Riley Murphy's Blog, page 20

Cover Reveal For Reputable Surrender

COMING SOON!!!

This is Michael and Laren’s story. The final story in my Trust In Me series!!! I can’t wait to share this one. So excited.

 

If you missed the first “free read” of their pre-story just click on Michael’s picture.

Fred’s Not So Dead (part two)

 

*NOTE* If you haven’t read part one click on Myrtie and get the scoop and then come back to this one!

Oh. MY. Friggin’. God!

I sat in the living room and watched Honey come up the walk yesterday. There he was strolling along when he spotted her. *insert him halting immediately here* Then imagine him staring at her for a twenty-count before he started looking around the rock, under the African Iris leaves and by the ligustrum. Uh oh, now envision him spinning around to face the house before he marched to it.

Once he was inside with the door shut I smiled. “Hi.”

“What’s that?” He scowled and hiked a thumb over his shoulder toward Myrtie.

Wow, okay, I need to pause here and tell you something I should have mentioned before. Honey doesn’t like garden gnomes. They are second on the list of creepy things he tries to avoid. First are clowns. I don’t blame him there. And third on the list? Are antique type writers in dreary basements. This one could be on account of me covertly typing “I’m watching you” on his mother’s old manual machine and leaving it there until he found it a week later.  Hey, don’t look at me like that. Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing? The manual typewriter just happened to be in his mother’s dark and dingy “unfinished” basement, and we’d just gone to see a triple feature of horror movies at the drive-in so, to me it was kismet. Perfect timing, right? Don’t tell, though. He’s still convinced that old house was haunted.

“A gnome,” I said, and amazingly I didn’t even cringe.

“Where’s Tina?”

“Who’s Tina?

“The Turtle.”

“Oh, you mean Fred.”

“No.”

“’Fraid so.”

He scowled. “You ignored her for six years—”

“Him, and it was eight actually. Don’t you like Myrtie?”

Honey hates it when I mess with him like this. You could practically see him wanting to drag his hands down the sides of his face. “You didn’t give him away, did you?”

Oh yeah, like anyone would want the homely effer. But ugly or not it was clear both of us loved the little guy. “Of course not. He’s family.”

“She.” Honey went into the kitchen and unloaded his pockets. That’s always such a treat because there’s usually all kinds of weird shit in them. Screws, nails, wingnuts, batteries, or my favorite? Unwound safety clips. I have no idea what he does with those, but it’s something that happens at least four times a month. Picks locks maybe?

“Fred’s a he. You’re going to have trust me on that.”

He turned and pulled me into his arms, sighing. “I’d be out of my mind to trust a kidnapper. Are you going to tell me where the turtle is?”

“He’s traveling.”

“Around the property?”

“Maybe…in between his visits.”

He groaned. “Please tell me you haven’t sent him to my mother’s.

Eek, I forgot about that one. Crap, that was twenty years ago and he still remembered? Meh, why wouldn’t he? It was classic with a capital “C”. One day I’ll have to blog about the infamous item I sent her. “Nope. No worries.”

He laughed. “Yeah right. You and that concept don’t go together well.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“So how long am I going to be stuck with the gnome?”

“Until Fred comes back. I told him to drop us a line once in a while.”

“Interesting. Well, when he returns she goes.”

“Okay.” And I have the perfect destination in mind. “I’ll send her to your mother.”

I SO love it when Honey groans like I slammed his fingers in the door. Don’t know why. Oh yes I do. It means my work here is done.

Little does he know I haven’t even gotten started. Heheheh. Poor Honey.

Riley

P.S. I’ve been working on something else I wanted to share with you. I’m creating an exclusive and private group on Facebook. Some of you guys may have heard of the term “Street Team”. If not, the term loosely defined is a group of (in my case) readers who have a place to hang out with me where I can share ahead of time, things like covers, teasers, contests. That you can then share with other readers who like my kinds of books. Ultimately, what I’d like to do is be able to give my team advance copies of my new releases and get feedback and possibly some reviews posted on Amazon and goodreads on official release days.

