Angelique returns:: Company inside::J and more J

I’ve been naughty in not posting more, but with the business and yes, you may have already guessed, I’m pregnant! (Ack!!!) So with all that comes all the other stuff. I’m engaged now too, just like J to do it all backwards.

The business is great!! We got a mention in a celeb mag recently (shhh!! won’t be telling you which one) and that has sent business sky high. So much so I’ve taken on a lot of help to allow me to manage it. The pregnancy has me sick a lot (don’t worry it isn’t bad) so without the help the place would self-destruct.

I’m due in April and it sounds like bedrest is looming on the horizon so I’m getting it all in while looking like a greatly pregnant whale of a girl. Knock on wood girls, I’ve avoided the swollen feet (which means I can still wear my Louboutin shoes I got for Xmas) and stretch marks (which means I might be back in a bikini for summer). It may not seem like much, but those are huge deals for a pregnant woman who feels like the side of a bus at the moment.

J is great. He’s taken to the role of daddy early on. Trouble is he doesn’t want to go shopping for baby stuff, he’d rather just hire someone to do all that work. I mean sure, but there’s something fun to be said for picking it all out yourself, right? I think I’ve got enough taste to avoid the plastic-y furniture I grew up with. So we compromised and hired a girl (S recommended) who is now one of my best girlfriends to do the work – I can shop, get girl time, and still get to pick what I want.

I’m so spoiled.

I can’t wait to get back to eating normal food again. These kids only seem to like meat. It must be boys, because girls don’t eat like this. We haven’t asked, but J keeps talking sports to my stomach so if it isn’t boys, we can be prepared to have a couple of tomboys on hand.

well, love and kisses to you,
Angelique

The sadist::change::fear

I’d love to report that the world according to Angelique is functioning as it should. I’d love to say that my world is going around like it should, but things are just sort of fucked up. Business good. Family good. Sadist bad. Everything good that is moving along fine grinds to a screeching halt when things aren’t right with him.

J. I snarked at him at the wrong time and he came out of the corner swinging. No, hold onto your domestic violence cards, he tends to be more lethal with his tongue. He cut me to the bone, and don’t get me wrong, I’m angry about this, but its consumed by this agonizing, choking sort of pain. I want so badly to be what he wants me to be, but something just resists.

I know I’ll be happy with him. I know that he’s been nothing short of amazing during all the time I’ve known him. I know that version of our future lays out there, but to admit I want it. To admit that there is something different than this is terrifying. Everything is so perfect now, how can he stand to change it?

I’m afraid of change. In this moment I’m not the easy-going girl. I’m not the person I usually am. I feel like a frightened cat. A stubborn, annoyed, angry, in-love, pining girl…

I hate the slow come down of a serious argument. I hate the way it doesn’t feel like it was for days afterwards. It isn’t the next few days I’m not liking,it’s the fear, that if I don’t accept that some change is upon us, it will happen again.

And no matter how strong I am, I hate, hate having disappointed him.

-Angelique

Bouncing baby business:My new family:Why I now love roses

So it’s ready, (early) this place that I’ve spent my lifesavings. Where I’ve also spent my energy, my frustration and everything else I’ve had until I’m nearly bankrupted from giving out so much. Its beautiful and such a shame I can’t post it here, and just scream out loudly that its all mine!!! But this being where it is, and this blog revealing more than I would tell any stranger, is stopping me. And so are the men in my life.

Men. J, of course, but the rest of them that have become my extended family. I’m sorry for not writing, and it isn’t that there isn’t a lot to say, there is so much to say, really, but its filtered by so much more. I don’t know how to be coy, vague, at least, not in the way this medium requires.

So J and I are doing great. I never would have thought even when I met him that there would be so much under the surface for him. He is one of those great men. One of those men you’d want to rule the world, but maybe thats just my stupid girlish fantasies (better until made real). If he ruled the world, he wouldn’t be bringing me roses, which I stupidly said at some point I didn’t like.

