She’s So Scandalous (steamy)

My thoughts turn to sensuous details. The look of desire that smolders in his eyes as we greet at the door.. the appraising look on his face as he takes in my clothes, my body, my cravings.

At 58 I am the sex kitten I couldn’t have even conjured up at any other time in my life. Relatively innocent when I lost my virginity in 1972. Full-time motherhood in my thirties. A gradual faint pulse awakening in my 40′s. Today, a deep throb pulsates slowly, heavily, as I listen to my iPod, sweating and gasping through a run/walk session on the treadmill.

The strain sends burning sensations up my calves and into the very core of my body. Velvet, dark chocolate, crisp sheets and the feel of skin against skin. The luxurious delights of a man’s touch. I imagine them as I listen to this song and force myself to keep running.

I’m thinking about the upcoming lingerie review and what it’s like to want to be sexy. And what it’s like to fully step into that and experience it fully. It means letting go, not thinking about the mundane or self-defeating thoughts women are prone to. Are my breasts sagging, what about the extra pounds, the scars and marks of birthing and life, will I satisfy him?

What does it mean to be sensuous at this age? Does it mean buying lacy bras or sexy nighties? Is it about having the right toys? Or is it a state of mind. The understanding of the pleasures of the flesh and a willingness to embrace them. Sometimes desire comes through exercise, just like a skill we work on developing. We set the mood, we play the part and gradually it begins to flow. We are that sensuous person and there is no more practice or discomfort involved.

How does it start? With preparation. The  body is primed and ready. The clothes picked with care. It may be a regular old pair of jeans, but the top is unbuttoned  to offer a glimpse of soft, creamy white flesh. The edge of black lace. As he walks by, my fingers caress his hair or touch his face. My body brushes up against his. I get quieter, softer.

Or maybe it’s a sassy sultry day and I show up in a lacy white short tunic with white lace-front boy panties. Barefoot, hair gently tussled. The kiss is teasing. I grab his lower lip and suck gently before letting go. I turn and walk ahead, swaying with intention. Feeling his eyes follow me. Smelling his urgency. We sit. I am across from him, legs casually propped up on the table as we pretend to drink our coffee. The panties reveal the curve of my ass, my nipples strain against the white fabric. I lean down to pick up an imaginary something from the ground, letting the deep v-neck of the blouse work for me. It’s fun. Powerful. Breath-taking to watch the results. It makes me feel scandalous.

He pushes me gently back on the bed,  clothes fall away and I shut my mind to everything but his touch. My body takes on a new form, it softens and opens. It welcomes the connection, flesh to flesh, raw emotion, desire, love.

Like a ripe fruit. Juicy, mature and willing. Eager to be devoured. This is the prime of my life. Scandalous. I love it, I want to shout it from the rooftops.

Scandalous.

 

When, Where and Why?

As I was rushing out the door to my part-time job this morning (yes, boss is away and I am blogging on her dime) I grabbed a red jacket out of my closet. It’s somewhat dressy so I don’t wear it very often and can’t recall when I last wore it. But, it would have been on a fall day…it’s not summer wear.

Pulled on the jacket, reached into the left pocket and pulled out a pair of panties!!!!  Heavens. I have no idea when I did that and why.

I do recall a summer night when I ran into a lover at the bar. He was with his buddies and I was alone, I think. We were sitting next to each other, as I know the whole crowd…but none of them knew of our connection. I was wearing a short, sleeveless black dress. I got up to go the rest room where I removed my panties. Returning to the bar I caught his eye and let him see what was clutched in my hand. Then I sat down next to him on the bar stool, crossed my legs demurely, and continued the conversation. He twisted and fidgeted the whole time. When he left , first I think, I got a text about my actions and the ensuing results. It was great fun! I loved his reaction and the sexual charge I got as well.

Those panties were black. These were nude and for the life of me I can not remember how they got there! Is this what old age is like?

Three Times A….. Lady?

Things come in multiples sometimes. A string of breakages After the laptop, fuel oil, coffee pot debacle, this weekend my modem died! The good news there was that Comcast gave me a free modem and free tech support! (Click here to supply music for this post, you’ll understand when you get to the end)

Last week was also the week that three old BF’s, partners, lovers…whatever, got in touch with me. The Joes stand out. One wrote to ask the name of the cafe where we first met. I googled it, something he could have done, and sent the answer. We emailed a bit, he let me know that the this-must-be-the-real-thing-Love is no longer. I haven’t pushed or offered anything up other than the appropriate condolences . The emails served to remind me that life in his world is just that…centered around his world.

The other Joe, with whom I had an 18 month relationship, found me on an IM session and surprised me with a chat request. I obliged, because I am nothing if not nice. We chatted a bit; he asked about my finances, my car, my children, my love life…but didn’t ask if I was happy or how my foot was doing. I could tell he’d been drinking as he eventually got snarky. I ignored it and most of his more personal questions. Then he began to get all soft and nostalgic, then he got crude. He said I would always be wet dream material (tiny violins and all). If we’d been together, he might have seen milk spurt out of my nose. It was hilarious, or as my granddaughter says “high-larious”. I got off line pretty quickly after that one, as I could see that things were rapidly deteriorating.  But not quickly enough to avoid that kind of arrogant, presumptuous question that only a man would ask… Are you wet? (and apologies for my/his crudeness). Really? Of course the answer was no, but why on earth would a man think that his compliment would be that powerful? It was a crude compliment at best and said more about him and his crap than about me.

Secretly, I’m in awe of the fact that ANYONE would consider this 57 year old, saggy-boobed grandmother* the reason for their nocturnal emissions.  As is often said, for all kinds of things, consider the source! I didn’t get that comment from a hot, trim sexy 45 year old. Or 55 year old for that matter…..

But, for a brief moment I was able to have a big laugh, enjoy the pathos, contrived or not, of the whole moment and delight in yet another topic for blogging.

 

 

Now, if this guy were saying it…. well my response might have been different.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* I like to joke about the saggy boob thing, but I do happen to believe that I’m attractive. Just to set the record straight here

I’m Too Sexy For…

6:50 P.M. Friday Night

On the Menu: Two Makers Mark w/ a splash of ginger and some double creme brie with Carrs wheat crackers and…

On the iPod: The Chairman of the Board, Taj Mahal, and Aretha Franklin’s Respect.

Discoveries abound. Today a man who I met in 2004 or 2005.. rockiest dating ‘relationship’ on the planet, wrote me. I’ve referenced him here.  I responded, knowing I was feeding the piranha.  After a day of emails, at 5:15 P.M. he suggested we make a ‘pact’ to love each other. He would move in with me, to help with my finances and.. I guess we’d live happily ever after!?  He started this proposal of sorts by noting that he was old (58) and tired and that I was “sexy but had “issues”…”" Be still, my beating heart.

Wow. I’m flattered. Actually, as I sit here now, contemplating the brie and the booze, I am chuckling at the sexy part (and conveniently ignoring the ‘issues’ bit). I’ve spoken with my life coach (tee hee) and have pledged not to respond to him. But,  you know.. there is a list of men who find me sexy-it’s odd. Modesty aside, because I’m like the little boy who just found his penis and I’m in awe and amazement over this discovery, here we go:

1. This one is kin to my sons and has lusted after me for years. I found that out  5 1/2 years ago. We’ve toyed with the idea but, it was ill-fated.

2. My ex’s childhood friend, wanted me but out of deference to the ex… Now on Wife #3 and I languish here thinking about all the what-if’s this one brings up.

3. Ex-boyfriend of 3 years- still wanting it and me I suspect and it would be demeaning to reduce that to just sexiness.

(note that I have never really thought of myself as the sexy type so this is a major, albeit bourbon-induced insight.  Though of late I’m coming to own this side of me)

4. He who can’t be referred to.. He’s never said I was sexy, but has expressed it in other words and actions over the years. He should be at the top of the list.

5. Mr. Lawyer- met through online dating-found me sexy, told me and then took off and maybe even contemplated switching teams. Yeah for my ego!

6. Current emotional basketcase.

7. Nice guy. We like each other and it’s a mutual sexy thing but no ‘couples’ chemistry.

I’m not necessarily bragging. And, I’ve left out a few to protect the innocent. And… what the FUCK!!!! How can this be true and I’m still hopelessly single? At my age I should rejoice in my sexiness, right? But, what about marriage material? Or even long-term “____” fill in the blank?  Or just a guy to pay my health insurance premiums (oh wait.. I just got that offer)  There must be something missing?

I’m finding it to be pretty funny this evening. Friday night and an evening full of potential for me. The type of potential that translates into a good movie, this fabulous brie, a few household chores with great tunes in the background or journaling. Tonight, for the first Friday in quite a while I’m content with this.

Do Your Panties Make You Feel Sexy?

According to an article I found on Current TV, women, on average,  own about 21 pairs of underwear. And, many claim that a ugly or ill-fitting pair of undies can ruin their day.  I know that panties that ride or roll and sag can be annoying, but I’ve never had a day ruined by ugly panties. You?  

Based on a survey of 1008 women, here are some fascinating tidbits about girlie panty wearing behavior:

• Almost half of women (47%) say they feel sexier and more confident wearing a nice or special pair of panties.
• 27% say their mood is affected by wearing an ill-fitting or unattractive pair of undies.
• 10% of women own 35 or more pairs.
• 65% buy neutral colors, with white being the most popular, followed by black and beige.
• Overall, 46% of women say briefs are the style they wear the most often. But women age 18-34 are more likely to wear the bikini style.
• 56% of women fold their panties; 27% just toss them in the drawer.
• 1 in 10 women admit that they will venture out of the house without underwear.
• Half of women have complaints about the way their underwear fit, with “wedgies” (30%) topping that list, followed by “doesn’t lay flat under clothes” (19%) and “not enough coverage in the rear” (14%).

I don’t know about you but on a given ordinary work type day, I’m all about comfort. That means briefs, beige or black and comfy. No thongs, no tiny little things that get lost when I sit down. Do I feel less sexy? No, I feel comfortable.

For dress-up and those anticipatory intimate moments, then I’m going for something sexy-normally black and somewhat smaller.

What about you ladies? Do the panties make the woman? If Bridget Jones could get laid in big droopy white granny panties isn’t there hope for all of us?

www.shopsmartmag.org