I do want to make this clear. I do not expect a certain kind of review from any reader – even a team member. I don’t agree with asking for a certain star rating or whatever. I’m comfortable letting my work speak for itself, and my readers to have a voice with their own opinions. I know at times – even with my most loyal readers I’m going to miss the mark in their eyes with some story concepts. That’s life. It’s not perfect and neither am I so *insert big weary sigh here* I’ve learned to live with it.

That said I do have this application if you’d be interested in joining. I’ve limited the amount of space, so sign-ups will be closed once I’ve reached that amount. If there is anything on the application you are uncomfortable with feel free to email me. I have tried to make this as painless as possible – but be warned. Some of you guys know me. The people who join my team will know get to know me better. So that may be a good thing…but depending on how you look at it? It could be bad.

I wanted to post this here for you guys before I posted it anywhere else. All you have to do is click on the abs below to view and fill out the application.

 

Fred Is Far From Dead (Part One)

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See? He’s right here, but not for long. >:) If you haven’t read my previous post about Fred PLEASE do so by clicking on the above picture. You’ll get the scoop and be able to follow along. Who knows? You may have a chance to win something interesting at the end of Fred’s frolicking.

Now *insert me crying laughing here* as I had to wait until Honey left this morning. I’ve been dying. DYING since late yesterday afternoon when the package arrived. Really, I wanted so badly to take a picture and post it on facebook but I held myself back. *wipes tears* I’m glad I stuck to my guns. Really. This couldn’t have worked out better because Honey moved Fred this morning. What a stroke of luck! There is no way he’s going to miss this now, as I’m pretty sure the neighbors will see Fred’s new “stand-in” because Wowza! She’s a standout, isn’t she?

People. Meet Myrtie!

I thought after my post about the stripper pole she fit right in, and you know, Honey being a guy and all, he wasn’t likely to miss her, right?  The card isn’t really on her I just rested it there so you can what she does for a living.

Here she is without the card.

And this next shot is just for Steve. Baby got some back don’t she?

Hahahaha! Honey has to walk right by her when he comes home. I can’t wait! I’m dying to see what he does. *Insert me collecting my hilarity enough to finish this post here* (not really, but I’m trying.)

So now to hide Fred so he can rest up for his journey. I don’t mind telling you, once he saw the babe on the pole he didn’t want to leave. And once Myrtie got a load of all his concreteness EVERYWHERE she was no doubt ready to beg him to stay, but that would ruin all the fun.

Speaking of fun. I thought it would be awesome if we made this into a contest. I haven’t worked out all the details yet. But I’m thinking the prize should be the winner gets their very own Naught Dancin’ garden gnome. I was kind of thinking to include Honey somehow. After all, he’s the inspiration. I can let him do the final drawing from my subscribers list or something. *thinking* I’ll keep you guys posted on this once I bang out the details. The posts for this will always be Fred Is Far From Dead (Part whatever) okay? Oh, and make sure you’re on the subscriber’s list. All you have to do is leave a comment and tick the box underneath it to be included.

*Cracks knuckles and pops my brows at you* So where shall we begin…?

Riley

 

Reputable Surrender

Coming Soon

Fred’s Fifteen Minutes Of Fame…

Actually, it might be longer than 15 minutes by the time I’m done. We’ll see. This is Fred. He’s a turtle. A pretty ugly one if you ask me, but not for long. Check out the story of Fred and how his rather staid life is going to become more interesting. >:)

[image error]Did I ever mention Fred the turtle? That’s him in the picture. Now according to my children, Honey found him buried at one of his jobsites years ago (Fred is dead…actually, he’s concrete, so inanimate might be a better way to describe him.) Anyways, Honey brought him home one day and left him on our big landscape rock out front. I walked by him for days and never commented. I really can’t tell you why I didn’t. I just didn’t. So, a few days later when I happened by and noticed he was missing I was wondering where the heck he went. I mean it wasn’t as if he could just walk off. That’s when I noticed he was on our brick wall. Fred had moved. Hm. I still didn’t say anything. And you know? Fred is still making the rounds around our house. He’s like the mysterious gnome only, you know, a turtle. This morning I found him under my African irises. He does love the blooms. One of these days I’m going to have to mention to Honey that not only have I noticed our nomadic turtle, but I named him going on, well 8 years ago now.

