Finding my best friend from grade 7 and debating whether to contact her

I don't write as much as I used to here. It's partly life. It's partly because I am not in an intimate relationship.

I have topics to write about. I haven't prioritized posting them.

I do have some news to share. It's good news. I'm just not sure if I should take the bold step and reach out, or let the past stay in the past.

In grade 7, I was best friends with a person. I'll call her Candy. She was awesome, except that she was teased whenever someone would tap her on the shoulder or give her a hug.

I don't think we ever hugged. I didn't want to trigger anything. I never asked why she was so sensitive. I figured it out in grade 8.

We were in extended French class. We had an exercise to reveal a secret by writing it on a piece of paper. It would then be placed in a jar. Each one of us would fish out an entry, read it, and figure out who it was.

Candy asked how to say abuse in French. It caught my attention. It also caught the attention of two of our classmates.

We reported it to our French teacher. She spent a lot of time talking to counsellors after she shared what had happened to her. Our friendship started to change, well into grades 9 and 10.

She became a feminist. She didn't like eating lunch with our usual friends in the cafeteria. She preferred to eat lunch in the washroom.

We used to walk up to school and home together. All that stopped.

She changed high schools. We drifted apart. We saw each other a couple of times in Toronto. Once was when we were in grade 12. The last time was when I was in my second year of undergraduate studies. We met in a store on Yonge Street. She called my name. I said hi. That was it.

I have thought about her often over the years. I'd try searching for her online. Nothing.

I gave it a try today. Somehow, my persistence worked. It also helped that she openly stated her birthday on her Web site, right down to the year. I looked at her birthmark on her forehead and immediately knew that it was her.

She is definitely more verbally articulate than she used to be. She is far more open about being abused and her past. I didn't realize that she automatically grew up in a cult and ran away from home shortly after she changed school.

She changed her last name after she ran away from home. It explains one reason why I had a tough time finding her.

I'd like to contact her and say hi. I don't know whether that's a good idea. The abuse that she endured happened while we were best friends. She couldn't tell me anything because her abusers threatened to kill her, which is understandable.

Part of me wants to because I care that she's alive and seems to be doing well. Part of me thinks that if I do reach out, I will be resurrecting the horrible abuse flashbacks that was happening. 

I would like to think that our friendship was maybe an escape from this abuse. I just don't know.

I will sit on it and think some more. I am happy that she's doing great. She seems healthy. She is an author and an artist. 

Waking up from a nap and having an orgasm

I haven't been all that active sexually since I've been single. A combination of being busy and dealing with the void of not having a partner have been factors.

Yesterday, I woke up from a nap horny. I haven't had an orgasm like that in ages. It was nice.

Thinking of a best friend from the past

I had a best friend in grades 7 through 9. In grade 8, in an activity that we did in French class, she revealed that she was sexually abused.

I stayed with her and our French teacher to talk it out. I had an orthodontist's appointment and my dad was waiting for me, wondering why I was running late.

Our friendship suffered as she became more of a feminist and preferred to have lunch in the washroom by herself, rather than eating in the lunch room with a bunch of us.

Walking together to school slowly dwindled. We drifted apart. She changed high schools in grade 11. We didn't keep in touch.

The last time I saw her was in a store on Yonge Street, which is the longest street in the world and starts in Toronto. It was at the end of my second year of undergraduate studies. We said hi. She was with a woman. I was with my good friend whom we are still friends to this day.

I think of her often. Today is her birthday. I hope that she is doing well, wherever she is.

Nut joke

My manager's wife roasted a variety of cashews, walnuts, almonds, and more. On Thursday, he brought a jar in to share with the team.

When we got to our desks after our team meeting, he put a bunch of mixed nuts on a napkin. My colleague and I were talking about something work-related. When we were done, I saw him pointing at the nuts on his napkin.

"Are you counting your nuts?" I asked him.

My colleague and I laughed. When I think about what I had said, it makes me smile. It's nice to have a good laugh at the expense of my manager.

Conversations with some sexual innuendos mixed in at lunch time

The conversations that my guy and I have are fun. It's the chemistry that we have, as my guy would say.

