Cathy’s name isn’t Cathy any more than Agnes’ name is Agnes; but I will relate my (upcoming) adventures with Cathy just as did with Agnes. I realize, of course, that I have no business writing about Cathy, or thinking about Cathy or fantasizing about Cathy or putting Cathy’s name in a sentence that’s anywhere near mine. Just the same, though, I shall do the very thing that I know better than to do and try to weasel my way into spending time with Cathy. No fool like an old fool, huh?
You must realize, fellow appreciators, that since you’ll get to follow this (mis)adventure from the privacy and safety of your own screen display while I get busy actually making an ass out of myself, you will gain more from these episodes than I do. Have fun — I sure will (until I don’t, and then I won’t be having fun at all!)
I am stupidly inserting myself into Cathy’s life even though Cathy is far too young for me, far too hot for me, and far too cool for me. In other words, she’s very much like Agnes who, as you will remember, I (practice) dated and then became enamored of once I discovered she was, like me, a “closet smoker”. I quickly developed an ‘appreciation’ for Agnes and then began imagining all sorts of provocative smoking scenarios with her in center stage and me in a front row seat.
I have, we all know, no business in the world imagining any kind of scenario with Agnes; but, nonetheless, I do (or did, since my whimsical pursuit has already reached its inevitable conclusion — that is to say, I am lost in the [figurative] forest and the [figurative] deer is completely out of sight. To speak plainly, Agnes is no longer taking my calls.)
Exit Agnes. Enter Cathy.
Here’s the deal: I work for a mental health agency which means I work for a health agency which means smoking is basically a no-no and most of us are non-smokers or pass for non-smokers except there are two lovely ladies who don’t seem to give a shit about being smokers at a health agency (or maybe it’s that they don’t give a shit about working for a health agency.) They’re both, you should know, genuine smokers who routinely smoke twenty or thirty cigarettes a day (unlike me who smokes three cigarettes a week) and experience honest-to-God nicotine cravings that simply cannot be denied (why does this make me hot?) Girls like that simply have to be ‘out’ about being smokers and — as “real” smokers are wont to do — they head ‘out’ at regular intervals and make themselves a little smoking area behind our office building and, well, they smoke.
And I watch ’em.
The rest of us non-smokers (ha ha) keep our distance while the two women engage in the serious business of gratifying their tobacco habit. They’ve got their little smoking area to themselves and no-one bothers them — it’s kind of like our ‘unwritten rule’. No one bothers them while they smoke except, one time about three or four months ago, I screwed up the courage to saddle up to Cathy (Wait! I forgot to tell you that part. Cathy happens to be one of the two smokers. The very same Cathy I intend to have adventures with.) and surprise her by speaking to her while she was smoking.
“So, Cathy” I was feeling pretty ballsy by now, “I’m wondering if you’d tell me what you like about smoking.”
So unready was she for my question that she let out a little gasp, causing her to blow smoke in my face — embarrassing her as much as it thrilled me. Once she figured out that I was truly curious and that I wasn’t going to warn her about smoking health hazards or urge her to quit she really opened up about the topic. I kept pumping her with questions and got her to tell me why she started, and how people reacted to her starting, and whether she’s happy being a smoker, and whether she ever gets hassled about smoking and on and on — and she’s smoking the whole time she’s talking to me and — since I continued to interview her — she lit up another cigarette as soon as she finished the first one.
And I was so happy, and I was so aroused. And this might gross you out but I ejaculated while we were talking. And, why would I lie?, it was ten times better than having actual sex with a non-smoker. She couldn’t possibly have realized it, but she was servicing me just by talking to me.
Do not doubt Charon’s Aide appreciates smokers! Mull on that, ladies, the next time you reach for a cigarette.
OK, OK, fast forward till Thursday of last week. I managed to work up the courage to confess to Cathy my, well, situation with smoking on alternate mornings while I had my ‘before work’ coffee in the park and she allowed as it might be a nice idea for her to have her ‘before work’ coffee in that same park and — seeing as we’d both be there — we might sit together and smoke cigarettes while we talked.
Just thinking about this gets me TOTALLY hot.
Anyway, we settled on the idea of meeting up this morning and I’m thinking about nothing else since we made our little “date” and then last night I get a text from her…
…you know, CA, maybe I’ll just sleep in tomorrow. Let me give you a ‘rain check’.
A rain check. Aaaaarrrgh. Does she really mean to reschedule or is she simply blowing me off?
Time will tell. And as soon as it does, I’ll tell all of you.