Banzai! (part 2)
by Czolgolz
[email protected]
Copyright 2000

Omi smiled and carried half of me back to the card table.  I was no longer tall enough to sit on the seat, he sat me right on the table.  I tried to win back my legs, but no such luck.  He was the better card player.  Soon I had gambled away my stomach.

Omi stood up and help up his sword.  He looked at me questioningly.  

'What the hell am I doing?'  I thought.  'Am I actually going to let this lunatic at me with a blade again?  Have I lost my mind?'

But I couldn't turn away.  Despite everything my better judgment was telling me, I couldn't stop now.  I wanted to find out what would happen next.  I nodded and closed my eyes.  I felt the swoosh of the approaching sword.

I opened my eyes.  To my surprise, nothing had changed.  My upper body still sat intact on the table, my legs on the counter across the room.  Omi wrapped his arms under mine and kissed me again.  I was conscious of him lifting me, but I didn't realize what had happened until I looked down.  On the table, like a strange piece of modern art, sat my stomach.  It was unmistakably mine, I recognized the middle part of my tattoo.  I looked down at what was left of my body.  I had nothing left below my breasts.

While Omi held me, I ran my hand along the severed area under my chest.  No lungs or heart, just the skinlike surface.  

Omi sat my uppermost part on the table.  The bottom of my tits now rested on its top.  He picked up my stomach and lovingly ran his finger along the tattoo.  I breathed in and out causing my belly to inflate and deflate.  He tickled my sides and I giggled.

Omi sat my stomach on Pepe's chair.  He then dealt the cards again.  Not surprisingly, I lost.  Soon I had been sliced from armpit to armpit.  My bare chest was moved to Bruno's chair.  I had expected Omi to take this opportunity to cop a feel, but he was a gentleman.  Well almost.  He did shake the chair with his foot, causing my chest to jiggle in a humorous way.

I was now a head and a pair of arms.  My shoulders held me together.  After the next hand he took my left arm at the shoulder.  He laid it on the table, just out of my reach.  I now had to manage my cards with just one hand.

The next hand was a shocker: I actually won.  "Hey, my luck's finally changing!"  I cried.  Omi seemed utterly dumbfounded, it was like he had thought I literally was incapable of winning.  I smiled smugly and waited for him to reattach my arm.  I was disappointed when I saw him toss something onto the table.  It was his watch.

"Omi!" I angrily yelled.  "I don't want your watch, I want something of mine!"

"Suit yourself," he said, took back his watch, and draped my shirt over my dissected stomach.

"You bastard!" I said, with a laugh.  Then an idea hit me.  While Omi shuffled, I concentrated on moving my lower half.  It was difficult, I had to get used to moving my legs in a different direction than my line of sight.  It was like driving a remote control car that I couldn't see.

Omi began dealing, he had not noticed my lower half getting up.  My legs stumbled and almost fell.  Finally I realized that they were easier to maneuver when I wasn't looking at them.

Pretending to concentrate on my cards, I managed to align my legs behind Omi's chair.  Without warning, I kicked him in the rear.

You'd have thought he'd been shot, the way he screamed and jumped up.  When he turned around and realized what had happened, he covered his face with his hands.

"Why you little..." he began, with no anger in his voice.

"Just wanted to let you know that no matter what you do to me, I'll never be totally helpless."  I started laughing.  It was ridiculous.  By all natural laws I should be dead, and yet here I was, in five separate pieces, laughing over some stupid practical joke.

Omi grinned at me from across the table, shaking his head resignedly.  He then picked up my severed arm and kissed its hand.  

We resumed the game.  I found that I couldn't keep my legs upright while I played.  It was like trying to walk and read at the same time.  I kept thinking that I was sitting down and would relax my legs, which would then topple over.  Finally I bent my knees and sat my legs on the floor, Indian style.

When Omi won my other arm, it presented a problem.  I couldn't really hold my cards anymore.  He tried placing my cards in one of my hands, but my arm no longer had any support to it.  It would either roll over towards Omi, revealing what I was holding, or towards me, planting my cards face down on the table.  

Finally Omi hit upon the idea of using one arm to brace the other.  By gripping the bicep of one arm with the hand of the other, I managed to hold the first arm upright.

I really don't know why we bothered.  All that was left of me was my head and shoulders.  I knew I didn't have a chance of winning, but hell, in for a penny, in for a pound.  Omi soon won my shoulders.  