So yesterday I posted this picture and explanation on Facebook and got quite a few comments. I love comments, but sometimes getting them is a bad thing. *pulls down glasses and stares right at you* Follow me on this one, okay? The gang on Facebook started to throw out suggestions. Now, you gotta know I use that term very lightly as suggestions to me are really nothing more than a dare. *shrugs* I blame this on the fact I was the youngest of four very smart and devious siblings. I still have the scars to prove it…the sneaky buggers. *sigh* But that’s another blog post altogether. Back to Fred.

It was mentioned that I should paint his toenails or possibly string his grey little neck with some festive beads. *pushes my glasses back up and grins* The visuals just started coming. Then we discussed replacing Fred with an actual gnome. Wouldn’t Honey be surprised? *taps index fingernail to front tooth before deciding* Why, yes he would.

As you can well image there’s more nefarious talk of how to sweeten the pot of messing with Honey. Lemme see…why not take pictures of Fred, while he’s on sabbatical, doing his thang. Maybe getting his toenails painted by hot chicks. I nearly spit out my Fresca when I read the comment about skewering some Peeps on a stick to be roasted. Bah! Now those would be some hot chicks!

Why am I telling you all this? *Looks around and then leans in to whisper* I’m buying a gnome. *laughs at your shocked expression and then straightens up* True story. I have to. This is the perfect way to break the 8 years of silence over our nomadic reptile. I’m practically crying laughing right now as I get ready to tell you that me and Honey have had numerous discussions right over Fred’s head. Image the two of us planning out where to plant the shrubs or how low to trim a bush with Fred right between us or beside us. One time the little guy was staring me right in the face with his beady marble-like eyes because Honey had wedged him between two of the posts on our wrought iron fence/gate thing and I still never said anything. I’ve always imagined one day Honey would finally come right out and ask me about it and my answer was going to be really blasé when I answered, “The turtle? I thought he was your imaginary friend.” But now I see this way is better. Way, WAY better and best part? You guys will be in on it.

Heheheh. Keep a look out for future posts titled: Fred Is Far From Dead. This aught to be a blast!

Riley who is so bad. Poor Honey.

Reputable Surrender (Part 1) The Problem

The Carlyn

Michael Kavanaugh dropped off the supply box for the sunset cruise scheduled for tonight. One lucky-in-love-or-lust couple was in for some fun, judging by those supplies. A good length of rope, cuffs, a flogger, Jojoba oil, wax, a blindfold and a ball-gag. His kind of party favors. He could only imagine using them to make a treasured sub sweat and pant in the cooling breeze that wafted off the lake at dusk this time of year.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a sub, treasured or otherwise to sail with and he didn’t know why. He suspected it had to do with wanting more from his relationships, but that seemed selfish and egotistical. Two negative characteristics he’d worked hard to overcome these last few years. Lately though, he worried that by tamping down those urges he’d somehow lost his “great” passion when dealing with the opposite sex.

This was why he’d come to the resort. He’d been hoping to rediscover himself with like-minded individuals, but that plan had backfired. Instead of having his kink reinvigorated he was forced to face facts. Various play partners didn’t do it for him anymore. He wanted one. The one. A woman who was strong enough to kneel at his feet one moment, and be ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in time of crisis, the next.

He thought about his friends as he hopped off the yacht onto the dock. Each one of them had found their “one” and although he was happy for them he couldn’t help being envious. Were their lives perfect? No, but their lives were rich and full of—he paused to check one of the tie-downs—surprises. Yeah, as simple as that sounded the concept was complex. To be surprised meant that you were astonished or filled with wonder, two things he hadn’t experienced in a relationship in a very long time. Of course as good as this sounded it also meant you might have the occasion to be flabbergasted, stunned or shocked. He had a hunch that Ted had more of the latter than Rene, Ethan or David combined, but they were all happy none-the-less.

As he ascended the stairs built into the embankment, he thought about lust versus love. That was the difference in his mind. His friends were in love and here he was trying to recapture falling in lust. He wasn’t ready for love despite the surprises as this meant a union of soul. Lust was so much simpler. A union of flesh, but hell, why was there no female flesh around that he lusted over? God knew there was plenty of it at the resort. That was the problem. He’d been approached more times than he could count over the last few days and not one of the submissive beauties had caught his interest. Why?

Because none of them have what you want.

