gay lesbian

Today We Bury A US President

Can We Also Bury Anger With Him?

I remember the years after Ronald Reagan very well. My parents were still alive, I was young, and times were different. Times were very different then. There wasn’t access to the news at the spur of the moment because smart phones had not been invented. If you wanted to read the news, you went out and got a newspaper. You put your quarter in the machine on the corner and walked back home, past the telephone booth. In my neighborhood, you waved at the local hooker and gave a head nod to the guy across the street who you knew was selling drugs out of his house. You kept your head down and you stayed out of trouble. 

The Early Nineties

The year was 1991 and I had just moved to St Pete, FL. I was working as a waitress in a place that still required me to wear a dress and pantyhose each day. I walked to work or rode a bicycle. I had a car and it was broken down more than it ran. It stayed parked most of the time. It was a brand new Dodge and to this day I won’t own another one. 

I had moved to the coast because my parents lived in Ocala. I had not been very wild about the fact that they sold their house and followed me to FL in 1987. I considered it my mother’s final attempt at ruining my life and continuing her efforts at manipulating everything she could. Of course, she wasn’t all bad. As an adult now, I can admit this. At that time, however, I had just come out as gay and she and I were not getting along at all. 

The AIDS crisis was in full swing. Being a young lesbian, I was aware of it and was fearful of contracting it myself. Even though it predominantly was an issue that affected gay men, women were not totally safe. I read “And the Band Played On” from cover to cover and was somewhat horrified. It would be many years before that made it to the big screen. Gay people knew. We were living in it, neck deep. 

The Real Reagan Legacy

Ronald Reagan didn’t acknowledge the epidemic for what it was. It was never funded. It was, to be blunt, completely ignored. Gay men were dying at astronomical numbers. These deaths were long and painful. Most of the people I personally knew who died passed away from breathing complications – typically pneumonia. I remember one friend the most. His name was Christopher Gomez. Chris was a wonderful person. There were times that he’d see me walking home after work, or on the way to work. He would do a big U-turn in the middle of crazy 4th Street North, stopping traffic in the process, in order to pull-over and yell, “Get in, I’ll drive you!”

He was a nice person. He had dark hair, brown eyes, a pale complexion, and he was short. Chris probably didn’t stand over five feet, six inches tall. He worked as a waiter and he made good money. Like most of us in those days, he spent more on beer and having fun than anything else. We lived in neighborhoods that were seemingly small in the middle of a large city.

I had several  friends, a different life back then than the one I live now. I was more social and could more easily deal with loudness and chaotic situations. As I’ve grown older, my spectrum disorder has become increasingly a challenge. I don’t react well to intrusions into my quiet time, I do not socialize outside of the home much because the recovery time for me is lengthier than it used to be. I get grumpy if I feel intruded upon too much. It unnerves me. I do look back on those times fondly, in part because I was able to be social. People don’t realize that those on the spectrum want to be social. We just cannot be social all the time

George Herbert Walker Bush was our president in 1991. I do not remember ever hating him back then. I disliked his policies and I disliked the fact that we were at war in Iraq. The Middle East has never seemed like a place for American soldiers, in my opinion. Those people don’t like each other, and I don’t think they ever will. Why we have to get in the middle of it all the time is truly beyond me. I am 28 years older now than I was then, and I still don’t understand our constant involvement in the Middle East. It seems a never-ending circle of death for American soldiers to me. 

Times Were Hard

My mind still goes back to a time when I held the hands of dying friends, like Christopher, with tears in their eyes, knowing there was absolutely nothing that could be done. Watching someone die, resigned to their fate, is a very difficult thing to when that person hasn’t led a full life. You mourn the years that should have been.You wonder whose lives they should have touched, the loves they should have had. . . 

What was extremely troubling, and has haunted the legacy of President GHW Bush, was his continuation of the Reagan administration’s neglect of the AIDS crisis. So many in the LGBTQ community hold them personally responsible for the deaths of countless people in our community. As recently as a year ago I was accused of being a single-issue voter, which I’m not and never have been. The accusation was because of my concern over gay rights issues. That just happens to be a life or death thing for me! As is healthcare. As is social security being there when I am 67 years old one day. As is the housing crisis. As is gerrymandering and voting problems, lobbying, term limits, and a nauseating list I don’t want to focus on at this moment.

I digress. The AIDS crisis is still held against the senior Bush. I have recently seen many people bring this up the last two days. I’ve seen some very hateful things said and shared on social media. I’d be a liar if I said that it didn’t make me sad because it makes me weep for the society we have become. We are just very hateful now! 

Human beings are imperfect. Our special qualities have always been in our ability to forgive, to love, and to understand that none of us is perfect. We all struggle with our demons and we all make mistakes. Some of us make bigger mistakes than others. What I base my judgements of people on is whether or not they intended to harm others. I also look at whether or not the individual has done anything to redeem themselves. 

Should Four Years Determine Your Legacy?

The patriarch of the Bush family has left behind a legacy of charity work that most of us will never achieve. George HW Bush worked in every way he could to do bipartisan work with Bill Clinton, to bring humanitarian aid to others. He supported and founded the Bush Clinton Coastal Recovery Fund. He also supported the following charities: Covenant House, FC Harlem, Heifer International, Save the Children, Smile Train, United Nations Development Program, and the Vijay Amritraj Foundation.

President Bush was a man who could reach across aisles and do what he thought was best for the country. He lied about his age so that he could fight for his country. He is guilty of imperfection. Aren’t we all? Has he fully made up for the lives lost to AIDS? I’m not sure that he could ever have done that. Is it so hard to believe that in the early days of AIDS many people made bad decisions? They did. It caused a loss of life greater than what it probably should have been. Is the man responsible or was it the era that we lived in? We have learned more and we have moved on. Have we not?

I can tell you that Christopher would say that ‘the guy did a lot of great things the rest of his life. He made his peace with his own God.’ Forgiveness is the only way forward. Today, I’m making the choice to forgive him and move on. While we shouldn’t use our current administration to normalize anything, I do believe that it certainly must be a basis for clarity.

We can say a lot of good things about the senior Bush. We can say that he was a man who made mistakes but tried to do much that was right with is life. We can say that he was a sensitive man, a family man who loved his children and his grandchildren. He was one of the last truly moderate Republicans who could listen and work with democrats. He was from an era that wasn’t all that bad, even though it wasn’t totally good. 

The older I get, the more I want peace. I have learned to pick and choose my battles and I’ve learned when to forgive. This is a case that I will choose the latter and show my respect to a man who gave most of his life in service to his country. An honorable member of the armed forces, he never shirked his duties. He knew what decorum meant. Even in death, there is a calm, quiet dignity that we are not accustomed to anymore. I can welcome this return to tradition and values today, with my hand over my heart. 

“Thank-you for your service, Mr. President.”

Categories: aging, American government, death, equal rights, gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love, Politics | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Is Transitioning Becoming Too Easy?



I realize that this may be a touchy subject, so I’m going to make it clear right away that I mean no disrespect to anyone.  It isn’t really my style to purposely hurt anyone or to judge anyone. My intention right now is to delve into a topic of discussion that I’ve had recently with a few people close to me.

As a butch woman, I have to deal with a great deal of prejudice from a lot of people. The direction from which this prejudice comes is sometimes astonishing to me. Other lesbians who are more of a feminine persuasion and are attracted to the same type of feminine woman have a tendency to talk to me like I’m dirt sometimes. They do not understand me and often go out of their way to say things like, “you are just trying to be a man” or “if I wanted to be with a man, I’d choose a man” and so on and so on. I’m not going to get into all the things that being butch means, but it certainly does not mean that I want to be a man. I consider myself to be a combination of masculine and feminine energy that compliment each other in ways that bless me in my life. I feel that I’m lucky to be me.

