(no subject)
Dec. 9th, 2002 06:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
neverwhereFinally an update. I've been so lazy lately! Not that anyone noticed I'm sure. ;-)
I squeaked my way through the concert, and completely ruined any hope of recovery by weds day by shouting (well, screeching) to get my spoken bits heard in the audience. At least they could tell I was ill and not an appalling singer. So it was allright, not nearly the disaster I thought it would be, And I ate lots of chocolate afterwards to comfort my weary soul. Which is always a good thing. *grins*
I made a new friend who is spookily similar to me, fellow Purple Princess![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hyzenflay! *hugs and beeps her nose* :D
And say hello to the adorableruination! She is just as cute and ickle as can be. *fluffs her up and squeezes*
Oh, andthecheekymonkey has just told me to put 'I love you!' in big shiny letters here. Isn't he sweet? :)
I've been making lots of icons lately, some Powerpuff Girls, LOTR, Phillip Pullman, Sandman and various other bits, so if anyone wants one just ask. It's just so much fun! (And yes, I am that bored and lonely, thanks for asking. ;-)
The amazingly talented and wonderfultrianne wrote me a story! It's a belated birthday present, and I absolutely adore it (just as I adore her!) -- it's very silly and fun, and all about ME, so how could I not be in love? *giggles*
Warning: Contains Language
“Excuse me, am I in the right place for the Michael Palin thingy?” he asks. She is not in the mood for the stupidity of foreigners – and Scots are foreigners, aren’t they? Well maybe not, but she is in a foul mood. She broke the heel on her new shoes and had to dash into Jonathan James and buy nasty cheap ones as an emergency measure. And they hurt! So it is with a withering glance that she looks up from her “Stage”.
Into eyes of pale jade, eyes which shimmer and sparkle.. fine eyebrows frame those eyes of liquid loveliness, long lashes encircle them, fluttering like spiders on crack cocaine.
“Did you answer me?” he asks, puzzlement adorning his adorable features and she realises with horror she just said something akin to *bibble*. Out loud.
But she is an actor! She can recover her poise. Oh yes. Be still heart pounding like an express train on a one way track to Orgasmville, no stopping, no buffet car, improper use of the emergency cord will result in a £100 fine..
“Why, yes. It is. I am also here to see Michael. He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she says, evenly and sweetly and demurely. Demure. She wonders if she could rugby tackle him and drag him into the cloakroom without drawing too much attention from onlookers. He is slightly built but somehow *wiry*. She likes wiry.
“Good! I thought I must be in the wrong place. Do you mind if I stand with you? My name is Billy,” he says, smiling. His mouth parts a little, that perfect, quirky upper lip, that slightly pursed bottom one. Oh.
“Nevvie,” she replies, casually, “nice to meet you, Billy. Are you a fan of Michael’s?”
He grins. Forget Orgasmville, it’s a rocket trip to Planet Orgasm, a million light years away in the constellation Bibble. Only visible through the Bibble Telescope. All aboard, strap yourselves in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride..
“Oh yes! Great guy! And so damned nice, too!” he says. And then the doors open and they are in the auditorium and oh my god! He is sitting down next to her, asking if she minds. Minds!? Like try to sit anywhere else Pip, and you risk a broken arm.
She tries to breathe naturally, tries to make the rise and fall of her chest seem alluring rather than asthmatic, wishes she had worn the red top.. wishes her Jonathan James £9.99 shoes weren’t rubbing on her ankle bone, wishes she had worn “Eau de Seduction” instead of the Safeway’s own brand deodorising spray. But he doesn’t seem to mind, he keeps glancing at her, smiling.
The lights go down. The spotlight comes on. Michael is there! And for a brief moment, Nevvie forgets Billy because Michael is on stage and he is so damned wonderful! He talks for an hour about Mongolian goatherds and their diet of dung and diet Pepsi; of Amazonian Indians who tried to get him to marry their daughters – all seventeen of them – and who could only be bought off by his wristwatch, his underpants and his 1949 Boys Own Soccer Annual. He is funny and serious and utterly compelling.
Nevvie is so enthralled she barely notices that Billy has placed his hand on hers. He squeezes.
She gasps. Michael, four rows away on the stage, hears, and pauses in the middle of telling his Australian bushfire story, a collection of singed koalas and thirteen dehydrated wallabies suspended mid-sentence. Nevvie blushes. Michael smiles and continues.
Billy moves his hand to Nevvie’s knee. She bites back another gasp.
“I love you hair. And your eyes, both of them,” he breathes, breathily. She swallows.
“I love your knees, so unknobbly, and most of all I love that scent you’re wearing,” he says, softly, caressing her thigh.
“Way to go, Safeway’s home brand!” she thinks. But then she can think of nothing but his hand, creeping up her leg, imbuing every inch of her with a fever.
She traps his hand between her legs. It lies there, still and obedient. Then the fingers flex, stroking and smoothing.
“Take me home, “ he says, hopefully. Hopefully?
“Sssh, Michael hasn’t finished,” she says, firmly. He seems to like her being firm, positively relishes her authoritarian stance. He nods.
