Finally. Finally I’m
not longer a beast, and Lola’s calling me sweetie again.
But I’m not taking
the ring out of my pocket. The thing is, being kicked out had been one thing, her sharing a
private photo she’d taken of me in one of our lighter moods for all to see and gawk at, well, I feel…I
guess you’d say, a little bit violated.
And it wasn’t just
the girls at the beauty contest who saw me posed and ready for action, if you know what I mean by ‘action’, it’s
that Angie also saw it. And by tomorrow, all the women at NIMR are going to be laughing about it. Giggling about my taped
paper fig leaf and asking Lola and
Angie if the snipped variations that were pinned to it at the impromptu party behind the scenes at the beauty contest were
the same size, shape, etc. Then no doubt they’ll ask to be shown the original photo, or maybe even the cutout itself so they can play pin the pee-pee on the Captain themselves. Now that idea is worse than them actually
viewing me starkers, and with a full erection, no less.
Lola likes photographing
me in various states of undress, and tweeks the pictures into ‘artistic’ poses for her blog. But this one wasn’t
camouflaged at all by paint or charcoal strokes, etc. I can only hope she decides
against sharing it online!
No, of course I’m sure she won’t. NIMR has a strict policy against sexual harassment, and even though her
blog is personal, the fact that she’d be exposing me to the world, well, let’s just say that Harry would be inclined
to fire her in a heartbeat. And he could, legally.
But I sure don’t
want her to lose her job over some feminine wiles. I’m a big boy, I can stand the humiliation and embarrassment. So I’ll tell Harry it’s a girl thing and to go easy on her.
In the meantime, I’m
looking at a black velvet bow tie, and two rhinestone nipple clips that she wants me to put on while she’s changing
into a red velvet teddy and black stockings. I hate to say it, but those little lingerie items really turn me on. I’ll
wear the bow tie, but I draw the line at having my the rest of my anatomy decorated.
I don’t even have a tattoo.
She did suggest I get
one once…after we watched a movie about a sub commander who got so drunk he got a tattoo on his dick that said ‘Welcome
Aboard’* . No way. Absolutely not! Even if she wanted to replace their ‘Welcome Aboard’ with ‘Property
Lola Hale’.
I have just enough time
to sneak into the kitchen and take that damn cutout out for tomorrow’s morning garbage pick-up, but I’d better
sheer away parts of it and shred them…don’t want the neighbors to think I’m some kind of egotist.
It’s not there!
I just asked her where it was. “In a safe place,” she said but I can’t demand more info as she’s standing
by the bedroom door in a sultry ‘come hither’ look and I can only
hope I can finish this sentence and shut down before I