I’ve grown to believe that sexuality is a very fluid thing.  I believe that we are all capable of loving men or women, regardless of who we are. We may never act on it, but I honestly believe that many people would if they hadn’t already been taught by society that it is somehow “wrong” to do so. I also believe that this early programming has seriously affected lesbians in many ways. Sexuality simply cannot be placed into a box of choice.

I believe that many years ago, lesbians thought that they had to give-up their femininity in order to be gay. It was almost expected that women act more masculine in those days because they were a lesbian; society had a vision of what a lesbian was and that was anything but feminine. Many women felt they had to give-up dreams of having children or families in order to live up to some sort of ideal. Only in the last twenty to thirty years are we realizing that we don’t have to choose one or the other. We can be lesbians and be parents. We can paint our nails, wear heels or we can wear jeans and a ball cap. We truly can have it all.

As we (lesbians) have evolved, there seems to have become some sort of a split with many sub-groups. There are now so many labels that I personally cannot keep up with them and I certainly imagine that heterosexuals are confused as well. Being butch, I’m noticing that more and more butch women are gravitating towards transitioning from female to male in larger numbers than ever. I notice that there is a rise in interest in binding, top surgery and a desire to even mimic male behavior patterns more so than ever before. I’m a little puzzled by this because I’ve always been proud to be lesbian and even more proud to be butch. I’ve always felt that I was better than men because I could embrace the masculine while having the brains to know better behavior. I am comfortable with my masculine nature but I am also very comfortable to be a woman underneath it all. I embrace my softer side; the part of me that enjoys cuddling and having a good cry from time to time. I feel that I have managed to take the best of both worlds – male and female – and make them uniquely my own. I believe in respecting women, holding the door for them, getting the chair for them and holding them in only the way a butch woman can. I also believe that it’s okay for me to cry, be soft and enjoy putting my head on someone’s shoulder sometimes and showing my vulnerability. This makes me feel whole.

My concern is that because transitioning is so easy to do now (and so common) that it may just be too easy. Just like Botox and boob jobs, people now think nothing of taking “T” and growing a beard. Honestly, I’m concerned that someone in their twenties is not fully equipped to make this decision. Before some of you get your boxers in a bunch and tell me that the difference is that you see yourself as a guy in the mirror, let me cut you off and tell you that there was a time that I did too.

You see, when I was much younger I considered whether or not that the choice to transition would be right for me. I didn’t take it lightly and I went through a phase where I probably had “penis envy” in a way. I used to think that I was in the wrong body but not because I truly felt that way on my own – society was making me feel that way. I am saying that I was slowly conditioned to look at myself the way others did…I had short hair and I had big hands and feet. People assumed I was a man and still do. I’m often called “sir” out in public. The fact is that it doesn’t bother me. I am secretly pleased to know I am a female underneath it all. By the time I was in my thirties I had come to a point where I learned to like myself exactly as I was.

I think all human beings go through this phase, but because it has become so popular to blame our sexuality for unhappiness, many butch lesbians think that transitioning will make them happy or whole. I’m not entirely convinced that this is the case for most. That said, there are people who honestly do need to transition in order to live a whole life;  they are truly mentally the opposite sex. I’m not disavowing anyone here. I just wonder if it has gotten too easy, like taking Xanax instead learning to deal with your life? Has transitioning become the latest plastic surgery fad and is it being done because doctors see it as a way to make a lot of money? Are we making it too “cool” to do?

I worry that fewer and fewer women live as butch because they don’t see that as a viable option anymore. Pressure from society and from those we might hear referred to as “lipstick lesbians” make us feel unwanted by our own community at times. Is this what makes us feel that the only option is to conform to what the world thinks we should be? I wonder where are the proud butch women now? It seems they are being replaced by a younger generations of “bois” and female to males in transition. I’m concerned if this is because we are placing too much pressure on young butches, making them feel that they need to be something other than what they are. I’d love to hear comments from others on this.

Again, I stress that I am not in any way trying to talk bad about those who choose to transition. I’ve always been very supportive and have friends who are in transition and are fully transitioned. I just feel that this is a valid argument that needs to be discussed and I wonder if we need to be having this discussion more openly rather than just automatically telling our friends to go ahead and transition?

A friend of mine has a friend who is in the hospital right now, possibly dying from an infection that is the result of a compromised immune system – a side effect of transition and hormone replacement therapy. This happens in some cases, as well as other medical complications. There are also many other things to consider, such as never being able to afford bottom surgery – which is also not perfected yet. Someone may start the transition and never fully complete it for many reasons. Personally, I could not handle being in this sort of sexual limbo or giving up sexual satisfaction…which is the case most of the time. I’d really like to hear the opinions of my readers on this. Please, keep it respectful as people from all walks of life read this blog. Thanks!

Categories: equal rights, gay lesbian, lesbian | Tags: , , , , | 30 Comments

A Little Sex With My Coffee, Please


My eyes took in every detail of her, as she stood in the kitchen. The morning sun was shining through the door as she carefully spooned the coffee into the filter that would soon be brewing and sending the robust aroma through the entire apartment. I love moments like these, snapshots in time. No details pass me by. Her hair glistened from the rays of sunlight that highlighted the right side of her face. With her hair up, I could see the short, fine hairs that rested against her neck in unruly fashion. I loved her in the mornings, when her hair was disheveled and her eyes were half closed.

Stepping forward, I reached my arms around her and kissed the back of her neck. There was no reason to, yet there were I million reasons why I did – none of which I could ever put into words. Touching her was ecstatic for me. It was as if my skin and hers melded together, knowing that they were of the same stardust and when our molecules combined the result was goosebumps, fireworks and absolute passion. She sighed and leaned back against me, rubbing my forearms with her hands. I watched her arms as they moved. She had soft, blonde hair on her arms and the way her muscles moved was fascinating for me to watch. Her arms and hands were sensual and attractive to me. I often watched her movements in everything that she did. I was mesmerized by her arms and hands and I’d stand and watch her put on her make-up sometimes, just to watch her hands. They were graceful, strong and artistic. When her hand was in mine, I could never stop smiling at how tiny they were in comparison, yet they were not weak in any way. Her hands showed their years of labor and wisdom gained, yet they remained delicate and dignified to me. I loved them most when they were on my naked body, doing the most dirty of things.

My right hand reached underneath her loose top and found her bare breast. She immediately grew hard against my fingertips. Softly, she moaned and I could see her smile. Her back arched against me – an invitation to take what I wanted. I continued to kiss her neck and my other hand made its way underneath her top so that I now had both breasts in my hands. She continued to run her soft hands up and down my forearms, moaning louder now. I nibbled at her ear and softly whispered to her, “I want you right here and now.”

With this, she turned to face me and our lips met in a long, slow and seductive kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that lovers share when they know they are about to embark on a journey of passion. It was that kiss that said, “my body and my soul are yours, take me.”

My hands wandered up and down the small of her back as our lips played-out their own seduction. I could feel her breasts against me and wanted to feel them in my mouth desperately. Slowly I began to playfully tug at her top to pull it up. She stepped back and helped me by raising her arms as I lifted it up and over her head, right there in the kitchen. Naked to the waist now, the only thing she had left on her body was a pair of lace panties. I was in a fever as I pulled her close to me and kissed her again. My hands quickly found her breasts again and began teasing, twisting and gently tugging at her nipples until they were so hard they could have cut glass. Her moaning drove my passion to such a high that it felt as if I’d be consumed by my own flames.