Did a sub like that even exist? A woman who would lick him from head to toe, cry for him, pant, groan and purr for him all because she lived for it? Because he was her drug of choice. The captor of her attention. Her life, her breath—her cherished and trusted Dom.

He was halfway to the boat house when he remembered the text he’d gotten twenty minutes ago. It was from Rene.

Our nanny has Bea for the afternoon so Alexis and I have a date. I left the invoices on the front porch. Don’t ring the bell because Laren’s trying to put our girl to sleep. Thanks. R.

Michael took a deep breath and headed around the house to the front door. He figured it was better pitching in with business shit now that he was here. At least it would give him an excuse if anyone noticed how scarce he was when it came to partaking in the festivities. So much for the relaxing kinky retreat he’d envisioned. He should have stayed home.

The second that came to him, so did the sound of a baby crying. Only it didn’t come from the house. It was outside. He spun around and scanned the foliage that dotted the right side of the property. Most of the trees were willows, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze, but when a large section of leafy drape shifted he saw them. Baby Bea and her nanny. They were sitting on a bright blue blanket. Bea was screaming her head off. Probably because Rene wasn’t around. That made him smile as everyone knew how attached she was to her dad.

As he watched, the woman rocked and he imagined, sang softly to calm the baby down. For a full two minutes she never changed her position as she steadily moved back and forth until Bea took a big hiccupping breath and settled right in. For the life of him, Michael had no idea why he stood there watching the scene, but then it came to him.

Advertising. All week long women of various stages of provocative undress had been advertising themselves for his consideration, and here was a woman who wasn’t and she’d caught his attention?

It made no sense, and as he scooped up the invoices he decided it must have been the woman’s beautiful hair that interested him. Odd, because that wasn’t usually his thing. He loved asses. The shape, curve and contour of a woman’s ass, was the calling card that drew him. He was also a sucker for eyes. The bigger the better as they shed thick, salty tears and had more room to shine with devotion.

That was such an obscene thought, giving what he was looking at, that Michael swallowed his self-disgust. Because when the woman bent and pressed a kiss on the baby’s forehead, he’d felt something he hadn’t felt for a long time. Shame. Here she was caretaking a precious little being and all he could do was imagine defiling a different kind of precious being. A faceless sub with ridiculously thick, probably silky as fuck, mahogany-colored hair.

“Kavanaugh?”

Michael turned. He hadn’t even heard Rene approach. “Hey.”

“You get those invoices? I thought I’d come back and check on my girl. She was pretty upset when we left.”

Normally Michael would have ribbed him for being a candy ass, but not today. Not now. “She’s fine. As you can see.” He pointed to the cluster of willows and said, “Rocked right to sleep.”

Rene scanned the area and then smiled, but his joyful expression didn’t last. When he turned back, he was scowling. “How do you know she was rocked to sleep? Have you had an eye on them that long? You better not. Laren is off limits.”

For some reason that statement landed like a kick in the gut. “I see. She’s married.”

“Fuck, Kavanaugh. What is it with you and other men’s wives?” He sighed long and deep and then explained more reasonably, “Look, she’s getting a divorce. It’s fresh and too soon for her to be approached. The only reason she’s here is to help us with Bea.”

Michael nodded and went to leave, but Rene grabbed his arm.

“Promise me you’ll keep your distance. I know something’s up. I’ve seen you turn down a number of impressive opportunities over the last few days. Do you want to talk about it?”

If he did, what could he say? I think I’m tired of being “The Reputable Dom”? Where the hell did that come from? Was that it? Was this his problem?

He pulled, but Rene didn’t release his arm, only curiously studied him. “Friends help friends with problems. I’m here for you. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” But even as he said this he wondered how quickly his friend would be there for him if he knew what he was thinking. Great ass or big eyes it didn’t matter whether Laren had either of those things. Because now Michael knew she represented something he wanted that mattered more to him than any physical attribute could.

“Just to be clear. You have no interest in her, correct?”

Michael shook his head. “We haven’t even met.”

Rene finally let go. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

Michael may have nodded when they headed back up to the Carlyn, but he knew that was never going to happen. In his experience, lying laid the ground work toward future problems. Now, if he’d told Rene the truth, that he did have an interest in Laren, she’d have been parked quite nicely in his past.