J is just one of those people who don’t ask for things, but you end up offering it up to them anyway. He doesn’t ask for anything really, but when you’ve hit the right note, or done something that surprises him pleasantly, the smile, the words that follow are my own personal high.

I love that stupid man, even when I’m rubbing his muscles from another encounter with S. Which will give S one of those ear to ear laughs, and give me a sore ass.

Angelique

Puzzles: Greed: Love

Everything is so weird right now with my life. It’s like I’ve put my life into a bowl, blended it and tossed it up into the air and in process of catching the pieces to put them where they belong on the board. I’m failing at something and I hate that I am. J is trying to be supportive, but he is, I think, terminally jealous of my work and the fact that I am not here for him.

I’d be jealous of his, did he not move Earth and Sun for me constantly.

Oh and how part of me wants to give it up! I know that this period isn’t the way it always will be. I am not S, I don’t breathe figures and write papers in my head with every waking second. I am Angelique, a girl, a woman, who loves not being obligated, not being planned, and that maybe is why I am so at odds with the path of my life right now.

I am a hippie at heart, but a pressed and girlie, bra-wearing one. I want freedom, but that isn’t to say I want to be away from J, NOT AT ALL, but that work, and everything else is just squeezing me too tightly right now.

I want to spend a day just chatting and fucking. I don’t want to shop. I don’t want to work or clean. I just want to spend the day with him between my thighs, but moreso, with him between my ears, bathing my senses with calm and his own brand of humor. His voice is a balm for my frantic world.

J organized my life. And that organization has helped me be a success, has helped me not want anymore for those things. It has made things happen that I’ve always wanted to happen.

And, as with all things, now that I have them, I find myself reaching for something else.

J loves me. I know it. I’ve heard it from his mouth. I’ve heard him say it to someone else. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me…

The Sadist as: my lover: home

These days I’m struggling to find my place with J. He is the sort of man who hurts you without knowing he has done so, and at the same time, he also hurts you on purpose. Most of the time it is easy to tell the difference, other times it takes you a few moments in your hurt, tear-fogged brain to sort out the details for posterity.

I am a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, and my lover, the sadist, knows just how to cut me to make me bleed out the most. I’ve told him. I don’t know how to keep secrets like that from my lover. I don’t know how to protect myself as he, obviously, does. I can hurt him, but my brain always closes my mouth before I do, as if even in this, he rules over me. There are so many things I can say, and sometimes desperately want to say, but cannot, because I don’t want to see his face change.

I don’t want to hurt him. I am not the sadist here. I would only wound him and myself by trying to out-maneuver him. He needs me to remind him to have some compassion. He needs me to comfort him.

He is so fierce. He fights for everything, has fought battles that I would have lost, and so home, needs to be calm. Neutral. His friend explained it to me. So alike they are, so open with their friends, but so closed with their lovers. J too, his friend, more. I could spend the day, ferreting out S’s brain for details, but it isn’t the same as hearing it from J’s mouth.

I wish J wrote like S does. I would read it until the strain made my eyes water. I wouldn’t sleep. J’s book is the one I’d keep with me all the time.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this. I don’t think I’ve ever been this in love, this AWARE of my love, until him. I want to crawl inside him. I want to feel his skin against mine. I want his husky laughter in my ear.

Most of all, I want to be his home; his comfort, the place where he can whisper his secrets and feel weightless.

A wierd Problem: Resulting Fight: Resolution

I went out Saturday night without J. The group involved was one that he just doesn’t want to be around – my co-workers, friends and boyfriends, but I didn’t have a choice. It was my going away party, combined with one of their birthdays, etc.

At some point a girl and I started talking. This woman, younger than me, was not the kind of person I hang out with, but seeing as I needed to fill the time, and look busy to fend off any relationship-minded cowboys looking to two-step me around the dance floor, we chatted. She was obviously a sad drunk kind of girl. At one point of the evening, I even pretended to be her lover to keep someone from bothering her again.

Long story short, when I left, she gave me her cell number and told me to text her for her myspace id. It was a pleasant sort of thing, and I’m on myspace about, I dunno, MAYBE twice a month, so I agreed.