Taking her left nipple in my mouth, I felt her body tense and rise to meet me. I head her gasp, then cry out, “oh…God!” I could smell her passion now and I knew that she was soaking wet in those lace panties. I fought the urge to touch her there though, knowing that the longer I waited the more intense would be her explosion for me later. I switched to her other breast and continued to massage, caress and lovingly touch the rest of her body with my hands. My fingers stroked her shoulders, arms, back, ribs, hips and cupped the cheeks of her ass while I sucked and nibbled at both of her breasts until she was completely weak in the knees.

Slowly and softly I began to run my fingers under the band of her panties….back and forth….back and forth. Each time, I stroked my fingers a little deeper until I was nearly touching her lips and my fingers played with her hair, stroking and exploring. I could feel her hands on my back, digging in and her body trembling as I came closer and closer to her flame. Finally, my middle finger parted her lips and I could feel her flood. She grasped my shoulders hard now and pushed to lean back, looking directly into my eyes. As my eyes met hers, in a show of domination, I chose that moment to penetrate her with my fingers….watching her face for the reaction. Her mouth opened and she gasped but she remained in my gaze, never looking away. I stroked her, then pulled out to play with her clit before I let my fingers dip inside her again and simply stretch and play with her. I knew I was making her crazy when she lifted her leg to wrap it around my hip. She was opening herself wider for what she wanted, hoping that I’d get her physical hint.

I withdrew my hand long enough to move her leg back to the floor, quickly strip her panties all the way off and then lift her to the kitchen counter. “Take this off,” she beseeched me to remove my shirt, so that she could feel my skin against her own. Our bodies against each other was a heaven like no other. I bent my head between her legs and took her to a place inside her own mind. I watched her close her eyes and tilt her head back as she moaned, groaned, grunted and rubbed herself against me hard. She was riding my lips and my mouth was swallowing her soft, saltiness as fast as I could. I didn’t want to miss a single drop of her body’s ecstasy. I knew she was close and I wanted her to come to me with a fury. I moved my head to the side and I entered her with my hand, pushing and stretching until I was deep inside her. She screamed now, a scream that relished the slight pain in exchange for the intensity of the pleasure she was feeling. My lips again devoured her and my tongue lashed back and forth, ’round and ’round as my hand stroked her faster and faster. Her hips were moving to meet my thrusts and her cries grew louder and louder until finally she shrieked, paused and shuddered. I felt the ripple down my arm and felt the warmth of her orgasm as she continued to shake and spasm for several minutes. I held still, other than my free hand that stroked her hip and her thigh. She played with my hair and softly whispered things I could barely hear…but I understood.  When she was ready, I pulled myself free and I stood to hold her, wrapping my arms around her tightly and trying not to touch her hair with my very wet hand.

Softly, she giggled to me, “Ready for that cup of coffee yet?”

Categories: erotica, gay lesbian, lesbian, love | Tags: , , , , | 3 Comments

Falling Into The Abyss

I wanted to take the time to remind everyone that my latest book is out. “Falling Into the Abyss” deals with child abuse and how it can touch your life forever, if you let it. Even when you think you are a survivor, something may just come along and remind you that you have things you haven’t truly dealt with.



“A tale of child abuse, suicide and survival. An account of surviving the worst things life can throw at you and coming out on the side, changed for the better and able to look at life with new eyes and a new perspective. This is my story. I’ll take you from the the time 

I’ve shared my life and my journey with thousands of fans through my blog at and now I tell the whole story, with all the background. See how I came out and got to where I am today. Learn why I advocate for those who have no voice.”


Set to launch October 17th.

Set to launch October 17th.

Categories: abuse, ADHD, Adoption, child abuse, death, equal rights, gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love, Politics, self-help | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Why I Live Like I Do – Blown By the Wind

Great live version!


All My Dreams Pass Before My Eyes of Curiosity

Nothing lasts forever, but the earth and sky….no truer words were ever spoken. My philosophy on life, the actual process of living and the purpose for our existence, is far removed from that which most people feel. Firstly, I don’t believe that this is our only ride on the pony. I believe that we come back many times to this earthly realm and we learn more and more as we progress up a ladder, so to speak. In all honesty, I think it a little bold to believe that you could learn all there is to know from living only one lifetime.

I have nearly died a few times. I’ve known others in the same place. All of my life I have been very intuitive and after my parents passed it became very strong and I had to work with a woman to help teach me how to ‘turn it down’ when I needed to. I feel emotions far more deeply than many others do for this reason. I also tend to know when I am being lied to. What makes me different than most people is that I’ll forgive the lies and try to get straight to the root of the thing that is causing you to tell the lies. I am not like most people. Some might call me crazy…that’s okay. I can take it. I forgive them too. I am actually very quick to forgive, but I don’t necessarily let everyone back in. I weigh the circumstances and I wonder whether or not I can help them…or if there is another lesson for me at hand. This determines my decisions.

My belief is that before we are born, we actually plan this life out to a large degree…like an outline. You are still free to write the story the way you wish, but the general outline will guide you. I believe that we choose the battles that we are going to be facing, based on the lessons that we need to learn this time around. I was told by a psychic in 2007/08 that this was my last time to be reincarnated and that I had asked to make this lifetime to be a very big challenge. In her words, “You really wanted everything possible thrown at you so that you could really go out with a bang this time. You wanted to experience it ALL.”

To be perfectly honest….at that time, I thought she was little bit full of shit. She knows it because I sort of told her that. She’s still on my Facebook friends list and she’s honestly really good. As it turns out, I believe her now. It took me a while – it was a slow progression and almost like a game…to see what else could possibly happen and what would I survive. You see, I have complete faith now that I’m SUPPOSED to just keep going through more shit and that I will survive. I also know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I have a reward of some sort coming. I know that God is going to give me peace and rest, love and somewhere to put down roots. I can feel it moving towards me. Faith. This is my only explanation. I’ve survived many things that should have killed me. I know that I am SUPPOSED to be here, sitting in this booth right now, writing this. Someone out there is being moved by every word and their life is beginning to make more sense to them as they read on. YOU! You may be that person I am supposed to be helping right now. Have some faith and know that you are not alone. I’m aware of your pain and many others are too. You can and will survive, my friend.

My days are spent attempting to touch people with a dose of reality and trying to show others that humility is a good thing. Yes, I get confused and I get scared. You see, while my soul knows the outline I am following, I have no memory of it. For now, I’m just a human being that is also making mistakes and getting by through much trial and error. I’m simply trying to trust that I’m being shown opportunities to grow and given chances to rise above. I’m challenged and tested each and every day. We all are! Some just don’t understand it.

Same Old Song…Just a Drop of Water In An Endless Sea

I’ve risen above homelessness, hunger, my father’s suicide, near death experiences, child abuse from my mother, being cheated on by at least two people that I loved, lied to by people that I trusted with my life and being put in harm’s way, having no family in my life at all…I’m a complete loner, being diagnosed with diabetes in 2005, put on psychotropic drugs that actually caused me to lose my mind for a long time, watching someone die in my arms, being beaten half to death by three grown men just because I was a lesbian, having an older brother come to live with me and take me for money, hit me and break everything I owned for going on two years, having a younger brother go to work at the job I helped him get and tell everyone that as far as he was concerned he didn’t have a sister as long as I was gay, living in a cabin in the winter of 2011 with no running water, no heat, no electricity and surviving by letting the dogs sleep on top of me on those nights when ice formed on the inside of the walls. I’ve tried to help a lot of people who burned me badly. I’ve had people tell lies about me and others judge me. I have been diagnosed with ADHD/ADD and auditory processing disorder, anxiety, agoraphobia and a few other things. All of those issues come and go. I had a panic attack last night and my chest hurt. I knew that it would pass.