As Omi leveled the blade at my neck, I had a thought.  "Wait!" I shouted, and jolted back.  At least I tried to.  My legs, stomach, chest, and shoulders all responded from their different locations.   My legs scooted on the floor, my stomach toppled over onto its lower back, and my shoulders remained stedfast.  My chest, however, began to fall off the chair.  Omi checked his blow.  When he saw my chest teetering on the edge of the chair, he reached out his hands to stop it.

I don't know if he planned it or not, but each of his hands found one of my breasts.  He gently uprighted my upper torso, his hands lingering for much longer than necessary.

The unexpected touch brought an unexpected arousal.  My nipples hardened, I shifted my legs uncomfortably.  I began to hope he'd touch me again, but he didn't.  He just stood there, looking at me (well, the part of me with the head) expectantly.

Then I remembered that I had stopped him from taking my shoulders.  "Omi, my hair."  It seemed like a silly, girlish thing to say, but at this point did it matter?  I enjoyed having long hair and I feared that if he sliced my neck, he'd cut through the long tresses than fell from the back of my head.  I wasn't sure he could reattach hair.

"Ah, good point," he said.  He then stood behind me, and tied my hair into a Japanese style knot.  Jesus, was there nothing this guy couldn't do?

As I was pondering this, I felt the rush of air that I had come to associate with the imminent stroke of his sword.  It struck with such force that my head literally flew off my shoulders.  Omi jammed his sword into the table and expertly caught my head in midair.  He held it by the knot in my hair, his other hand lightly supporting the bottom of my neck so as to be gentle on my scalp.

Omi looked into my eyes for a long time.  Then, placing a hand on each of my cheeks, he kissed me.  I wanted to fall into his arms, but the rest of my body was scattered all over the room:  my legs and pelvis on the floor, my chest on one chair, my belly on another, my arms and shoulders on the table.  I felt so helpless.  I was totally at this man's mercy
.
The strange thing was, I loved the feeling!  While my life on the streets had taught me to hate being in situations that I couldn't control, this was totally different.  I actually enjoyed having Omi in command.  I knew that, even though I was totally helpless, I was safe with Omi.  He'd take care of me.

Finally Omi pulled my head away from his lips.  "Rose," he said, barely whispering, "I love you."

"Oh Omi," I started to bawl.  I couldn't help myself.  Years of my hard, unemotional personality melted away.  For the first time I could remember I was truly happy.  I could trust, I could be aroused, I could love.  I could love!  "I love you too, darling," I replied through my tears.

Thinking back on this night, I think it was the fact that Omi had cut me up that allowed me to let go of my bitterness.  If I could trust a man to slice and dice me and not even hurt me, then maybe it was time for me to start opening up again.  If I could lay in front of a man, nude and totally helpless and him not take advantage of my state; well maybe he was the sort of man who I could always trust.  Maybe it was time to stop focusing on those who had hurt me.  To let go of the pain of my past and focus on the joy the future could bring.

Still holding my head in his hands, Omi kissed my tears away.  I was now laughing and crying at the same time.  My God, what a night this had been!  Sliced up, naked, helpless, and loving it!  And the night wasn't over yet.

Omi gingerly sat my head on the table, next to my shoulders.  He moved an errant strand of hair away from my eyes.  "Rose..." he began, "listen.  Um.  Would you like...I mean you said earlier.  Uh, you know, I don't want to come on too strong..."

"Omi," I finally interrupted, "I would love to come back to your place with you."

Omi looked so relieved I had to giggle.  "C'mon Omi, did you really think I'd let you take the ginsu to me while we're both naked and then refuse to go to bed with you?"

Omi looked awkward.  "Rose, I didn't want you to think that that was all I had on my mind.  I meant it when I said I loved you and I didn't want to ruin things by rushing you."

"Omi, I've never even let a man touch me for free.  I not only let you touch me, I let you chop me into pieces.  I can't explain it, but I know that I'm going to be safe with you.  That everything is going to work out between us."  Omi smiled.  "Now," I continued,  "I'm freezing to death, so put me together and let's get out of here!"

"Well..." said Omi, waffling.  "I could put you together again, but are you sure you want me to?"

"Why wouldn't I..." then it hit me.  "You mean you want to make love to me like this?"  When he had promised me an experience that I'd never forget, I thought he was referring to the dissection as a kind of bizarre foreplay.  I had never dreamed he'd want to keep me in this state.