They sit and listen for another ten minutes to Michael’s wonderful stories, then he has finished, the audience is on its feet, clapping madly, Nevvie clapping louder than anyone.
Billy drags her out of the theatre into the cold night air and straight into a taxi.
In the back seat, he nuzzles her neck. She gives the driver the address and they are off. To hell with it! Alone with Billy, Nevvie turns and pins him forcibly into the seat, anchoring him firmly. Try changing your mind, Mr. Boyd!
His hands clasp her breasts, squeezing circles of fire which radiate from Mount Nipple and thence to all points south. Never before have her boobs been so well and truly – got at. All those slash stories about Billy and Dom – ah! Utter rubbish, obviously.
He is all but mounting her as the taxi pulls up at her place. With a discreet cough, the driver draws their attention to the fact that he wants them out and wants paying. She pulls out her purse but Billy gallantly sees to the fare (no tip). Then they are up the stairs and on the brink of paradise.
“Oh, Billy,” she sighs, dreamily. “This is my dream come true, believe me.”
“It is for me, too. I have had such doubts.” He looks so vulnerable suddenly.
She flicks on the light, guides him to the couch and fixes them both a drink.
“Doubts?” she asks, shrugging off her top.
“About my abilities – with the fairer sex..” he says, suddenly shy.
“Oh,” she says, gulping back her brandy.
“Be gentle with me, sweet lady, you are my first woman for a very long time,” he says, and his eyes are like an angel’s newly fallen from heaven, sweet and slightly moist.
“I will, Billy, I will, I promise my darling” she replies, tenderly, tugging off his trousers. Oh god!
Sighing, she decides it best to leave the handcuffs and whip till the next time. Though maybe the novelty condoms and chocolate body paint might be due an airing. Oh yes…
And she wonders how he will react when Michael calls round.
As he usually does at this time on a Wednesday evening.
Oh well, time will tell… and the bed is definitely big enough for three.
The End
*applauds and cheers for the beautiful Trianne* You're the best, thank you. :))
And finally...
Who wants to meet Nevvie at the Two Towers Premiere in London!
Please sign your name below. *grins*
I squeaked my way through the concert, and completely ruined any hope of recovery by weds day by shouting (well, screeching) to get my spoken bits heard in the audience. At least they could tell I was ill and not an appalling singer. So it was allright, not nearly the disaster I thought it would be, And I ate lots of chocolate afterwards to comfort my weary soul. Which is always a good thing. *grins*
I made a new friend who is spookily similar to me, fellow Purple Princess
hyzenflay! *hugs and beeps her nose* :D And say hello to the adorable
ruination! She is just as cute and ickle as can be. *fluffs her up and squeezes*Oh, and
thecheekymonkey has just told me to put 'I love you!' in big shiny letters here. Isn't he sweet? :)I've been making lots of icons lately, some Powerpuff Girls, LOTR, Phillip Pullman, Sandman and various other bits, so if anyone wants one just ask. It's just so much fun! (And yes, I am that bored and lonely, thanks for asking. ;-)
The amazingly talented and wonderful
trianne wrote me a story! It's a belated birthday present, and I absolutely adore it (just as I adore her!) -- it's very silly and fun, and all about ME, so how could I not be in love? *giggles* Warning: Contains Language
“Excuse me, am I in the right place for the Michael Palin thingy?” he asks. She is not in the mood for the stupidity of foreigners – and Scots are foreigners, aren’t they? Well maybe not, but she is in a foul mood. She broke the heel on her new shoes and had to dash into Jonathan James and buy nasty cheap ones as an emergency measure. And they hurt! So it is with a withering glance that she looks up from her “Stage”.
Into eyes of pale jade, eyes which shimmer and sparkle.. fine eyebrows frame those eyes of liquid loveliness, long lashes encircle them, fluttering like spiders on crack cocaine.
“Did you answer me?” he asks, puzzlement adorning his adorable features and she realises with horror she just said something akin to *bibble*. Out loud.
But she is an actor! She can recover her poise. Oh yes. Be still heart pounding like an express train on a one way track to Orgasmville, no stopping, no buffet car, improper use of the emergency cord will result in a £100 fine..
“Why, yes. It is. I am also here to see Michael. He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she says, evenly and sweetly and demurely. Demure. She wonders if she could rugby tackle him and drag him into the cloakroom without drawing too much attention from onlookers. He is slightly built but somehow *wiry*. She likes wiry.
“Good! I thought I must be in the wrong place. Do you mind if I stand with you? My name is Billy,” he says, smiling. His mouth parts a little, that perfect, quirky upper lip, that slightly pursed bottom one. Oh.
“Nevvie,” she replies, casually, “nice to meet you, Billy. Are you a fan of Michael’s?”
He grins. Forget Orgasmville, it’s a rocket trip to Planet Orgasm, a million light years away in the constellation Bibble. Only visible through the Bibble Telescope. All aboard, strap yourselves in, it’s going to be a bumpy ride..