In the last month, I came to IL to help someone. She told me she loved me and she tried to hide a lot from me…but I already knew she was lying to me. Again, like I ALWAYS do…I forgave her. It just isn’t worth being angry anymore. I let go of all my anger last summer. God showed me that my life was my own and that He had honestly given me every possible chance to turn things around. This is when I realized that my purpose…my TRUE purpose in life was to help other people. Even if it is a kind word and nothing else…I feel that I can touch people in a way that can change their life. This is what I try to do each and every day now. I don’t hold onto anger and I don’t let things keep me down. Yes, I get down because I’m human, but I quickly recover and remember that I have a purpose and a meaning to my life. I move on.

These days, I’m being tried and challenged with each breath that I take. I’m single and it looks like it’s going to stay that way. You cannot help someone who refuses to be helped because their path has not yet led them to have any faith in themselves or in the world around them. I weep for her, not because she’s hurt me…but because I could not help her. I have still offered to be here and be her friend, but one thing I have become very good at – turning my feelings for someone off. If I choose not to let you in, then you are done. I only resort to this when I feel that the damage I am incurring is greater than I can heal. One of my very first lessons in life was how to save myself, even when it was very traumatic. Honestly, that trauma has followed me for many years and only recently I believe that I was forgiven for it in a way that was meant to help me move on from this current experience faster as well.

I don’t tend to regret much, as I know it is a learning experience. I do regret when I can’t help someone…but it is time for me to move on. It is time to let the wind blow me again. I place it in God’s hands and where I end-up, I trust I am supposed to be there.

~ all we are is dust in the wind….


Categories: abuse, ADHD, child abuse, death, equal rights, gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love, self-help | Tags: , , , , , | 7 Comments

Finding Redemption


None But Ourselves Can Free Our Minds ….

What a truly awful and challenging couple of weeks. Last week I lost my dog of 13 years. I absolutely do not want to talk about it. It was devastating to me. He was my best friend…in many ways, he was my only friend. For 13 years he rode shotgun, licked my tears away and never failed to wiggle his Australian Shepherd behind for me. When I was highly depressed, in the early years, he acted as my service dog. Captain was his call name. He had a fancy paper name…but we never cared about that. To me, he was “The Captain of My Heart” and I’m pretty sure it will be a long, long time before i can bring myself to have another dog…if ever.

Born February 12th, 2000 – Captain visited many hospitals, nursing homes and rarely passed a child without giving them a lick. He was a lover of cats, puppies, children, he let a parakeet sit on his head, a monkey sit on his back once; he even made friends with a pet skunk. The dog simply was a lover, not a fighter. I miss you buddy. You have touched my life forever and will never ever be forgotten. He graces the cover a short little book, “My Dog Taught Me Everything I Know,” that he inspired me to write. It’s just a little motivator. Any money from it has always gone to help other dogs in need. I pledge the money to dogs who need surgeries, donate it to the local shelters and I will never ever keep a dime of it.

Totally posing for me. I could leave him in the middle of Petsmart in a down-stay and come back and get him in 30 minutes. He wouldn't budge.

Totally posing for me. I could leave him in the middle of PetsMart in a down-stay and come back and get him in 30 minutes. He wouldn’t budge.


We Got To Fulfill the Book

A woman I knew and loved over twenty years ago popped up on my screen with “How the hell are you??” about a week ago. I’d looked for her many times. Always wondered about her and worried. There’s more to that story that I’m not prepared to talk about publicly yet too. We’ve talked a whole lot in the past few days and I’m glad she’s been around. The song above was her way of attempting to cheer me up today. She told me to listen to it over and over.

I think she and I have had similar lessons from life, yet traveled very different paths. I always considered her a wealth of information and she still is. That has been a bright spot for me recently…yet, very emotional at the same time. It’s been a “good emotional experience” but draining.  I’m glad she’s back in my world though…I think it’s a little brighter to have a friend that remembers who I used to be. It feels like my world is coming full circle in so many ways. I’m not unhappy at the place I am at. Not at all.

Yet, today I found out something that has me feeling completely devastated – on top of everything else. The person I find myself currently involved with has presented me with some very interesting and heavy challenges. I don’t know how I am going to work through this. I truly don’t. I found myself in the shower this evening, crying my eyes out and asking God what I was doing wrong. OBVIOUSLY I am doing something wrong. I mean…I’ve dated a woman who was co-owner of a dental clinic, a dental hygienist AND a dentist in the last 4 years….and I still need dental work done! Obviously, I am doing SOMETHING wrong!! (my sarcasm NEVER fails me)

She and I are now attempting to figure out something that I don’t know CAN be figured out. I want to! I want to waive a magic wand and make it all better…but this isn’t going to resolve itself. I can’t resolve it for her either. She has to do this on her own and all I can do is tell her that I’m here when she decides what she wants to do. Like Motel 6, I can leave the light on – and that’s about all I can do for her. It’s frustrating, heartbreaking and I am tired of crying! Everyone who walks by me looks at me, then quickly looks away because no one wants to deal with someone else in tears.

It’s too cold outside to sleep in the RV, so I’ve been holed-up inside the truck stop; reduced to hiding in a far corner booth and sleeping with my head on a table. Luckily, I am not the only one. A lot of truckers don’t want to waste their fuel running heat either…so they are in here with me and I”m just doing what I’ve done my whole life – blending in. The down side is that I am not sleeping much and I am purely exhausted and attempting to deal with all this stuff on zero sleep. I’ve slept 2-4 hours in the last 36 hours. I’m falling asleep while sitting up, trying to finish this.

I’m reaching my breaking point. Don’t know how much more I can put up with and what my limits actually are…but I know I am getting close. I never ask you all for this…but right now, pray for me. If you don’t pray, think if me and send me some of your energy because I could use the strength and some guidance. Thanks to Ellen, Sheila and Toby for helping by listening today. Thanks to Chris, Deborah, Luise, Marie, Molly and Doreen for all offering support, their phone numbers, showers and whatever else they could think of. Special thanks to Luise and Jo B. for helping me to be able to leave FL safely. You all have been well above and beyond anything that I could ever ask for or expect. Sheila, thanks for making sure I could get my RV back when it was towed. What would I do without all you wonderful people!? I really love you all. I know that I am blessed with wonderful people who care about me, as well as follow everything I do. Thank-you, from the bottom of my heart. Also, thanks to the rest of you. Sorry I couldn’t mention you all by name. It would be a very long blog! I appreciate you too – even if you don’t see your name here. I promise I don’t forget you.



Categories: gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love, self-help | Tags: , , , , , | 9 Comments

For Those of You Left Hanging With Sam and Lexi Falling Asleep On the Sofa

Sneak Peak At Twisted:Sexual Fantasies Vol. 2

Coming in February!!

Will Sam and Lexi get back together or will Sam be won over by the wealthy older woman who wants a boi toy?

Will Sam and Lexi get back together or will Sam be won over by the wealthy older woman who wants a boi toy?

Chapter One in Entirety – Enjoy!

 It was a muggy, hot Atlanta day. The heat and humidity were thick and hung like a blanket in the air that smothered the southern city, like gravy on mashed potatoes.

The smell of oil and gas were in the air and Sam had her head under the hood of a car. She was replacing a fan belt on a Chevy Impala and her thoughts were on other things. The air wrench was running in the background and the compressor was kicking on and off. It was part of the normal daily grind here at the garage. Sweat trickled down her back and ran down her arms as she worked.

Her mind was wandering. She thought of the last time she’d seen Lexi. It had been three months. So long ago. It felt like years. She’d been drunk. Falling down, slur your words, puke your guts out drunk.

She’d called Lexi to come and get her because she’d been far to plastered to think about going home on her own. Hell, she couldn’t have stood and walked at that point. She called Lexi because Lexi was the only other person in the world who knew about the promise to Wilson. He made her pinky swear and she’d never ever drive drunk because of it. Being an alcoholic made that rather difficult. Still, Wilson was the only damned person in this crazy fucking world that had ever been there for her as a child and she’d never disrespect him, even though he’d been dead a good two years now.