"It's entirely up to you," said Omi.  "But I can do things with you...things you've never even imagined, things you couldn't conceive of, if you let me keep you like this for a while."

I glanced over at my naked shoulders, about two feet away.  "What sort of things?" I asked, warily.

"To try to explain would be pointless."  Omi laid his hand on my distant shoulder and squeezed it.  "Are you feeling adventurous?"

Out of the corner of my eye I could see my stomach laying on a chair, my shirt half draped over it.  I knew that my liver, kidneys, and intestines were inside it, and yet I had let Omi slice it away.  Adventurous didn't even begin to describe my mood.

"Okay, I'll give it a shot."

To my surprise, Omi shook his head.  He kneeled on the floor so that his eyes were level with my decapitated head.  "Rose, I love you.  To make love to you, even to hold you, would be magic.  If that's what you want to do, that's perfectly fine with me.  But," Omi's eyes once again took on that cold, half-crazed look, "if you want to go farther, if you want to try something new and incredible, you'll have to go for it 100%.  Once we start, there'll be no going back, no stopping.  You'll be my slave tonight, Rose.  You'll be totally in my power.  Whatever I decide to do with you, or to you, you'll have no choice but to submit to.  I swear I won't hurt you, but I will put you in situations that you'll find unusual, to say the least.  This'll go on until daybreak.  I want you to consider carefully, Rose.  Are you ready for this?"

I almost backed out.  I came so close to just telling him to put me back together and we'd become lovers in the normal way.  Be his slave?  Have to submit to whatever he decided?  That scared me as much as the far-away, deadly look on his face.

But of course I didn't refuse.  You don't climb Everest and stop right before the peak.  You don't rob a bank and leave without the money.  I had come this far, I couldn't stop now.

My voice quavering, I said "Okay, Omi.  I'm yours.  Until sunrise, I guess," it was hard for me to say, "I guess you own me."  I hoped I wasn't doing anything stupid.

Omi placed an empty hat box on the table.  He sat my head on top of that so that I had a good view of everything.  He sat my stomach, arms, shoulders, and chest on the table in front of me and lead my legs to a nearby chair.

It was strange looking at my chopped up form, and not only because it was such a bizarre situation.  It was just weird because I was seeing my body from a perspective that I had never had before.

I had never realized how muscular my calves were.  Or that I had freckles on the back of my shoulders.  I saw a tiny mole on my lower back that I had never noticed before.  I had never really appreciated how sexy my breasts were, viewed straight on.  I had also never noticed how my snake tattoo (which was now separated into three separate pieces) seemed to slither as I moved.

Unfortunately, I had also never noticed how big my rear looked from behind, or how calloused the backs of my feet were.  I had to remember to buy more comfortable shoes.

As I examined the parts of my body that I never had seen, Omi was rummaging trough the props.  As he returned to my line of sight, he was wheeling a large crate on a hand truck.

He laid the crate flat.  I tilted my head on the stump of my neck to see that it was filled with those Styrofoam packaging peanuts.  Without asking, Omi picked up my legs and laid them in the crate.  He half buried them in the peanuts.  My chest and stomach followed.  He then closed and locked the box and righted it on the hand truck.  I could feel my legs and torso shift in the container.

I started to ask him what he was doing, but it was rather obvious.  He couldn't exactly carry me across the carnival grounds looking like I did.  Even at this late hour we couldn't risk being seen.

Omi emptied his gym bag on the floor and carefully folded and packed my clothes.  Then he put in my shoulders and arms.  He zipped the bag and placed in on top of the packing crate.

All that was left was my head, sitting on the hat box.  Omi stood in front of me, still totally naked.  Arms folded, sweat dripping from his shaved head, muscles bulging, his multitude of scars visible.  He was no longer a magician at a third-rate carnival.  He was the Shogun, the Japanese warlord.  I could see him standing triumphant on the field of battle, laughing at the hundreds of Chinese corpses that surrounded him.

Since I had agreed to be 'his slave,' as he put it, he had once again taken on that cruel, almost deranged look.  It frightened me how he could go from being a shy, average guy, to a crazed samurai in seconds.  What if he was schizophrenic?  What had I agreed to?

As if reading my thoughts, he spoke.  "Rose, this is your last chance to back out.  Once you're in my trailer you'll be totally in my power."