No problem.

But then there were no surprises in the past. Those events had come and gone. Not so with the future. The future held all kinds of surprises.

And problems.

He knew this to be true as he faced one immediately. His rapidly beating heart- which had been flat-lining in the lust department for so long- he worried he was having an anxiety attack. But then, he highly doubted someone suffering from one of those would be sporting a cock so hard it could potentially set off the metal detectors at TSA. Thank Christ he wasn’t going anywhere…except straight to hell if you go after her.

When they reached the resort, Rene opened the door for him. “Do you want to join me and Alex for lunch?”

“No thanks. I’m going to drop these off to Basel.” He tapped the invoices against his thigh. “After that I’m heading to the gym.” He didn’t add, so I can do a heavy workout with weights, instead of working out your nanny. Why should both of them have to worry?

“Gym, huh?” Rene stared hard. “Good man.”

But Michael’s biggest fear now was that he wasn’t going to be.

Reputable Surrender (Part One) The Problem

The Carlyn

Michael Kavanaugh dropped off the supply box for the sunset cruise scheduled for tonight. One lucky-in-love-or-lust couple was in for some fun, judging by those supplies. A good length of rope, cuffs, a flogger, Jojoba oil, wax, a blindfold and a ball-gag. His kind of party favors. He could only imagine using them to make a treasured sub sweat and pant in the cooling breeze that wafted off the lake at dusk this time of year.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a sub, treasured or otherwise to sail with and he didn’t know why. He suspected it had to do with wanting more from his relationships, but that seemed selfish and egotistical. Two negative characteristics he’d worked hard to overcome these last few years. Lately though, he worried that by tamping down those urges he’d somehow lost his “great” passion when dealing with the opposite sex.

This was why he’d come to the resort. He’d been hoping to rediscover himself with like-minded individuals, but that plan had backfired. Instead of having his kink reinvigorated he was forced to face facts. Various play partners didn’t do it for him anymore. He wanted one. The one. A woman who was strong enough to kneel at his feet one moment, and be ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in time of crisis, the next.

He thought about his friends as he hopped off the yacht onto the dock. Each one of them had found their “one” and although he was happy for them he couldn’t help being envious. Were their lives perfect? No, but their lives were rich and full of—he paused to check one of the tie-downs—surprises. Yeah, as simple as that sounded the concept was complex. To be surprised meant that you were astonished or filled with wonder, two things he hadn’t experienced in a relationship in a very long time. Of course as good as this sounded it also meant you might have the occasion to be flabbergasted, stunned or shocked. He had a hunch that Ted had more of the latter than Rene, Ethan or David combined, but they were all happy none-the-less.

As he ascended the stairs built into the embankment, he thought about lust versus love. That was the difference in his mind. His friends were in love and here he was trying to recapture falling in lust. He wasn’t ready for love despite the surprises as this meant a union of soul. Lust was so much simpler. A union of flesh, but hell, why was there no female flesh around that he lusted over? God knew there was plenty of it at the resort. That was the problem. He’d been approached more times than he could count over the last few days and not one of the submissive beauties had caught his interest. Why?

Because none of them have what you want.

Did a sub like that even exist? A woman who would lick him from head to toe, cry for him, pant, groan and purr for him all because she lived for it? Because he was her drug of choice. The captor of her attention. Her life, her breath—her cherished and trusted Dom.

He was halfway to the boat house when he remembered the text he’d gotten twenty minutes ago. It was from Rene.

Our nanny has Bea for the afternoon so Alexis and I have a date. I left the invoices on the front porch. Don’t ring the bell because Laren’s trying to put our girl to sleep. Thanks. R.

Michael took a deep breath and headed around the house to the front door. He figured it was better pitching in with business shit now that he was here. At least it would give him an excuse if anyone noticed how scarce he was when it came to partaking in the festivities. So much for the relaxing kinky retreat he’d envisioned. He should have stayed home.

The second that came to him, so did the sound of a baby crying. Only it didn’t come from the house. It was outside. He spun around and scanned the foliage that dotted the right side of the property. Most of the trees were willows, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze, but when a large section of leafy drape shifted he saw them. Baby Bea and her nanny. They were sitting on a bright blue blanket. Bea was screaming her head off. Probably because Rene wasn’t around. That made him smile as everyone knew how attached she was to her dad.