Being the great person that Lexi was, she had rushed right out into the night and come to her rescue. Sam thought about that night and really couldn’t remember much of the ride or even getting to Lexi’s apartment.

She awakened in the early morning hours to find herself on the sofa. Lexi was curled up with her, snuggled close with her head on her chest. Sam sighed deeply as she remembered the way Lexi felt that morning. She could close her eyes and actually feel her right now.

Waking-up with Lexi’s hair in her face and the smell of her … the thought of it made Sam tingle right now. Her wrench slipped from her hands and fell into the engine, clanking around until it finally bounced to the floor under the front end of the car. “Shit!” She swore under her breath as she squatted down and ultimately had to crawl part way underneath the car to retrieve the crescent wrench.

Her thoughts went back to Lexi and how she’d touched her cheek and softly stroked it. The skin was so soft and warm to the touch and she could imagine it so well right now. She recalled how Lexi’s eyes opened and smiled at her. It was barely twilight outside and the room was just barely lit enough that she could see Lexi’s face and the beautiful dreamy look on her still half-asleep face. She was cuddly and warm and she stretched against Sam.

“Are you okay?”, she asked Sam as she softly touched Sam’s stomach with her hand and stroked her.

“Wow … I feel like shit. My head hurts,” Sam responded as she reached for her head.

“Do you want something? You probably need to eat too,” Lexi sat up and and straddled over the top of Sam to get up to the floor and walked to the bathroom. Sam laid her head back down and put her hand over her eyes as she tried to not focus on the jack-hammering in her head.

The toilet flushed, the water in the sink ran and the bathroom door creaked open. Lexi came back with some ibuprofen in her hand. She stopped by the kitchen for a glass of water, walked back to the sofa and handed them both to Sam.

“Thanks, Lex,” Sam groaned softly. She sat up very slowly and popped the pills into her mouth, then chased them with a mouth full of water. She remembered how good that water felt as it flowed down her throat. It it hit her stomach with a splash that indicated there was nothing else down there. ‘Okay, she thought, maybe I am hungry?’ She drank down the rest of the water.

Lexi was already in the kitchen, trying to quietly get some pans out so that she could make them breakfast. Sam watched her and thought to herself that she wasn’t worthy of Lexi’s attention or friendship. She’d treated her so badly, yet Lexi was still always there for her.

Sam quietly swung her feet to the floor and drug herself to the bathroom. Her feet felt like lead weights and her head was pounding. ‘Why do I do this to myself?’ She dropped her pants and sat on the toilet and relieved her bladder. It didn’t feel like she was ever going to stop pissing. When she finally stood and flushed the toilet, she turned to the sink and began to wash her hands. She glanced in the mirror and stopped rubbing her hands together for a moment.

She looked at her eyebrows, her nose, the line of her jaw and the shape of her chin. She wondered where they came from. Do I look like anyone? Sometimes when she was out in public she’d run into someone who looked a lot like her and she’d be tempted to strike up a conversation, just hoping that she’d find out that they were adopted too. Then her mind would turn to fantasies; they’d become the best of friends, find out that they were siblings and then she’d have someone that was there for her from now on. She was also positive that her mother was going to turn-out to be someone truly spectacular. She kept looking at herself, staring closely. I bet it’s Joan Jett. She mumbled out loud, “Yeah … has to be. Look at the eyes, the cheekbones.” Sam had been fantasizing that Joan Jett would turn-out to be her mother for the past three years, ever since her mom had died – but not before dropping the bombshell on Sam that she was adopted.

Sam walked back out to reality to find Lexi still in the kitchen and the apartment smelling like bacon that was coming off the grill.

Sometimes Sam felt like the best thing that she could do for Lexi would be to just leave Atlanta and never see her again. She knew Lexi loved her. Hell, she loved Lexi too, but it wasn’t ever going to work out. ‘I’m too fucked-up,’ she thought to herself. She sighed loudly and Lexi looked-up at her. Sam smiled and made her way to the kitchen.

“What are you making?” She was dipping her finger into batter and already knew Lexi was making pancakes. She knew Lexi put vanilla and cinnamon in her pancake batter and it was the bomb. She loved it and Lexi knew she did. It was a dirty trick to get her to stay longer but it was going to work.

“I figured you hadn’t had much to eat before you went drinking. I thought that pancakes would fill you up good?” Lexi smiled as she said it. She was that girl … the one who enjoyed cooking and doing things for other people. Lexi was just sweet like that. She never seemed to have a care in the world and was always smiling and always helpful.

The first pancakes were on the griddle and the smell of cinnamon and vanilla now filled the air. Combined with the smell of the bacon, it was pure heaven.

Sam reached into the fridge and pulled the butter out and then the syrup. It felt a little strange, being here and feeling so at home that she could just help herself to the fridge. She’d been here with Lexi so many times though. They had been together as a couple in another small apartment not so unlike this one. She remembered how nice it had been, before she had starting screwing things up. It all really started with the adoption bomb. Sam could have blamed her mother for everything in her life, including losing Lexi.

Just as she turned around with the butter and syrup in her hands. Lexi had turned to face her. They met almost face to face, barely avoiding a collision. Sam couldn’t move, her hands were full and Lexi was right there in her face. It had just happened. They kissed. It wasn’t a very long kiss, but it was a soft, sweet kiss. Sam closed her eyes as she imagined Lexi’s lips and how soft they were that day in the kitchen.

She had pushed Lexi back towards the counter, reached around her to put the items in her hands down. Then she slipped her hands around Lexi’s waist and pulled her close to her and just held her for a moment.

Lexi had whispered softly in her ear, “I’m going to burn the pancakes,” as she giggled softly. She pulled away and turned around to the pancakes but continued to talk, “I was going to see if you wanted to get the milk out or if you wanted me to make coffee?”

“I’ll make coffee. You do what you’re doing. That smells so good, you are making me starved,” Sam gently touched Lexi’s shoulder as she answered her. She knew Lexi turned away on purpose that day. She thought about how it stuck her like a knife, but Lexi was right to do it. They didn’t belong together and something happening between them would have only made it all harder on both of them.

She went on to the business of making coffee. She pulled the bag of coffee from the freezer and grabbed a filter from the cabinet. In a moment she had the water in the machine and the smell of coffee was beginning to fill the air. She grabbed a mug from the cabinet and put it on the counter.

“Sit,” Lexi was putting a big plate of pancakes on the table. “I’ll get your coffee when it’s done. You need to sit and eat before you pass out from not eating.”

“I’m not gonna pass-out, Lex,” Sam smiled as she complied. She didn’t put much of a fight up because she really wanted those pancakes right now.

“Milk?” Lexi asked her as she was pouring herself a glass.

“Sure, yeah that sounds great,” Sam was beginning to feel a little mothered but it wasn’t all bad. The coffee was ready and Lexi made Sam’s cup, remembering exactly how she liked it and placed the milk and coffee down in front of her. Then she sat down across from Sam and they both began to eat.

There was an almost awkward silence now. Sam looked down at her plate most of the time. She could feel Lexi’s eyes on her and she wasn’t sure if she could look her in the eyes right now. She felt like a total shit at this point.

Here she was, in Lexi’s apartment, eating her food and more or less intruding on her life and her space. All this after fighting so bitterly so many times. She felt all of sudden like she shouldn’t really be there.

Finally it was Lexi who broke the silence. “You know, you really should take better care of yourself, Sam. I worry about you.”