A few days later, I did. Now, I’m going to post the message exchange with my notes off too the side. I am boggled on how to handle this.

Me: Hey there. It’s (insert my gender neutral name here) from Saturday…send me your myspace id so I can add you.

Girl: the URL is (not giving that out.)
Girl: I didn’t actually expect to hear from you. lol.

Me: Oh, Well, I wasn’t drunk. I’ll add you when I get home. Thanks.

Girl: K

(Time passes – Hours later)

Girl: So, what do you remember about me? (I’m thinking she’s fishing for compliments, but I find this odd.)

Me: The cute picture you showed me of your baby boy, the cute glasses, short red hair… Oh, and ‘motor boat me, bitch’ (that last one was a reference to the lesbian act we were putting on – i feel obligated to add, that no touching took place)

Girl: LOL nice. And dark burgandy [sic] red. I know youre not interested in me besides as friends so dont get scared. LOL

Me: (confused, thinking two things: 1. Maybe she’s warning me off and someone told me that I liked girls part time. 2. Or that she likes girls and is trying to reassure me.) LOL. Not scared babe. I bite. I used to be a red head.

Girl: I bite back, and I like it.

I don’t answer, thinking that’s a nice end for this unusual string of messages. J in the meantime has noticed that I’m chatting up a girl (of course he thinks I’M the aggressor.) He wants to read my text messages and I tell him no. He then asks me if she’s cute. I say, she’s alright, but not my type. Subject drops.

Later, I get this…

Girl: Now youre scared. lol

Me: (always clever) I was busy making a list of places you could bite.

Girl: Well you’ll have to show me. I cant read.

Me: I don’t know if you can handle it. (I’m detecting flirtation here, but trying to keep it neutral and failing)

Girl: What makes you think you could handle me?

Me: I’ve yet to see a mountain I couldn’t climb. Its pure confidence.

Girl: LOL What do you even remember about me?

Me: That you seemed nice, so I’m trying to match that against the texting vixen I seemed to have encountered.

Girl: LOL hmmm. Havent you ever heard the expression ‘lady in the street, but a freak in the sheets’? Haha and Im a good girl, but I could reduce you if i wanted too and you wanted me too. just not the day i meet you. lol

Me: (oh lord, yes, who hasn’t heard that song.) The first day would be a little fast. But I wasn’t offering.

Girl: do you remember what I look like?
Girl: Im asking because you said what my hair looked like and my glasses, but nothing else.

Me: Yes. I remember just fine. I could pick you out of a crowd.

My phone, at this point, has been vibrating steadily for about a half hour. I’m in bed, trying to read a book and J is snoozing off to my side. He went to bed early. Had a rough day, was already grumpy and later, I find out, my texting was adding to it.

Girl: How tall do you think I am? Come on smart guy. What size bra do you think I wear? LOL

WHOA! Hold the phone!! GUY??? I start coughing because now I realize she must have given her info to more than just me. AND, not only did she not remember my name, but she didn’t remember the name of the guy she met – because unless we had the same name, I did introduce myself in the very beginning.

So now she has switched from a crazy lesbian bitch to a weird, desperate for a date girl.

What did I say? Nothing.

Me: Oh, I’d say you were 5′2 and maybe a C chest.

Girl: wow! you ARE good.

Me: Thanks. Let me get some sleep now.

Girl: k goodnight.

I end the discussion. J at this point has gotten out of bed and wondered up front. I slide under the sheets and doze. A minute later, J wonders back.

J: Angelique, I don’t like this texting you’ve been doing. You barely know the girl.
Me: Don’t worry, I’m done. You coming to bed?
J: I let you go out Saturday, and its good and all, but then you come back with this girls number and wont let me read your messages. I don’t like it.
Me: Let me go out? You didn’t LET me go out. I’m grown J.
J: That’s not my point.
Me: You want to read her text messages, here. Please go ahead and do so. Gleefully.
J: Angelique, that isn’t the point.
Me: What is your point, J? What? Are you afraid that I went out and picked up a woman? Hell I came home EARLY that night? You think we made out in the bathroom stall? Fuck!
J: I’m just trying to protect you. She seems too friendly.
Me: Yea. I got that too. I can handle it. (I don’t tell him that she obviously thinks I have a penis or something)
J: Okay. I’ll leave it to you to manage then. (He lays down next to me, not realizing I’m fuming now. He doesn’t bother to read the text messages on my phone.)

