From now on, “newfriend” (nf) will be known as AJ as he really does deserve a name of his own.
Now gather round chillen as I unfold to you a story of great excitement and tragedy. It all begins last Friday night, at Hellfire. Went with some friends, and had a marvellous time, dahling. Danced much, got many many compliments (many from Master Tom every time he skooched past). Every other topless lady in the place whom I passed had to stop and rub boobies with me… which tended to attract large crowds of pleasantly courteous admirers. In fact, it is one of the nicer things about girl/girl displays: I think men are less likely to be dickheads and molest you because they’re afraid it will stop if they do. Tee hee! A few gentlemen came up and told me how gorgeous the whole thing was.
I had some lovely dances, and just generally felt gorgeous the whole night long, wearing only transparent panties and gold paint.
There was one (as always) dickhead guy who I ended up telling quite frankly to fuck off, and hitting with my tie. Then he tried to crack onto C, and we had to tell him again to fuck orf. Bleagh. That particular patron is always a problem and next time, I’m gonna get him chucked out.
Hanging out by the rack, AJ and I got talking to a hetero lady who’s getting in contact with her submissive side. Then as we left to go snoozy, I pointed to my cheek to request a kiss from her, and she gave me a peck. Then she beckoned me back and tapped her boyfriend on the shoulder “Hey watch this”, and gave me a kiss on the lips…but he wasn’t watching! He missed her first ever girly kiss. Silly boy!
We rode quickly home through the rain, and tumbled into a warm shower then bedsies.
The Next Day, However…
AJ drove his ute out to Mittagong, and I was left with the prospect of a leisurely day to myself. Ah what to do? I went to the hardware shop, the art shop, the modelling shop and I bought some supplies for a project. I got home, and laid down to plan. Not too long after, I got a call from an unknown number… its AJ! He’s in trouble! His ute packed it in 20 km this side of Mittagong, and he discovered that he’d left his wallet AND mobile at my house the night before. Oh dear! He hitched from there to his destination, and (because no-one was home), broke in through the side window and then rang around numbers he could remember till someone had mine).
Yes, yes, SUPER-ANNA will ride down to the rescue! Besides, it was nice sunny weather out.
So I “rug up” for the longest ride I’ve ever undertaken. Leggins, jeans and oilskins; a few shirts, jacket, scarf, and off I go. I didn’t wear nearly enough. About 50 kms down the road, I start to seriously FREEZE.
So I learn to go 80 km (learner speed limit), I learn to negotiate trucks, I learn to corner and I learn to put the exact toll in my pocket for the toll stations. I eventually make it to the ute, call for directions. I make it to teh rendezvouz and get an escort the last 2 kms, by which time my brain is non-functional from the cold!
When I pull up, finally, AJ walks around the back of my bike and remarks that my license plates appear to be absent. Hmmmm, they’ve broken clean off. So in addition to fixing the ute, he starts trying to construct a temporary plate for me while I stand stifly by the fire, thawing.
He gets a lift to the mechanic for parts, then back to the ute, and I stay warming up for a little while longer. After a while, I left and found him on the highway, and he tailed me to the first servo and (romantic) bought my petrol and promised me dinner out where ever I liked! Aw.
So after getting home, cold with back aches and frozen fingers, I clamber into bedsies and rest up for a while before dressing for dinner. We went to Zenobia, and were stuffed with lovely lebanese foods! Rolled home to sleep, feeling like the day was tiring, eventful and a little bit wasted because nothing went to plan or was really achieved.
Next morning, I was rudely awoken at 10am by a phone call. “Hello, this is Constable Darrel Doyle of the Mascot Police. Is that Anna Aniston?”. Whoa! WTF!? What do you say when the cops call to wake you? No, they hadn’t found my license plate from off the M5. It transpires that they have my motorcycle bag, which I’d put in AJ’s car the day before. Some kind soul had handed it in to them, after finding it in an alley. So we trek off to the mascot police station instead of doing other things with the morning… and AJ has to contend with a broken quaterpane and missing change from the ashtray. Little bastard theives didn’t take anything except $6 in change and my bag (which they dumped after taking my medication). But they had to break something to get it. Meh.