We were walking over to our usual restaurant for lunch last week. It was becoming a pretty warm day.

"It's so warm. I am overdressed," I remarked, wearing a short-sleeved sweater and a pair of slacks.
"You are always overdressed," my guy said, smirking at me.
"I can't walk around naked in public, you know," I replied.
"I wouldn't mind it at all," my guy stated, approving the idea.

We then sat down at the table and looked at the restaurant menu.

"What are we doing today?" my guy asked me.
"I'd like to do you," I said to him.
"I would love if you would do me," he said approvingly.

All of this excitement happened before we even ordered lunch!

A Labour Day of love and affection

My guy had to work the Labour Day holiday. He had sent me an e-mail, asking if I wanted to meet him after work.

I will back up a bit. On Thursday, we were both not at our best. My guy was starting to feel sick. I was upset at him for not keeping me in the loop with what was going on with him. He apologized, but I still didn't feel like my content self.

Well, he tried his hardest to make things better. I parked in the underground parking lot of our new office. We had moved there last week. I was wearing a light green blouse and a grey skirt. My guy opened the passenger-side door and loved my outfit.

We got into the treehouse. He handed me a small bag. He was a bearer of gifts. He got me a Magic Mount Window. I was thrilled.

"Thank you," I said, wanting to rip open the packaging.
"I'm glad you like it," he said, judging by the huge smile on my face.
"Well, you are technically my Magic Mount. You magically mount me often."

We both laughed. He literally had to tear the gift out of my hands. He also wouldn't let me open the other gifts that he had from his travels to India.

"You're mean. Why won't you let me look at them?"
"Because I want you to look at the other gifts that I have for you," he said to me.
"Sounds good," I said.
"I love you."

He wouldn't let me respond. He immediately wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. It felt good to hold him. It also felt nice that he was touching my bare thighs.

I try to make his working a holiday to be more bearable. It worked out nicely.

K is for The Kebob

Hey, my post for the letter f has made it on Chross' regular Spankings of the Week post! I am truly flattered. Thanks!

As this challenge progresses, I find it more difficult to come up with topics to write about. It's call a challenge for a reason!

From the title of my post, perhaps you're thinking that I intentionally had a clever double entendre or sexual innuendo of some sort in mind. Nope. Not at all. I am going to talk about kebobs.

What is The Kebob? It is a restaurant that my guy and I drove by just before we started dating. We were in his car, along with another colleague. We were trying to find a place to have lunch.

Our colleague didn't pay attention to it. My guy and I had the same thought when we first saw the restaurant sign:

"We should go to this restaurant to get only one kebob," I said.
"Yes, you only get a maximum of one kebob at The Kebob. Order more than one, and you're escorted out the door... the only door."

Perhaps that was a sign that we were meant to be together. We are nerdy when it comes to quantities. We also have strange senses of humour, but we get each other and how wacky our thoughts can get.

Jet lag, chats, and puns

I get down when my guy is away on business and doesn't have a chance to connect with me. Sure, e-mail exchanges help keep us connected. However, it's not the same when you long to hear the voice of something you love and miss.

My guy has been in Lebanon for a week. It's a seven-hour difference between us. My guy doesn't handle jet lag too well. So, it took him three days to get used to the time change before he was good to chat with me on Skype.

Although the wait was painful, it was good to chat with him a handful of times. Thursday, we did it twice. We first tried in the morning, but his Internet connection was horrible. I was doing most of the talking. It's funny, but he likes when he lets me babble. He does it often for a living and it gives him a bit of a break. He also likes to know what I have been up to.

He is in the office on Monday. I am, too, for the entire day. Our conversations can be playful and a lot of fun as a participant.

"I'll come up and say hi," he told me, referring to the fact that my cubicle is on the building's top floor now.
"You'll cum?" I said, teasing him. "I know you'll be up."
"Yes, Cutiebootie. I will cum all over the place."
"You'll stand up and say hi, too."
"Of course," he replied.
"I can hand you a sticky note," I started saying, catching myself in the sexual innuendo, which was not deliberate for a change. "I mean, Post-It Note, with my phone extension."
"Yes, you'll definitely be sticky and wet. I'll call you for a good time."