A minute later…
J: Give me a kiss babe.
Me: No.
J: Why not? (He has the nerve to sound offended)
Me: Because you don’t trust me! You think I’m not capable of realizing she’s got the stalker gene? You think I can’t handle a woman just as well as I neuter the men that fuck with me? What did I really do here to piss you off? Did I make out with someone? Did I flirt with someone? Send naked pictures? What did I do J? I had a conversation. I spoke with someone and you got bent over it.
Thanks, that means you don’t trust me.

Silence.

Ten minutes later.

J: Yeah. You’re right. I was being an ass.
Me: Thanks. I was aware.
J: I’m sorry, babe. I just worry about you when I’m not with you.
Me: I can handle myself. I already told you that.
J: And I believe you. I do trust you.
Me: Thank you, J.
J: Can I have a kiss now?
Me: No.

Needless to say, he got his way. He does have this ability to weasel his way into my heart. We kissed, we made up (twice)…

No text messages today, but now, how in the world do I handle this girl?

Birthdays: Weekends: The people I love

I spent the weekend at two birthday parties for two very distinct people. I like those parties spent at home (mine or theirs) because you can have all of your friends over, have conversation, and not have it interrupted by club music, or a waiter that wants you to evacuate the table. J has converted me on this as the boys often gather here or another home, to just catch up.

The first, a long time friend of mine, was celebrating her 32nd birthday. She is someone who goes all out for every birthday, mine included, and hers was no less. She hired some fire dancers, and at last check, had a date with one of the guys. (Bet that will be some kinky sex, babe!) She reminds me that life is not all serious and is not all about me or you, all of the time, but when it is, it should be celebrated and enjoyed. Thank you, Amy.

The second, was J’s friend from law school. Jealously, I’d like to add that she is hot, single and not bi-sexual. Blissfully, the idea of J and her as a couple is laughable, and you get that from the outset. She’s a real ball buster and I like that about her because she does it without the feminist angle. There is nothing like a woman who can neuter you without playing the victim role. Hi-five, Mari!

On some crazy impulse, at the second party yesterday, J and I were overcome with lust. Ever have it just hit you out of no where? It just took a look and all of the sudden, we were making out like a couple of teenagers in a public restroom at the hotel where the second one was held. Thank God for locks because this sex was held on the sink and against the wall of the above mentioned ladies room.

The teethmarks on my neck and shoulders didn’t go unnoticed, but J knew they wouldn’t as I was wearing a dress that showed off both areas. He did it on purpose and this morning I noticed some bruising. I wish I knew how he keeps his focus like that. I can’t do those things mid-sex because I’m wrapped up in the sensation of it all. He plays my strings just right, knows just where to touch to make my knees give out, or my body erupt in goosebumps.

So that’s my weekend recap. Next weekend is the clubbing weekend for me and the girls. I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m going to buy something that will make J’s blood pressure spike.

Love:Sex:Lazy Mornings

I love slow, lazy mornings. J didn’t have anything to do until later, and I blissfully, didn’t book any clients until sometime around 4 this afternoon as a result. We still woke up early, as we always do, grabbed a quick breakfast and went out for a run. J is a good influence in that arena; I feel better than I ever have and everything that is soft on me, are things that should be soft on a woman.

A joint shower later, thanks to this monstrous and wonderful shower, and we were back in bed just wasting away the hours. Sex, yes, the toe-curling sort that makes my nipples hard as I read the sentence back in my head. J’s lips on my neck, his fingers on my waist, his sexy tongue kisses make me think of him when he is gone and show my hand so that I am defeated before he ever returns.