Again, I was tempted to tell him to stop.  What if he really was crazy?  But I didn't think he was, at least not in the dangerous sense.  He had had ample opportunity to hurt me or molest me, but he had always passed.  Except for the first slice, he had asked my permission for everything he had done.

"Omi," I told him, "you better take get me out of here before I lose my nerve."

Omi nodded, and lifted my head.  He opened the hat box I had been resting on, and place my head inside.  Just before he replaced the lid, he told me "Remember Rose, if you're going to gamble, don't do it with a professional magician."  He held up the deck of cards and fanned it.  Each card was an ace.  He tapped me lightly on the head with the deck, like some sort of blessing or charm.  Then he put the lid on the box and everything was dark.

I could hear Omi getting dressed, then I felt my box being lifted and apparently placed on top of his gym bag.  Then there was the long, bumpy trek to his RV.  Eventually I could hear his door being shut and locked.

I felt cool air on my legs as Omi opened the packing crate.  I felt him gently lift my legs and lay them on what felt like a bed.  I felt my stomach and chest follow.  Then the gym bag was unzipped and my arms and shoulders joined the rest of my body.  Finally, he took out my head.  He placed it with the rest of me, laying pell-mell on his bed.

Omi lifted what looked like a blanket and wrapped my stomach tightly in it.  He then did the same for each of my arms and my shoulders.  When he was finished, each of the enshrouded body parts had been immobilized.  I could barely even feel them anymore, it was almost as if they were gone.  My head, chest, and legs were still bare.

I asked Omi why he had done that.  Omi laid down on the bed, beside what was left of me.  His voice was kind, though his eyes (among other body parts) were hard.  "Rose," he began, "I've been a student of the erotic for quite some time.  I've come to the conclusion that women have orgasms much less frequently then men because they have so few erotic zones.  With men, a touch to virtually any body part can cause arousal, but with women it is much more difficult.  To make matters worse, most men tend to concentrate on what makes them feel good, unaware that it doesn't do the same thing for the female.  While the woman is doing everything to make the man feel good, the man is often doing everything to make the man feel good as well."

I was impressed.  While none of my partners had ever been what you would call motivated to turn me on, I had often been shocked by their selfishness in bed.  I wondered if they were the same with their wives at home.  Probably.

"Anyway," continued Omi, "I theorized that if the woman was somehow reduced to her primary tactile zones then sex would me much more satisfying for her."

I had never even been to high school and I'm afraid my ignorance showed.  "Primary tactile zones?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't think me stupid.

"Yes, the most sensitive areas on the female body.  Say, the face," Omi ran a finger down my cheek and across my mouth, "the nipples," he tweaked the left one, I let out a yelp, "and the vagina," he tickled my pubic hair.  "Areas like the stomach, lower back, and shoulders are low in sensitivity.  They often distract from the process, and are better removed from the scene."

"But what about the hands?" I asked.  "They're very sensitive."

"True, but if I left you in control of your hands, you'd worry that you'd have to reciprocate what I was doing.  It would keep your mind off what you were doing and lead to a less satisfying experience."

"Omi," I chastised him "touching you will NOT lead to a less satisfying experience.  C'mon!"

"Well," he grinned "it also turns me on to have you submissive and helpless."  He kissed me.  "Shall we begin?"

It was strange.  He seemed like some kind of doctor, explaining a procedure.  I craned what was left of my neck to see my chest and lower half lying helplessly on the bed.  I tried to wiggle my trussed up arms, but it was impossible.  I sighed contentedly, as Omi began.
*
In the 1920's and 30's there was a popular horror writer named H.P. Lovecraft.  Lovecraft would often piss of his readership by describing a particular scene as 'so horrible that it would be impossible for any mortal hand to relate it,' rather than making the extra effort to write an accurate description.

I am a fan of Lovecraft's.  When I first decided to write this narrative about my first encounter with Omi, I had planned to end here, for fear that I couldn't do the experience justice.  But then I remembered Mr. Lovecraft's writing style and decided that you readers deserved better.  Just keep in mind that my crude descriptions don't even come near to conveying what an incredible (and weird) experience it was.

