Harsh My Mellow

I rented the sexy little Audi TT convertible She said she'd love to try. Wanted to see how it felt to have her stiletto hit the pavement from the hot little car, she said. I stuffed a substantial duffle bag full of goodies for her. I pack muled her internet shopping spree. I hauled her skirts, her blouses, and her 15 pounds of protein shakes. I made two, count them two, little outfits to serve her in. Collars and cuffs cut from shirts that I had especially tailored to fit bow ties. Matching cuff links or woven cuff buttons, of course. I even had the tailor sew in velcro so the cuffs would stay. I bought a cock cane. I bought two lycra masks with the eyes and the mouth cut out. I bought an adjustable blindfold with faux fur on the eyes.

I bought eye care products for her friend. I bought She and her friend StriVectin Anti Oxident face cream. I brought my very own soft green nylon rope from RopeShare to give to She to tie up Mr. She. My gift to them as they'd been going through a rough patch and, at least in part from my urging, She had made a significant effort to reconnect. He loves to be tied up. I figure we're a three legged stool. One leg decays and it's bye, bye bench.

I even made her a mix tape with all the songs from all the posts I've ever written here on "Client Nine" about her.

And you know what? You can see it coming, can't you? She's not coming. It can't be helped. It's not her fault. Immigration and work permit hassles on her island paradise. Poor advice from lawyers she believed when they told her she could leave and come back no problem. I can't be mad at her. But it was completely last minute.

I'm just such a bummed out pervert. Day 31 and no She. No chance of She until November 5th. She asked me to go until then. Which would be 66 days. My personal best is 82. I can't even get into the thought. I just really wanted to spend the weekend with her.

Well...okay. At least tonight I won't jerk it out.