sexcapades galore!

Excerpt from *Mabel Maney’s “The Case of the Not-So-Nice Nurse”;
Just as she was about to speak, there was a knock on the door. It was Sister Kimi, the dessert nun. “I thought you’d all like some sweets,” said the adorable nun, pushing a tray filled with mouth-watering cookies and cakes. Cherry noticed she was wearing a habit that came to well above her shapely knees.

Tie me up by my rosary beads and burn those nasty habits! Send Mz. Conduct anything you desire at: guttergrl69.hotmail.com. Visit my website, that Greggors the Great has built for little ol’ me at: www.mzconduct.com. Confess, repent, or keep on sinning, baby!

When I was at the public library looking for a quick summer read and stumbled upon the *aforementioned book title, I snapped it up with a devious smile. The back cover told of; two of America’s greatest girl detectives as lovers, organza cocktail dresses with shoes to match, lesbians, and a conglomerate of nuns and evil priests. I felt overly obliged to check it out. [You see, I was a young, bossy girl, wannabe detective myself – with a group of neighbor kids who I easily molded into forming a club called, ‘The Spy Guys’. Years later, I was sent away for an overrun imagination, and was raised by wicked nuns in an all-girl institution.] So, justifying my curiosity with the book in hand, I curled up on the lawn chair with a fruity cocktail, and read the whole thing. I giggled and snickered until I almost peed my non-existent under-panties! I’m going back to the library and get everything else Mabel Maney has written! This book is for all of you, fellow-recovering Catholics, who have a twisted and cheesy appreciation for a truly gay adventure! Mabel Maney is truly the Queen of queer hysterics!

Aside from the summer reads, Frisbee in the park (my ancient dog almost had a heart attack), and an occasional river trip, the Yum Yum Boy and I were fortunate to get a house sitting gig across town at a swanky hillside home. The global warming ordeal is working overtime here in the Northwest, so it’s been sweltering. Needless to say, we were more than anxious to stay at this shaded home complete with wet bar and fabulous swimming pool. The first night there we realized that the pool seemed totally secluded, surrounded by thirty-foot pine trees. After evening cocktails and crab salad, inhaling the pine and herb of the night, we stripped each other naked and dove into the cobalt light of the pool. We always have a blast having sex under water, but this time it was better. The Yum Yum Boy grabbed my hips and held me up to his turgid tubesteak. For almost an hour he reminded us both that life is what you make it! The next night though, a thirty-something couple from next door stopped by to introduce themselves. With a subtle hint of sarcasm in her voice, the voluptuous woman said, “We heard you two by the pool last night and knowing the mundane people that live here, we realized the ‘house sitters’ had surely come.” I started laughing, blurting out, “Oh, about a dozen times!” We instantly made new friends that night and shared the poolside. It was a great escape indeed.

When the Royal Diva escaped from the Northwest, she landed a weekly gig at Club Ripples in Long Beach, and is giving the drag queens a run for their money. She’s getting monstrous tips from one certain gentleman each week, deservingly so, and gathered much enthusiastic appreciation by all of her fans. Since she’s moved south, we have our cocktail hour by phone now, which is uniquely fabulous, as are we dahhlings! You can listen to her seductively sultry voice now, each weekday morning, from anywhere online, as she introduces an array of jazz tunes at the Long Beach radio station, KKJZ (http://kkjz.org/.) When she plays Nina Simone, baby, I always know it’s for me!

Another dear friend, who’d moved down south, graced me with a surprise call and visit this month. It was no other than the Distinguished Deviant! We met downtown at the club where the Yum Yum Boy works, then meandered over to our favorite strip club, the Peeled Onion. The night was hot and the girls were hotter! One dancer did her infamous fire dance; swinging long chains that held pots of fire, and like nobody’s business! The smell of the kerosene and the way she moved made me light headed in ways that could only mean trouble. We invited her to our table after the show and I interviewed her for an article I was working on. At the end of the half hour, the YYB and the Distinguished Deviant each kissed her cheek, but I kissed a nipple… with her permission of course. All the way home I had to listen to the boys complain that life isn’t fair. Hmmm… seems fair to me!