Then again, how does one describe the agony of having a man suck on your nipples until you feel like you are going to explode unless he sticks his manhood into you?  Had this been a normal experience I could have forced him to get on with it, but unfortunately my arms were nowhere near me.  The jerk played with my breasts for what seemed like forever, until I was practically screaming out him to enter me, I was so turned on.  To feel his touch only on my chest, vagina, and face...God, it was like my body was a giant g-spot!

How can I relate how it felt to wrap my legs around his head, to feel his tongue touch my most secret region, and to still be able to watch the whole process from the other end of the bed?

How can I adequately relate what it was like to feel my own nipple brush my cheek?  To be kissed while having my breasts manipulated above my own head?

How can I possibly hope to relate to you how thrilling it was to have a man take me doggy-style while kissing my lips at the same time?

Omi made me come three times; twice from his tongue, once from his repeated pelvic thrusts.  By this time I was too tired to attempt to move (not that I had many joints that I could have moved anyway).  Omi was right, it was quite satisfying to lay back and just let him repeatedly jam himself into my pelvis, as my head lay drenched in sweat, leaning crookedly against my own chest.

Omi must have been a machine, he lasted longer than I had ever seen a man last (of course, none of my previous 'lovers' had made it a point to last any significant length of time).  

Eventually, his face contorted, his eyes rolled back, and I knew he was about to come.  Bracing my knees on the bed, I thrust my pelvis back and he slipped out.  

A shocked and offended look appeared on his face.  "My head!" I shouted.  "C'mon, pick me up!"

Omi understood.  Grabbing my roughly by the hair, he thrust his rod between my eager lips.  With my tongue, I performed an act that I used to charge 200 bucks for.

Omi hollered something in Japanese and then screamed so loudly that the next day several circus employees asked him what the hell had spooked him so bad (thank God they were all too lazy to go investigate).

Omi gently slipped himself out of my mouth and clutched my head to his chest.  Neither of us spoke for a long time.  Eventually, he pulled a hip flask out from under his mattress and gave me a swig of whiskey to rinse out my mouth.  I felt the warmness of the liquor in my belly, which was still wrapped in a blanket on the other side of the room.

We both dozed briefly.  When I awoke, Omi was sitting on the edge of the bed, my head cradled on his knee.  A look of awe shone in his almond-shaped eyes.

"Rose...Jesus!"  He was unable to articulate further, but that about summed it up.  As far as sexual experiences went, this had pretty much blown everything else out of the water.  I told him as much.

Omi stroked my hair.  "Rose, I'd fantasized about doing that for years...but my God...."

I was taken aback.  "You mean, you'd never done that with anyone before?"

He shook his head.  "Nah, I'm not what you'd call an experienced lover (sure as hell could have fooled me).  I've always wanted to do this, but could never find anyone special enough."

I smiled.  So I was the first, not that bitch Shirley.  Too bad for her, she'd never know what she'd given up.

I yawned and tried to stretch.  "Omi, honey," I said, "I don't want to break the moment, but my arms are starting to go to sleep and I have to pee.  Do you think..."

Omi smiled a sad smile.  "Well, I suppose."  He gently laid my head at the foot of the bed and unwrapped my arms, shoulders, and belly.  Out of my line of sight he placed them all on the bed.  Then he draped a sheet over everything under my neck.

He removed it with a flourish.  "There you go, all in one piece."

I sat up to give him a kiss.  Then I looked down at my body and screamed.  I was in one piece all right, just in the wrong damn order.

My arms were correctly reattached to my shoulders, but in reference to my head they were all backwards!  My arms now had a wide backwards range of motion, but very little forward.

Under my shoulders, where my chest should have been, was my lower back.  I assumed that my navel was now where my shoulder blades should have been.  Looking down further, I realized that my chest was where by belly was supposed to be.  To make matters worse, it was upside down.  The bottoms of my breasts now formed the cleavage.  The snake tattoo was now under my boobs, not on top.  It began right above my hips, and terminated abruptly right where my rib cage would have started.  

My hips and legs were in the right position, at least in reference to my head.  The part of the tattoo down there now ended right above my pubic hair.

"Omi, what the hell did you do to me?" I asked.  Just when I thought I was going to be restored, he pulls something like this.

"Remember Rose," he said with a chirpiness that made me want to whack him with a pillow "I won your body, your WHOLE body, until sunrise.  It's only about 4:00 am now.  You aren't going to welsh on our bet, now are you?"