Ah, the fun of being the starter of such a pun-fest!

We had talked in the past about my giving him my phone extension. He thought that it would be convenient for him to call me once his seminar was over. That way, we'd meet downstairs in the lobby before heading out for lunch.

My guy is on a plane right now. It's the only time when I say that I can't wait for Monday to get here.

Skirts, shorts, and panties

I had a meeting with my manager late on Friday afternoon. My guy briefly popped into our manager's office to say hi. He was done with his meetings for the week. It was actually our boss who decided to invite my guy into our regularly scheduled one-on-one meeting.

It's interesting, but I think that our manager likes chatting with both of us. Perhaps it's because we like what we do and we are both funny. This week, a colleague called me "comedy hour." Naturally, my guy needs to be there to make the hour even more humourous.

After my meeting with our manager, I went back to my desk and chatted with my guy. I could tell that today wasn't going to be a treehouse day. I had a lousy morning, so I wasn't exactly in the mood. My guy hasn't been sleeping too well, so he was yawning quite a bit.

He asked me to "shoot" when it came to dishing out why my morning was so horrible. I replied that I didn't exactly have the equipment to do much shooting, but I would try. I said it in my usual deadpan way, which made my guy laugh. Yes, we like sexual innuendos when we talk. It spices up everything.

So, I told my guy about one manager who was giving me a hard time at work. Our manager told me not to worry about it. I'm not, really. I just found this manager's constant hounding to be tedious. I told my guy everything. When I am annoyed, I tend to be funny. My guy likes listening to me, hearing my voice, and laughing at how I describe people who bug me. He got a good laugh.

My guy was waiting for 18:00 to leave work, as was I. Traffic is a bit better on the major highways on a Friday if you leave later.

"When traffic is bad on the highway, I usually get off... at [this highway exit] to shop at Costco," he stated.
"I like that pause," I said. It finally clicked in his head and he laughed hard.

My guy didn't mean to make that pause, but it was funny to me. He thought it was hilarious, too.

He revealed to me that he was so tired today that he had fallen asleep a couple of times during his meeting, but for maybe a minute or two. I said that, if I were in that room, I'd be snapping pictures of him sleeping so sweetly. He changed the topic slightly and suggested that I take pictures of my wearing a short skirt on, showing my thighs. He likes the photos that I had taken a few weeks ago with my lacy black panties on.

My guy then said something revealing. He is obviously turned on when I wear a short skirt. He loves the look of my legs and exploring what is under the skirt. I asked him about whether he feels the same way about shorts. He doesn't. I asked if he was sure. He does like it when a woman's cheeks are showing. In other words, the shorts have to be literally short and skimpy.

I would never be caught with tight shorts like that in public. However, I do like the thought of wearing them before I get spanked. Naturally, the shorts and panties would eventually be pulled down as I continued to be spanked, but it arouses me that my exposed buttocks from under those short shorts are unprotected from a spanking.

Short shorts remind me of my lacy panties. The latter are hiphuggers from Victoria's Secret. They don't completely cover my buttocks. They are comfortable and make me feel sexy in them. Perhaps it's just fine to be spanked over my lacy panties.

Maybe I don't need to invest in a pair of short shorts. However, it never hurts to browse. I like to throw an element of excitement into our fun, as does he.

Planting a seed for Friday fun by teasing and groping

Wednesday was a fun day of banter with my guy. We both had planted a seed for what was in store for us on Friday.

I decided to go to work a bit earlier than usual. I was there two hours earlier. My guy noticed.

Our conversation throughout the day was full of sexual innuendos. It actually caught a part-time colleague who got laid off last year, but decided to return a couple of months ago, off-guard. There is one huge story about her that I could write about at length, but I won't. In a nutshell, both my guy and I thought that she felt a bit uncomfortable with our entire discussion, mainly because it's the type of banter that she can't really keep up with. She is the type that needs to be a part of every conversation, but she can't readily contribute to ours.

My guy played the innocent card, meaning that he was just minding his own business, saying whatever he needed to say, and that I was twisting his words. It was his standard acting job. We both knew it. Apparently, I have corrupted everyone around us.

