like poisoned dirt beneath his feet, her pregnancy was fine, she had beautiful twins, and she was reunited with her long lost father and learned about the mother that she never knew.

D'Awwwww. It all worked out in the end.

***

o_o

A letter from a loving son

Dearest Mother,

I write to you far from the fast paced excitement of London. The bucolic delights of the country are slowly seeping into my veins and I have discovered a previously unknown interest in bird watching.

I do love to observe their lithe movements as they flit from branch to branch. The melodic calls as they search for mate and kin and the way their glorious feathers catch and reflect the sunlight.

I have also been learning about the running of the estate from our good Bondsman, Nielsen. The man is veritable font of knowledge and information. Yesterday I learned about crop rotation.

I was generously allowed an afternoon off by Nielsen and I spent it watching a pair of pygmy rainbow swallows. Nielsen tells me that they haven't been seen in the area for nearly twenty years. It looks like we'll have chicks in the new season.

Do not worry, mother, I will not spend the entirety of my letter to you extolling the virtues of crop rotation and bird watching.

The neighbours have also been extraordinarily welcoming. The Martinsons organised a ball just to celebrate my arrival. It was, to say the least, a most enjoyable evening. We danced and made merry well into the small hours of the morning. I must confess, mother dear, that I danced not once but twice with Miss Sarah Martinson. She finds my stories of city life fascinating as she has never been to London before.

Miss Sarah also has the most enchanting laugh. Do you remember the donkey that Farmer Jones had when I was a boy? Her laugh sounds sounds just like that donkey.

I plan to take her riding on the Greens tomorrow. I have organised a gig and I will be picking her up for a pleasant afternoon ride. I am hoping to convince her of my feelings.

I have spoken to her father about the seriousness of my attentions. He was hesitant at first as she is, after all, an heiress with a rather large fortune. And her age is also a barrier but I find her to be wonderful young lady with an enthusiasm for life.

I hope you will come and visit the estate, mother. The doctor did say that you were to come to the country for your health. I know how you love to be the centre of attention in London but, I do hope you can bear to part with your cronies and see the marvels that I, with the help of the steadfast Nielsen, have wrought here. And you might be surprised to find yourself with a new daughter in the near future.

Your loving son,

Eustace Abernathy  

A day in the life of a fictional character

The day started like any other day. The sun rose. Well, the planet rotated and made the sun seem like like it was rising over the horizon. I had reached the inn the previous evening rather late and I hoped I hadn't slept through breakfast. Downstairs, I was met by my pet, Peanut. I sat down to eat, but the innkeeper seemed reluctant to serve me.

I got fed up and got my food myself. The day was getting on and I wanted my coffee.

After this somewhat dilatory start to the day, we set off to the park.

The other citizens ran and hid so we had the grounds to ourselves. Peanut amused himself my chasing the squirrels. And damaging public property. 

I wasn't expecting to hear from Boss Therazine at all,  but I was startled by a rather insistent call from her. I had to meet her immediately. There was an emergency.

Dammit, I wanted the day off and the Boss gave me the creeps. She just floats there like a corpulent pustule of malevolence with her hulking minions looming over everyone.

Boss Therazine was worried about one of her couriers. The wolf girl hadn't checked in in two days. Well, worried wasn't the right term. She was more furious that the girl hadn't finished her deliveries and gotten back.  

I checked with my usual contacts. 

Mednaga didn't know anything. I had to leave before I opened my eyes and looked at her.

DoomHilda tried to eat me. She also didn't know anything.

I figured it was time for some fun. So I went plane surfing.

Back to work...

I searched.

And searched.

 And searched some more.

Then I got bored and, as I was close to my Inn anyways, decided to have some coffee.

The Innkeeper came out of the accommodations, screaming about huge spiders. I was never going to be able to enjoy my coffee. So many interruptions.

To cut a long story, well long, I found her. She was asleep.

Lazy bugger.