“Oh yes! Great guy! And so damned nice, too!” he says. And then the doors open and they are in the auditorium and oh my god! He is sitting down next to her, asking if she minds. Minds!? Like try to sit anywhere else Pip, and you risk a broken arm.
She tries to breathe naturally, tries to make the rise and fall of her chest seem alluring rather than asthmatic, wishes she had worn the red top.. wishes her Jonathan James £9.99 shoes weren’t rubbing on her ankle bone, wishes she had worn “Eau de Seduction” instead of the Safeway’s own brand deodorising spray. But he doesn’t seem to mind, he keeps glancing at her, smiling.
The lights go down. The spotlight comes on. Michael is there! And for a brief moment, Nevvie forgets Billy because Michael is on stage and he is so damned wonderful! He talks for an hour about Mongolian goatherds and their diet of dung and diet Pepsi; of Amazonian Indians who tried to get him to marry their daughters – all seventeen of them – and who could only be bought off by his wristwatch, his underpants and his 1949 Boys Own Soccer Annual. He is funny and serious and utterly compelling.
Nevvie is so enthralled she barely notices that Billy has placed his hand on hers. He squeezes.
She gasps. Michael, four rows away on the stage, hears, and pauses in the middle of telling his Australian bushfire story, a collection of singed koalas and thirteen dehydrated wallabies suspended mid-sentence. Nevvie blushes. Michael smiles and continues.
Billy moves his hand to Nevvie’s knee. She bites back another gasp.
“I love you hair. And your eyes, both of them,” he breathes, breathily. She swallows.
“I love your knees, so unknobbly, and most of all I love that scent you’re wearing,” he says, softly, caressing her thigh.
“Way to go, Safeway’s home brand!” she thinks. But then she can think of nothing but his hand, creeping up her leg, imbuing every inch of her with a fever.
She traps his hand between her legs. It lies there, still and obedient. Then the fingers flex, stroking and smoothing.
“Take me home, “ he says, hopefully. Hopefully?
“Sssh, Michael hasn’t finished,” she says, firmly. He seems to like her being firm, positively relishes her authoritarian stance. He nods.
They sit and listen for another ten minutes to Michael’s wonderful stories, then he has finished, the audience is on its feet, clapping madly, Nevvie clapping louder than anyone.
Billy drags her out of the theatre into the cold night air and straight into a taxi.
In the back seat, he nuzzles her neck. She gives the driver the address and they are off. To hell with it! Alone with Billy, Nevvie turns and pins him forcibly into the seat, anchoring him firmly. Try changing your mind, Mr. Boyd!
His hands clasp her breasts, squeezing circles of fire which radiate from Mount Nipple and thence to all points south. Never before have her boobs been so well and truly – got at. All those slash stories about Billy and Dom – ah! Utter rubbish, obviously.
He is all but mounting her as the taxi pulls up at her place. With a discreet cough, the driver draws their attention to the fact that he wants them out and wants paying. She pulls out her purse but Billy gallantly sees to the fare (no tip). Then they are up the stairs and on the brink of paradise.
“Oh, Billy,” she sighs, dreamily. “This is my dream come true, believe me.”
“It is for me, too. I have had such doubts.” He looks so vulnerable suddenly.
She flicks on the light, guides him to the couch and fixes them both a drink.
“Doubts?” she asks, shrugging off her top.
“About my abilities – with the fairer sex..” he says, suddenly shy.
“Oh,” she says, gulping back her brandy.
“Be gentle with me, sweet lady, you are my first woman for a very long time,” he says, and his eyes are like an angel’s newly fallen from heaven, sweet and slightly moist.
“I will, Billy, I will, I promise my darling” she replies, tenderly, tugging off his trousers. Oh god!
Sighing, she decides it best to leave the handcuffs and whip till the next time. Though maybe the novelty condoms and chocolate body paint might be due an airing. Oh yes…
And she wonders how he will react when Michael calls round.
As he usually does at this time on a Wednesday evening.
Oh well, time will tell… and the bed is definitely big enough for three.
The End
*applauds and cheers for the beautiful Trianne* You're the best, thank you. :))
And finally...
Who wants to meet Nevvie at the Two Towers Premiere in London!
Please sign your name below. *grins*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-12-09 01:39 pm (UTC)*giggles*
Very cool story Trianne!
*signs name in capital letters* Although my friend has 'plans' for the day. Why does this sound sinister?...
no subject
Date: 2002-12-09 02:41 pm (UTC)Trianne is astoundingly brilliant, and everyone knows it except her. *G*
Are you going to be there on weds? I'll be around Leicester Square all day, so anytime you can meet and say hi would be great!
no subject
Date: 2002-12-10 09:15 am (UTC)*ideas brewing*
If I text you my mobile number, would it be possible for you to text me back tomorrow when you are there? Then through the wonderful work of mobile phones we could meet up!
We may be doing a tourist bit at St Paul's in the morning depending on how much time we have.
Re:
Date: 2002-12-10 11:42 am (UTC)I do have it, but it doesn't seem to be working. *grr*
I was planning on emailing the people who might be there my mobile number so I'll just add yours to the list. :)