The best part was my guy saying that he had to go the washroom badly. He still stuck around talking to another colleague.

"You better go or you're going to have an accident!" I exclaimed.

My guy decided to march over to my cubicle area instead.

"If you don't behave, ..." he said to me, which made me smile and turned me completely on.

When we finally had a quiet moment to ourselves, we chatted. Our chats are wonderful. He confided in me that when he was a young boy, his mother's female friends, who were in their thirties, were beautiful. Since then, he does have a thing for older women. He has never told anyone about this interest of his, which says a lot about the trust in our relationship. I don't fit this mould, though.

"You know so much about me," he admitted. "It's not good."
"How come you feel that way?" I asked him.
"I feel so vulnerable."
"You know that I won't be blurting this tidbit to the world," I reassured him.
"I know."

 We both left the office together. We waited for an elevator to come. An empty one came and we got in it.

It didn't take long for our lips to lock. I was hugging him. He took both his hands and grabbed my buttocks. Once again, I was aroused.

"Wow," I said, as the doors opened and we both exited the elevator. "I wasn't expecting [the double-handed groping]."
"It's just a preview of Friday," he said, as we both held hands and walked out the building.

Banter, compliments, birthday planning, and the treehouse

My guy and I had a new set of conversations today, all filled with sexual innuendos. Although he has never told me that he appreciates that I can keep up with him on this front and can dish out some of my own, I could tell that he was enjoying the banter today.

A colleague has asked me what a three-legged race was. It was a part of the activities list for the upcoming company picnic. I explained that you have a partner, you each put a leg next to each other and you tie them up. So, you have three legs between the two people. The objective is to walk as quickly as possible together from the starting line to the finish line.

My guy couldn't help but chime in.

"Being tied up like that isn't bad," he said sheepishly.
"That's too much information," I said, playing the I'm-shocked-but-not-really card.
"What?" he looked up at me as I was standing in my cubicle, looking at him.
"You just want to either be close to your loved one or you're weighing her down like an anchor," I joked.

I recall making a joke about his personal three-legged race, which got my guy to laugh hysterically. Later in the day, he made the same reference, which meant that he had liked my original joke.

He does say sweet things to me. He often refers to me as his angel. Today, he told me that I looked good.

"I am here all week," he confided. He tends to work from home twice a week, similar to my setup. "Will I see you on Wednesday?"
"Yes," I said. "Friday, too."
"I hope that I can squeeze in some time to meet in the treehouse," he stated, which indicated to me that he had missed me over the weekend.
"I would like that," I replied.

Our boss came over to tell my guy that he had got our boss in trouble. My guy hadn't filled out his timesheet for months until now. Our boss got in trouble by the timesheet manager for not following up. Anyway, when our boss had walked away, my guy and I continued to talk.

"See, I seem to get other people in trouble," my guy admitted.
"I know. What are we going to do with you?" I asked him rhetorically.
"The key question is what are you going to do to me?" he said with a huge grin on his face.
"Just wait and see," I hinted.

Speaking of hinting, my guy teased me some more.

"You're off on vacation next week on your birthday," he said, in a thoughtful state of mind.
"Am I going to get spanked?" I asked him, like an excited little girl.
"Of course," he replied calmly.
"Maybe the festivities can start a little early," I hinted.
"They can," he pondered.

He still hasn't told me what my birthday spanking will consist of. However, it makes me happy anticipating getting a sound spanking from him.

We left work together. We talked about our rollerbag computer bags. I just replaced my twelve-year-old one with a purple one. He liked mine. He needs a new one.

We got into an empty elevator. I pressed the ground floor button. The doors closed. He came up to me and held my arm. Our lips locked. We kissed as the elevator continued its descent. I caressed his head as we passionately kissed. It was wonderful. We finally unpuckered. He took a small staggered step back. It was quite the kiss.

We ended on this parting note.

"I can't wait to get you back into the treehouse," he said.
"I can't wait to revisit it."

I am due for a spanking. I have a feeling that he is planning a pre-birthday spanking. I welcome it.