Donkey Boy, with his pooch in tow, came by for a ‘little visit’ recently, which turned into a night of debauchery, drinks, and draw poker. He wanted to make my computer sail like a cruise ship, and that he did, but my neighbor girlie came strutting over in her next-to-nothin’ attire and quickly swept his attentions away from booting up to booty. I made a fresh batch of Strawberry lemonade with fresh mint from the garden. Okay, so I tossed in a bottle of vodka too. Donkey Boy and my neighbor girlie were hitting it off just dandy, when suddenly a stroke of exhibitionism hit the Yum Yum Boy. We wrestled around in the grass and soon showed them both what pornstars we truly are! After the batch of lemonade was gone, along with most of my memory cells, we all ended up in a heap on the lawn. With only the flicker of the citronella candlesticks -- sporadically placed in the grass – there snoozed four snoring bodies, mingled and sated, in the hot August night. A marriage of bliss.

Speaking of marriage, boy, did the wedding bells ring this summer! Ding, dong, the single life is dead! I guess though it’s all in the perspective… and the person you marry. Sometimes you marry the wrong people, however, I know in my heart that all my dear friends have chosen wisely, and will hopefully have an amazing and long life together. The Blue Sky Boy married his Southern Bella Donna, Mister Bo Dangles hitched his Ruby Girl, and Brain Boy and Cocoa Bean finally caved. Warm and fuzzy congratulations to all of my darling, daring friends! Now, with all that happy horseshit out of the way, I think I’ll go marry my lips to that Yum Yum foreskin that lay await in my bed.

Dear Mz. Conduct,

I’m a long-time fan and think you rock! I have a question that I hope isn’t silly; I’m a woman with knowledge where/how/of my G-spot. What I was wondering is; does the G actually stands for something?

Gigi

Dear G,

Gee, Gigi, what I was wondering was, just how many times one can use the letter G in a G-spot question?

Okay, I’m just being flippant. The G in G-spot surely does stand for something. It stands for Grafenberg, a man (gee!), who basically discovered the spot. Here’s the scoop; Masters and Johnson stomped on Freud's idea when they declared all female orgasms to be clitoral. Yeah, they were a bit off the mark there. Somewhere around 1950, a German physician named Ernest Grafenberg--who decades before had developed the "Grafenberg ring," a primitive type of IUD--took notice of the urethra and what it had to do with an orgasm. No one paid any attention, the fools! Really, only in the last few years have a bunch of headstrong researchers totally invaded the medical and popular literature with their new discovery of this old and marvelous one. Whether the actual spot exists is still debated, and that just gets me… right in the G-Spot!

Dear Mz. Conduct,

How do I get my boyfriend to give me oral sex? I’ve been dating him only three months, but he says he’s just ‘not into it’ and I’m getting very frustrated now. I, by the way, make sure all his needs are filled! I feel like I’m becoming bitchier towards him now, and in someway resent him deep inside. What should I do?

Waiting in Washington

Dear WiW,

You should probably turn into Brazen Bitch, smother him with your cape and fly away! Let me tell you, he’s not going to wake up one morning with some epiphany that’ll compel him to launch his face between your legs and love it. Not going to happen. Ever! I imagine that some women can live without having their vaginas worshipped, but I am not one of them, and I doubt that you are either. Move on, he’s not worth it. And however long it takes for you to change into your Brazen Bitch costume… in the meantime, don’t you dare smooch that snake of his! I’m sick of all these women who whine about not getting what they want in bed yet they give the other person everything. Ugh! Now, I need an Ibuprofen and a cocktail!

*A special thank you to Mister R. who so kindly paid for my writings to remain on the Authors Den site www.authorsden.com for another year! Smooches to you, baby!

© All rights reserved Kim Alvarez 2004