“Don’t worry about me, Lex. I’m fine,” Sam answered but only barely glanced up at Lexi. She took a swig of her coffee and thought, ‘Jesus, how does she still get it just right?’

Sam, you’re killing yourself slowly but surely with the drinking. You can’t keep this up forever. It’s going to catch-up with you.”

“Come on, don’t start. I’m sorry I got trashed last night but I don’t do it all the time anymore. At least I didn’t try to drive, right?” Sam was trying to be funny but it wasn’t working very well at this point. She diverted her gaze back down to her plate.

“No, you didn’t try to drive, thankfully. Still, you can’t keep this up. You’re going to make yourself have ulcers or something. Think about what you are doing to your liver,” Lexi was honestly trying to be nice and show her concern but it wasn’t having the desired effect.

Sam was beginning to feel picked-on and withdrawing into herself as she always did at times like this. She opened her mouth and she probably shouldn’t have, “Look, Lexi, you aren’t my mother. I don’t know who is – but it sure as shit isn’t you! I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

“It didn’t seem like you could last night?” This was potentially the worst thing Lexi could have said. 

Sam stood and pushed her chair back. She walked her plate to the sink and said, “Well, thanks for the breakfast and for coming to get me last night. I’m gonna split. I can’t listen to this crap right now.”

“You can’t listen to this crap?” Lexi was sort of incredulous now. She couldn’t believe that was how Sam was taking it. “I’m only trying to show you that I care about you! I don’t want you to die, Sam.”

“Lexi, I’m not going to die. Besides, maybe if I did it would be easier on all of us. God knows, I’m not too worried about it anymore. I could die today and be just fine with it. My life sucks and I don’t have any reason to live. Look at us, Lexi! I’ve destroyed us. I’ve destroyed me. Hell, I never really was okay ever. Fuck it. I need to go.” Sam was literally on the verge of tears and she just felt the need to run out the door.

Lexi just sat in her chair, sort of stunned but not all that shocked. This was the way things seemed to always go with Sam these days. She was in pain, she was angry and she was honestly trying to kill herself slowly and painfully. This much was pretty obvious. Lexi was at her wits end and really had no clue what to say or do. “So that’s it? You’re just going? Just like that?”

“Yes,” Sam was putting on her shoes at the couch.

“Okay,” Lexi knew she couldn’t stop her. “How are you going to get to your car? Don’t you want me to give you a ride?”

“I’ll take the bus. Thanks,” and with that and without once looking back, Sam had stormed out the door. She walked to the bus stop as tears began to burn in her eyes. By the time she was sitting on the bench in front of the complex, she was completely in tears. No matter what happened, she always seemed to hurt Lexi and feel hurt herself. All she wanted, more than anything else in the world was to go back in that apartment and throw her arms around that woman in there and tell her that she loved her and lay down with her. She wanted Lexi to hold her and let her cry it all out and to fall asleep in Lexi’s arms and know that someone wanted her. She didn’t walk back and she didn’t tell Lexi how she really felt. She never really told Lexi what she thought our how she felt. She thought to herself, ‘I could fuck-up a wet dream couldn’t I?’

Back to reality, Sam realized she had a tear in her eye and she used her sleeve to brush it away as she worked under the hood of the car. She was almost done with the job she was working on.

Just then she heard the car pull-up outside of the garage door. The sound of the car had her attention. This was not a typical car and her mechanic’s ear knew without a doubt that this was a high-end car before her eyes saw it.

She squinted into the morning sunshine. It was only about 10am and the sun was straight in her face. Her eyes came to rest on the car, it was dark green. The sun made it glisten in the morning air. The paint was like a mirror and the car was regal with chrome and sleek lines. The car was an Astin Martin. It was a very rare car, especially in these parts. There it sat, in the downtown Atlanta parking lot, looking like royalty that had come slumming.

The door opened and a very long and sexy, bare leg stretched-out to the pavement. She was wearing heels that were electric blue. There was a spaghetti string that wrapped around the ankle and tied into a bow. ‘Sexy’

Sam was ready for a Jennifer Anniston type model to step out of the car. In reality, what stepped out was a very beautiful woman with a great figure, a hot blue dress that went with the shoes. It was slit up one side and showed a lot of thigh. Her tan was dark, she had several gold rings on that screamed money and she was definitely over fifty years old. She was probably the best looking woman at that age that Sam had ever seen. She watched the woman stroll to the office to talk to the boss.

What a morning. Sam had already spent the better part of two hours totally distracted and then this pulls in? The car had her drooling. The driver had her wanting to go sneak off to the bathroom and watch porn on her Android phone. ‘Not good, Sam,’ she thought to herself.

She attempted to go back to work, even though the day was just one major distraction after another. In fact, it seemed like this was just her life, now that she thought about it. She was just always distracted by one thing or another. She tried to think of a time she was really focused on anything to speak of. Nothing came to mind.

She was suddenly aware that the green royalty was being pulled into the bay at the opposite end. ‘Fucking SCOTT gets to work on it! No way!’ Sam was devastated. Scott was an asshole and he wasn’t even that good.

She listened to what was going on and surmised that the car was having an electrical issue. That actually made her feel better. She hated screwing around with electrical crap. Let Scott trace wires all day. Sam liked to pull parts off of cars and get greasy. That was what she lived for. Give her a wrench and let her turn it. Let her have to scrub the grease off her hands at the end of the day. That made her happy. In fact, it was about the only happy part of her life. I get paid to get dirty. Her mind immediately went to the gutter and she chuckled.

She was done and she popped down the hood, hopped in the car and drove it out to the lot. She parked it like always and walked back inside with the keys and paperwork. As Sam stepped into the office, she placed the paperwork in the outbox at her boss’ desk and hung the keys on the pegboard behind the desk. He had his system and you didn’t dare mess with it. He’d jump your ass quick if you didn’t put things where they belonged.

The air conditioning felt fantastic and she wanted to linger a moment or two, to cool down. She walked to the water cooler and helped herself to a cup from the dispenser and filled it, drank it down and filled it again. She repeated the process three times. Why don’t they make these damn cups bigger?

She glanced over and saw the hot, older woman in the blue dress sitting in the lobby. She looked very out of place and somewhat uncomfortable. Sam doubted very much that the woman was enjoying sitting here in this grubby old garage. It was a busy garage with a great reputation. It had been in the neighborhood for more than thirty years. While it wasn’t completely filthy, it wasn’t like they had a cleaning lady either. The lobby wasn’t awful by any means and the air conditioning wasn’t bad, but the Taj Mahal it was not. If the toilets got cleaned once a week and the carpet vacuumed once a month they were doing good.

Just then, Sam heard her boss come out of his back office and bark her name, “Sam! I have a job for you. You’re going to give Miss Estelle a ride home.”

Sam froze in place. ‘Miss Estelle?’ she thought to herself. She looked over at the woman sitting there and said, “You’re Estelle?”

“Yes, I’m she,” the woman said with a smile.

Sam turned to look at her boss who was standing in the room now. “You want me to take her in my car?”

“Yeah, if that is okay with you. Otherwise you can drive the wrecker,” he snorted as he sorted through the papers on his desk.

“Well, no I don’t wanna drive the wrecker. I’m on the clock though right?” she asked because this was completely out of the ordinary. She’d never been asked to give anyone a ride home. It honestly sounded like a great way to play some hooky though.

“Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled without even looking up from the desk. It was dismissive, but this was his way. He tended to always be a crusty old man, but truthfully he was a pretty good boss to have. He expected you to tow the line, be at work and do your job. End of story.

Sam turned to look at Estelle and said, “Are you ready, ma’am?”

“Yes. I’m ready if you are. I very much appreciate you driving me home. I told your boss that I would call a cab but he insisted that one of you could drive me,” Estelle stood and smoother out her dress as she did. She tucked her purse over her bent arm and walked towards the door.