As he watched, the woman rocked and he imagined, sang softly to calm the baby down. For a full two minutes she never changed her position as she steadily moved back and forth until Bea took a big hiccupping breath and settled right in. For the life of him, Michael had no idea why he stood there watching the scene, but then it came to him.

Advertising. All week long women of various stages of provocative undress had been advertising themselves for his consideration, and here was a woman who wasn’t and she’d caught his attention?

It made no sense, and as he scooped up the invoices he decided it must have been the woman’s beautiful hair that interested him. Odd, because that wasn’t usually his thing. He loved asses. The shape, curve and contour of a woman’s ass, was the calling card that drew him. He was also a sucker for eyes. The bigger the better as they shed thick, salty tears and had more room to shine with devotion.

That was such an obscene thought, giving what he was looking at, that Michael swallowed his self-disgust. Because when the woman bent and pressed a kiss on the baby’s forehead, he’d felt something he hadn’t felt for a long time. Shame. Here she was caretaking a precious little being and all he could do was imagine defiling a different kind of precious being. A faceless sub with ridiculously thick, probably silky as fuck, mahogany-colored hair.

“Kavanaugh?”

Michael turned. He hadn’t even heard Rene approach. “Hey.”

“You get those invoices? I thought I’d come back and check on my girl. She was pretty upset when we left.”

Normally Michael would have ribbed him for being a candy ass, but not today. Not now. “She’s fine. As you can see.” He pointed to the cluster of willows and said, “Rocked right to sleep.”

Rene scanned the area and then smiled, but his joyful expression didn’t last. When he turned back, he was scowling. “How do you know she was rocked to sleep? Have you had an eye on them that long? You better not. Laren is off limits.”

For some reason that statement landed like a kick in the gut. “I see. She’s married.”

“Fuck, Kavanaugh. What is it with you and other men’s wives?” He sighed long and deep and then explained more reasonably, “Look, she’s getting a divorce. It’s fresh and too soon for her to be approached. The only reason she’s here is to help us with Bea.”

Michael nodded and went to leave, but Rene grabbed his arm.

“Promise me you’ll keep your distance. I know something’s up. I’ve seen you turn down a number of impressive opportunities over the last few days. Do you want to talk about it?”

If he did, what could he say? I think I’m tired of being “The Reputable Dom”? Where the hell did that come from? Was that it? Was this his problem?

He pulled, but Rene didn’t release his arm, only curiously studied him. “Friends help friends with problems. I’m here for you. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” But even as he said this he wondered how quickly his friend would be there for him if he knew what he was thinking. Great ass or big eyes it didn’t matter whether Laren had either of those things. Because now Michael knew she represented something he wanted that mattered more to him than any physical attribute could.

“Just to be clear. You have no interest in her, correct?”

Michael shook his head. “We haven’t even met.”

Rene finally let go. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

Michael may have nodded when they headed back up to the Carlyn, but he knew that was never going to happen. In his experience, lying laid the ground work toward future problems. Now, if he’d told Rene the truth, that he did have an interest in Laren, she’d have been parked quite nicely in his past.

No problem.

But then there were no surprises in the past. Those events had come and gone. Not so with the future. The future held all kinds of surprises.

And problems.

He knew this to be true as he faced one immediately. His rapidly beating heart- which had been flat-lining in the lust department for so long- he worried he was having an anxiety attack. But then, he highly doubted someone suffering from one of those would be sporting a cock so hard it could potentially set off the metal detectors at TSA. Thank Christ he wasn’t going anywhere…except straight to hell if you go after her.

When they reached the resort, Rene opened the door for him. “Do you want to join me and Alex for lunch?”

“No thanks. I’m going to drop these off to Basel.” He tapped the invoices against his thigh. “After that I’m heading to the gym.” He didn’t add, so I can do a heavy workout with weights, instead of working out your nanny. Why should both of them have to worry?

“Gym, huh?” Rene stared hard. “Good man.”

But Michael’s biggest fear now was that he wasn’t going to be.

I wasn’t Kidding!