I am his…terrifyingly so. He holds from me something that he knows I want to hear. I am not sure if it is to torture me or to somehow wait for the right, perfect moment. Both are in his ability, and part of his sadistic mind. I love it and in so, serve as his masochist, physically, emotionally, mentally. So consumed.

His actions tell me so much, and make my feminine mind leap here and there between telling myself what I want to hear, and telling myself I am a fool for believing it. Today, on this slow lazy day of conquest, when I kissed him goodbye, I felt him say it against my lips…I think.

I fancy myself on a precipice but have already long fallen. I am his…beautifully so. I love you J.

Raining:Food:An obsession with HGTV

It’s been raining all morning. When I stepped out the humidity screamed rainstorm like nothing else. My hair frizzed and since then I’ve been running errands in crappy spring-in-Texas rain, with frizzy, ugly hair. My vanity is in my hair. I love it, and when it looks bad, I am usually in a bad mood. Not, you know, in a pouting starlet sort of way, but I don’t feel confident.

In cold weather, my mom used to make us comfort food. You know the sort, cookies, muffins, mashed potatoes and a wonderful Étouffée that could knock your socks off. All of those things are great, not for your waistline, but certainly for your attitude after one of days like I’ve had today. So I whipped out a recipe my sister sent me from Ohio – white chili. It’s made with chicken, three kinds of white beans, green chilies, onions, white corn and served with sour cream and Monterrey jack cheese. I love the stuff and if you stick with fat free sour cream (I refuse to purchase fat free cheese) then it isn’t bad for your waist. J insists on cornbread on the side – my southern man.

All this done while watching HGTV and fantasizing about a time when I’ll want to do something with this house. There were a few things that J and I changed outside when he purchased this place, but inside its contemporary meets old world, and perfect for my girlie heart. I think however, I am going to paint something red. Chili pepper red. We’ll have to see how that goes over with the big man, but I think I’ve got the inside track there.

He should be home soon and we’ll head next door to watch movies with the group. I AM LEGEND is on the list I’m told, but I also purchased Enchanted while I was out today. If the girl ratio is right — it goes in afterwards. Zombie movie watching should be rewarded with a prize, right?

Fridays:Why we didn’t bother:Laying like broccoli

It has been one of those Fridays for both of us. Crazy lunatic people (my day) and his day of dealing with ‘inferior’ (translate: dumbass) people. We were invited out to go to a new club this evening. J didn’t like the idea, one because he would be surrounded by women whose obsession wasn’t cock. I loved it and was excited about going… all up until 3 pm. Sometime during the hours of 3 and 7 (long window) my energy level went from perky (translate: I can take on the world) to ‘I hate this place and want to blow it up.’ The last thing I wanted was to stare at the people who I work with….drunk.

J who isn’t the master at dealing with changes of plans, and who had expected me to go out with the ladies this evening, altered his plans and decided to make a home night of it. We never, ever, do this. J has the energy of five men, and for someone who is wholly incapable of sucking down an energy drink, coffee or a power shot, this is amazing. It’s almost a freaking natural health commercial in and of itself. I’m digressing here.

So we stopped by the grocery store, picked up a ton of food and brought it home and have been doing nothing more than vegging all night long – between bouts of unadulterated sex. (I don’t know how people with kids keep a constant schedule – it would drive me batty!)

It was a refreshing change of pace. I didn’t have to pick out skimpy lingerie that matched what ever obscene thing I chose to wear (I dress fairly outlandishly – at the club). And with the bar here a drink or two doesn’t require a trip to the store. (Don’t even attempt to open that bottle of dusty brandy he’s got. Expensive something.. blah blah blah.)

The latter comment which I uttered outloud earned me a fairly brutal whipping (sigh), which he told me I also needed to add to this post lest his image as a bad ass (OW!) errr… Lord of all things good and yummy (OW!) errrr… the greatest man all all the Earth (Whew) be altered.

If you’ve followed me thus far, you’ve kept up with my scurrying train of thought and have earned a prize….

Pick it up at the following address:
OW
OW
OW
(Omitted per the harsh task Master next door)

Kisses,

Angelique