Sam moved to push the door open and held it open from behind the woman. As she stepped out into the parking lot behind her, she motioned towards her car and smiled, “I don’t think you are going to be quite as comfortable in my car as you are in your own. Sorry.”

“Oh don’t be silly! This is an American classic. A true muscle car. This was one of the sexiest cars ever made … and fast,” Estelle’s face showed her true exuberance for the car and cars in general. Sam was impressed.

Sam unlocked the passenger side door and held it for Estelle and held it as she slid into the low riding muscle car. She slammed the door shut. Those long, heavy doors needed a good slam. Not like today’s fiberglass at all. It made Sam smile. The car was a tank and she knew it. Still, it was a little light in the rear end and she disliked that on those rare occasions that they got a little ice on the Atlanta roads. Thankfully that didn’t happen very often.

Sam slid into her place in the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition, turned it over and the engine roared. A 351 Cleveland, V-8 engine with power to spare and it was Sam’s baby. She had more or less rebuilt this engine, a piece at a time over the years. She knew every nook and cranny of this engine.

“Nice. I love a car that makes me tremble in my seat,” Estelle grinned a little.

Sam laughed openly. The last thing she’d have expected of a woman like Estelle was to find that she had a thing for muscle cars. It was almost too funny to believe.

As Sam drove, Estelle pointed her left and right. They talked small talk for the most part. Soon the downtown skyline gave way to the suburbs with the fine Atlanta mansions that the historic city of the south was known for. The homes in this neighborhood were easily in the millions of dollars. Sam felt very out of place and she couldn’t help but stare at some of the houses as she drove the mustang past them. It was like being in another world.

Sam had never really ventured out of the city much and she’d never seen money up close like this either. She made $13.47 an hour, which was actually good money in the south, but she wasn’t getting rich either.

Estelle pointed her into the drive of her home. It was a long, winding drive that was actually paved in bricks. There were magnolia trees lining the road back to the plantation house that Estelle called home. Sam thought that she even spotted a dogwood or two as she drove by.

The blue mach I pulled to the front of palatial mansion and came to a halt. Sam was in complete awe. As she put the car in park, Estelle turned to her and said, “I want you to come in with me for a moment, please.”

“Okay, sure,” Sam had no idea why Estelle wanted her to come in but it seemed like you didn’t question a woman like this. Besides, she really wanted to see the inside of this place. It was insanely huge. She turned the ignition off, pulled the key and opened the door to step out. She could smell the magnolia trees as the gentle Georgia breeze tickled her nose with the perfume of the southern state. It was like being in another world from the downtown cement jungle with the businesses and high rises in the skyline.

There were columns in the front of the house. They ran from the base of the cement landing to the roof overhang. It felt like an old plantation, yet it was clearly a newer home. Many of the southern mansions were fashioned after plantations, especially in Georgia. It was a traditional state – known for it’s peach plantations, peanut farms, conservative politics and it was the home of Coca Cola. Georgia had also produced a lot of cotton back in the days of yesteryear. Sam almost felt like she could close her eyes and go back in time.

Wilson crossed her mind. Seeing the old mustang parked here, in the circle drive at this palace, it felt like he was here with her and she wondered how he felt. He had often talked about his days as a child, working next to his parents and siblings as sharecroppers. As a young boy, he had been forced to get up early and pick cotton until it was too dark to see at night.

He hadn’t come to the city until he was well into his twenties. She pondered this, thinking about the poverty that he had lived through as a child. As she stared at all this wealth in front of her, somehow it just didn’t seem right.

She followed Estelle into the entry way for the mansion and she gasped. Her entire apartment would fit into just this entry way. She guessed this was what actually was called a foyer? She felt a little stupid standing there suddenly. For the first time in her whole life, she realized what a huge world it really was. Sam was actually pretty smart and paid a lot of attention to world events. She had dreams to travel around the world someday, but just now it struck her that perhaps she should venture out of downtown Atlanta once in awhile first.

Estelle smiled at her, “Come on in. Follow me, dear.”

She followed Estelle into a large room with a fireplace made of marble. It was flanked by two white, marble lion heads. Sam felt like she was standing in a version of the Greek Parthenon. Not that she’d really know, but if she tried to imagined it, this is what her mind would have dreamed-up.

The floors in the room were highly polished and seemed to be granite or possibly marble too. They were dark gray, almost black, with flecks of color in them. It looked like stone of some sort. The polish on the stone was so glossy that it was almost like looking down into a mirror on the floor.

There was a large, burgundy rug with a grouping of furniture near the fireplace. Off to the right was a grand piano and a set of wing-back chairs next to it. Plants were abundant in the room. Sam though to herself that it would probably take a full-time gardener to look after all of them.

Estelle walked to a small desk and she pulled a check book out of the drawer, “I don’t keep cash on me and I mostly use my credit cards, dear. I want to give you something for your time and for your gasoline, as well. I’m quite certain that your boss won’t be reimbursing you for your gas and I can’t have that on my conscious.”

“Oh, no…really, I can’t accept anything from you. I’m on the clock, so it isn’t like I’m not getting paid,” Sam stammered about. She felt uncomfortable now.

“Yes, I understand that but had you been at work, you would not have been using any of your own gasoline, correct?” Estelle pressed.

“Well, umm … yeah but I really don’t think my boss would be happy if he found out I took money from you,” Sam was being very honest. She thought that something like this could even get her fired.

“Then I’ll call him and ask,” Estelle was not a woman who took no for an answer. She already had her cell phone in her hand.

“No! Really, please, don’t do that. My boss is a grumpy sorta guy and he’d really not like to be bothered. He’d probably fire me if I took a tip from you and I just want to go back to work and not have any issues,” Sam was amazed that she managed to blurt it all out the way that she did.

Estelle stopped for a moment and it was clear that she was thinking. Sam could almost see the wheels turning. She kept looking at Sam and it was making Sam a little uncomfortable now. She really didn’t know what to make of it.

“I’ll tell you what,” Estelle began, “I will not force the money on you or call your boss if you agree to come back here after work and have dinner with me.”

Sam just looked at the woman. She didn’t know what to even say. Did she just get asked to dinner with a rich lady? Is she hitting on me? Before she could say a word, Estelle took her silence as a yes.

In an instant she was being walked to the front door. Estelle had her hand on Sam’s shoulder and was talking to her and giving directions to her, “Now, be here at 7pm sharp. Here is my card, this has my phone number and the address. Do come and we’ll have a meal fit for a king! We shall talk about muscle cars. Do you like steak?”

All Sam could do was nod her head and say, “Yeah. Okay.” The next thing she knew, she was in her car and driving back towards work. She had absolutely no clue what she had just gotten herself into. Matter of fact, she hadn’t gotten herself into it, her boss had. She shook her head as she drove. What the fuck am I gonna wear?

Categories: Adoption, erotica, Free Books, gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

The Smell of Your Perfume


I can still smell your perfume lingering in the air and on my jacket. I can still feel your lips on mine and as I sit here I realize that my fingers are no longer cold and I am actually warm all over. To me, you’re beautiful, lovely and everything I could ever want in a friend and a love. I honestly feel comfortable with you so completely. I can slide my arms around you in line at the counter and you turn and kiss my cheek….so naturally, so affectionately and make me feel so wanted. It just feels “right” and I wonder if you feel it too? I think that you do. The way you look at me makes me light-up inside. I always wanted someone to look at me the way you do and now here you are … and it’s so much more.