So to recap. I told Honey that the only way the pole he brought home to go in our bedroom (Noteworthy mention here: He insists this “pole” is what a typical strip joint would use, but I do have to pause here and say that Honey can pretty much retrofit anything. Meaning, what he calls a stripper pole could very well be a cut-to-fit sewer line >.< Although, now that I think about it, those are black…mostly. *I think* So let’s call this pole a drainpipe shall we?) That being the case, the only way this was getting in my house was if said drainpipe had some bling-type hardware on it. *insert me dreaming of big rhinestones, glitter, fur and, why not? A thousand one dollar bills taped to it* But back to reality. The picture there? That’s the “dressing up” hardware that he leaves on the counter yesterday morning with his simple note. I do have to pause here once more to say that Honey and I are kinda famous for our morning notes to one another. The most notorious one? Well, that happened when I was at university and I used to sleepover at his place EVERY chance I got and he was working horrific hours. We were like two ships passing in the night – so morning notes were awesome. Unfortunately, Honey had a roommate. His brother who was working midnight shifts so when he got home early one morning (having no idea that I’d slept over) and beat me to my note a legend was born.

Thanks for the good time babe. I know we agreed to 60 bucks, but I only have 40. I’ll make it up to you next time.

Strange part about it? I got up and there was no money short changed or otherwise and there was me going to class without the books I needed. This was before cellphones were all the rage so there was no way I could call him, ya know? Sure I was a little steamed because he really was supposed to leave some $$ for me, but then I thought he probably forgot. But no. Turns out his brother saw the note before I got up and thought Honey’d been cheating on me so he hid it. Just in case I showed up and found it or something. Nice, huh? Long story short? His brother is still in the doghouse over that one.

So back to Honey’s idea of “bling”. I take one look at those handcuffs and I LMAO thinking he must have gotten them at a party store or something. Then I pick them up and realize these were no gag gift set here. They were heavy and Smith & Wesson with official registration #’s and everything. WTH? Where did Honey get these, that’s what I wanted to know. See?

I know I’d never seen them before. Hm. There were a number of ways to broach this subject, but none of them more effective then hanging the suckers on the bedpost on his side of the bed. And last night when he noticed them, he smiled. “I see you like my hardware.”

I smiled right back. “Not exactly.”

“They made it to the bedroom and that was my plan.”

He had that look that gets me second guessing myself. Dammit. “What about the pole?”

“@#$! the pole. Who needs one when you have a perfectly good bedpost?”

I gotta say here guys, that did make sense. Besides, I didn’t want to tell him that I’d 86′d that scene so I didn’t need the pole after all. ;D

Yes, this is my life. No kidding.

Riley

You Don’t Say…

Wait, he do say. And what do I say? Oh. My. God! Actually there was and “effing” in between the my and the big man upstair’s name, but I’m trying to keep this PG. Although, now that I think about the subject, obtaining PG status might be an overreach. We’ll see.

So here’s the setup. Honey’s…wait for it…watching a documentary on the civil war AGAIN last night and yeah, there’s me standing behind him wasting time while I try to work through an outline to one of my next books. So, when the boring-as-hell show breaks for commercial I start the conversation.

“Hey, I might need to do some research for one of my stories.”

“And?” He doesn’t look up at me. Instead he flicks the channel to another show he’s kind of watching as well.

“I was thinking I may want you to install a stripper pole in our bedroom. Do you think you could?”

“Sure.”

Wow, not a blink or hesitation. Just “sure.” Then…

“Tell me where to pick it up and I’ll get it done. I’ve got time tomorrow.”

*Insert the wood-burning-bonfire epiphany here as I silently ruminate*

You don’t day? Just like that, eh? Alrighty. I wrote out an address and handed it to him. “Mention my name and they’ll give it to you.”

That’s all I said before I walked off thinking about two very interesting facts of a man’s life. First? It was clear to me a stripper pole in the bedroom trumps the upholstered valance boxes a wife has waited two weeks for her husband to pick up and install in their room. And second? A man’s life – well, maybe I should say, my man’s life, is full of surprises. Because won’t he be surprised when they hand him the valance boxes without the pole. Heheheh. It’s new draperies in my boudoir this week guys and Honey’s going to be lunch bag left out with no pole. At least for now. I still might need it if I write that book. We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.

 

Riley, who is still shaking her head over this one.