I knew better than to argue with him.  I just sighed and stood up.  I was glad that my legs and head faced the same way, it would have been impossible for me to walk otherwise.  I looked down an my ridiculously mismade body.  'So this is what happens when you fall for a psycho,' I thought.  Well, things could have turned out a whole lot worse.

Because my lower spine was in my chest's typical spot, I found that I could bend my head and shoulders back a considerable distance.  Of course, now I had almost no forward motion, especially at my waist.  I had to stand ramrod straight to walk.  I now possessed a reverse hourglass figure, curving in at the top and spreading out in the middle.

For the first time in my life, I scratched my shoulder blades (now where my lower back should have been) with my nails, and went to the bathroom.  When I returned, Omi was sprawled across bed, an expectant grin on his face.  He patted the bed beside him.

I was getting a little annoyed with his flip.  "Omi," I said with what I hoped was convincing anger, "what if I were to tell you that this was it for the night?  That I wasn't going to put out any more?"

Omi didn't bat an eye.  "I guess I'd have to bid you farewell until the morrow," he replied with a fake British accent.  "Why?  Do you want to stop?"

I tried not to smile back, but couldn't.  "No, of course not," I said as I flopped onto the bed next to him.

This time the love making was a little more normal, but only compared to the first time.  Because I could no longer bend forward I had to be on the bottom.  I had planned be a much more active participant, but because my arms were on backwards I could hardly even reach him.  In the end, I just laid back and enjoyed him.  

Afterwards, I lazed with my back to him (well, actually, my stomach, and...aw, hell, you get the picture), and we spooned.  I felt him fall asleep with his arm around me.  I soon dozed as well.  

When I woke I turned myself over and looked at my new found love.  He slept so peacefully.  I could imagine waking up to him every day.  Only now we weren't living in his RV.  We had our own place.  We were no longer working for the circus, we had normal jobs, and were just a normal husband and wife...

My God, what was I thinking?  We had just spend our first night together and I was already planning the future.  It was completely unrealistic.

Then again, I thought, as I looked down at my surrealistic body, a lot of unrealistic, no, not unrealistic, impossible things had happened this night.  Who was to say what was impossible now?  Was anything truly impossible?

One thing was for sure.  Dawn was breaking over the horizon.  Fun as it was, I had to get back to my normal state.

I nudged him.  "Hey honey, wake up.  C'mon.  Put me back together."

Omi smiled, still half asleep.  He tugged the blanket around both of us and drifted off again.  

"Hey Omi," I started to shake him again when I realized that I was in my normal shape.  In the few seconds I had been wrapped up next to him, I had reverted back to my standard form.

Omi looked spent for the night, but tough for him.  I ran my hand over his naked body.  "Rose," he complained, even as his body responded physically, "I'm too pooped to move."

"Too bad," I replied, jumping on top of him.  "Just lie back and enjoy.  You're not the only one who gets to be in charge, you know."

The samurai was gone for now.  This time I had HIM to MY satisfaction.
*
Another one of my favorite authors is John Irving.  Many of his fans complain that he finds it necessarily to include epilogues that follow all of a book's characters to their deaths, even if they are still infants at the end of the story.  I won't go that far, but I do want to tell you how things ended up.

We both quit the circus soon after all this happened.  Omi forced me to go back to school, where I earned my high school equivalency, and then an undergraduate degree in business.  Omi opened a knife-sharpening shop, which blossomed into a hardware store, then a chain.  We manage them together.  My past is now just a nasty memory and anyone would assume were are a normal upper-middle-class couple.

Yes, we did get married.  How could we not have?  After everything we had been through, it's not like either of us could have settled for anyone else, both physically and emotionally.

Despite our cozy suburban life, what happens in the bedroom is far from ordinary.  Since that first night, I've been sliced, diced, drawn, quartered, and shredded.  I've been flattened, shortened, crushed, stretched, and twisted.  I've been decapitated, dismembered, and powdered.  I've been burned, pierced, skewered, and vanished.  Of course I come out fine each time.  Each of these tricks would take pages to relate in full, and who knows, I just may tell you about them some day.

Next week Omi and I will celebrate our five-year anniversary.  He says he has something planned that will surpass anything we've done before.  I don't think he means a trip to Vegas.

An acquaintance of mine recently warned me that our sex-life would probably soon become dull and predictable, if it hadn't already; hers had.  I hope she wasn't too offended when I laughed in her face.


Questions, comments, suggestions?  Write to:  [email protected]