Today we talked about our differences and the things we have in common. We’ve talked about the things that we know we’ll need to work on and we’ve talked so much about dreams and goals, hopes and fears. I told you that I felt like I can tell you anything. You told me that I could. You make me feel safe. My heart feels safe with you. I’m smelling my coat again right now….God, you smell so good. You hair, your smile, you voice….everything about you…the way you look away from me when I say something that embarrasses you….I’m completely intoxicated with you.

Lust? Yes, I definitely have a lust for you. The things I think about doing to you and with you would make a grown man blush … but I also think about courting you, as you deserve. I wish I wasn’t broke right now, but it won’t last long. I worked my ass off to earn the money to get back here and now I’ll have to work my ass off some more in order to get ahead again. Won’t take me long. You’re going to be treated like you deserve and that’s always been my intention. I want you for the long haul. I want you forever. I told you that I was playing for keeps this time and I mean it.

You’re a feisty lil’ filly and I’ve always known that. I love it. I get frustrated sometimes, but I’m a MUCH better person at being able to talk about it and explain it now. So instead of getting mad, I can talk to you and tell you how I feel. I think we’ll get better and better at talking about our feelings. I know that we’ll get out of this whatever we put in. I will give you my all. I will give you 100% and everything I have to give. Just know and believe me that when I tell you that I love you, I truly do … with every ounce of love that I have to give.

I accept your little quirks, your OCD, your high energy that keeps you preoccupied and easily distracted. Let me be what grounds you. Let me be your shoulder and your rock and I will always be here for you. Always be honest with me, tell me everything, let me into your world and know that I’m not going to judge you ever. I love you completely and unconditionally. Yes, I’ll get my feelings hurt sometimes. Yes, I’ll get annoyed and irritated sometimes. This is normal and I’m human, but I will never not love you through all those times and those moments.  At the end of the day, I’m always going to love you and I am ALWAYS going to want to be with you.

I’m smelling your perfume again. Just like I told you, my fingers are warm now. I’m not cold at all…

Categories: gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love | Tags: , , | 4 Comments

I Won’t Let Go

I push the button to connect and wait for you. You miss the call – typically –  and I am sitting here laughing as I know I will get an IM saying something like “oops….try again! LOL”

Chuckling at you, I try again. I hear you answer but it takes a moment to load. Suddenly there you are, looking back at me and I feel myself getting warm all over. You think you are “average” and don’t see yourself the way I do at all. I think you are stunning and you take my breath away.

You don’t know how the things you say about your past hurt me inside. The abuse… I was there for part of it …but when you talk about it or tell me things that I didn’t know about …. it makes me cry. I fight tears in front of you, because I know you’re so proud. I know that you have the same convictions in life that I do. You tell me that these were lessons and that they made you strong. Woman, you are so strong. I see a beauty in you that you will probably never be able to understand, but I want to spend the next 50+ years doing my best to make you see it.

There’s something in your eyes, when you look at me, that makes me tingle all over. No one’s ever looked at me like that. It makes me feel so humble and so happy. You make me see how unbelievably lucky we have both been to find ourselves back to where we are. How many gazillion little things all had to happen in this crazy world in order for us to ever meet in the first place? Then for me to go so far away from you, only to find out that you had never let me go? Who could know I’d be going to somewhat crazy lengths to try to get back to you now? I feel like it’s you….YOU are my destination.





I’ve never believed in having a soul mate. I’ve never believed in any of that. I always just felt like we found someone that we could care about and we called it love. So many things have happened in the last year of my life and I’ve come to learn so much. I finally understood how one single event could set-off a chain of other events. I came to realize that making the wrong choice was okay with God. He let me make a LOT of wrong choices in my life, knowing that I’d eventually figure it all out. He sent people into my world to help teach me those lessons and some of the lessons were very hard. I’ve cried my fair share of tears. I know you have too. Now we have angels working on our behalf to help me get back to you. SO many people that I owe thanks to. I give thanks every night when I crawl into my little sleeping bunk …. then I dream about you.

All of a sudden, here you are again. It was like we collided in a turmoil once before. Both of us in so much of a vacuum in our own lives that we both trapped in our worlds. There was simply no way we could just “happen” back then. It wasn’t going to happen then, but it seems like we both got sent on our own adventure’s and pains, heartbreaks and lessons to learn. Now, here you are in front of me, on my screen … smiling at me and stealing my heart with every smile and each sigh. Do you realize that I’ve told you things and admitted fears to you that I don’t tell anyone else? Do you realize that I’m not AFRAID to tell you those things and that I know beyond a doubt that I am perfectly safe to tell you those things.

I used to say that you were too young for me. I used to think in terms of being human and having an expiration date. You used to tell me that it was just a number and you didn’t care about it – but I did. When we started talking again, I remember telling you about the fears that I had, laying in that hospital bed this summer. I felt your reaction to my words and what you said to me too. I realized for the first time, that day and in that conversation, that you may have a different birth year than I but you are an old soul. You are wise beyond your years about matters of the heart. You understand what is important in this life. I think you are amazing and inspiring.

We keep saying to each other, “you get me.” We both seem equally amazed because for too many years we’ve been told by other people that they didn’t get us. There’s nothing you can’t tell me or I can tell you. Today we talked about our fears. That is a huge thing for me. It’s big for you too…yet we seem to do it with each other like it’s no big deal. I’m reminded that you are my miracle in life. You simply being there, typing to me, talking to me…. you are a miracle.

I told you that I was playing for keeps this time. I will stand by you. I will hold you and I will never let you go.

Categories: death, gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love, self-help | Tags: , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The Miles Just Keep Rollin’


I-295 Bridge just south of city of St Augustine. Just another mile marker on the journey.

I-295 Bridge just south of city of St Augustine. Just another mile marker on the journey.



Wow, the song says so much that I feel. The separation is so hard. Just laying bed in wanting something as simple as looking into your eyes, sometimes feels like I’m asking the universe for miracles that are too difficult to even imagine. You email first thing in the morning with something so cute that makes me smile before my feet have even hit the floor just made my day.

With everything I’ve been through in the last two years and knowing what you’ve been through too, makes me think that we were supposed to find ourselves first, so that we could find our ways back to each other…I think that we are better equipped to handle at what life throws at us. This time I think that we can handle it all – together.

I’m working so hard to get back to you. Pavement runs hot under these heavy wheels, and people stop to say hello everywhere I go. I feel like everyone on the planet is cheering for me to get back and hold you in my arms. Even the straight people. I think that they see the look on my face and there’s no denying to anyone, straight or gay, that the love that I can’t hide is right there, naked for all to see. I’ve never hid what I feel very well. My face tells it all. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

In reality, I don’t feel like I deserve the help and the kind words that people send my way. Complete strangers wish me well when they’ve got problems of their own. I feel so much humility. I love and appreciate every good thought out there and the people who say they live vicariously through me. They say that the love they see me expressing is touching them. Maybe we all hope for our ‘great love story?’  Will you be mine?

The world is such a small place, yet I’m so far away from your eyes and your arms. I dream about you, imagining that you are holding me tight. My mind transports me back to a time when I remember what your hair feels like, what you laying on top of me all night was like…and how I should have told what I felt back then. One of the few times in my life that I held something in … and now here I am, fighting my way back to you, one painful mile after mile.

With nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, I think about ways to make you smile and all the things I want to do for you and with you. I think about the things that I should have said to you so many months ago. I resolve myself to never make those mistakes again. You’ll always know how I feel and what I want from now on. I’ve grown very much since the last time that I held you in my arms and this time I am never letting you go.

You tell me that you like surprises, as long as they are good ones. The last time I saw your face in person was August 2011, a lot more than a hundred days….and I know that I won’t look at this the same. I told you that I am playing for keeps this time. I will be home in 23 days or less. I will never leave you behind again.

Categories: gay lesbian, lesbian, life lessons, love | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

Create a free website or blog at

%d bloggers like this: