Well, That was Different

By all accounts yesterday was a good day. I made it to the bank and work on time. Made a few sales throughout the day, nothing big. Enjoyed the ambiance of the shop (read: sat on the couch reading haute fashion mags from Europe and drank tea from vintage china while listening to world/techno) and had a pretty slow day. No friends wished me a happy one until the girl I'm crushing on called during her lunch break to do so. It looked like I'd get out of there on time. But then, at about 6:55, a friend came in, and then another, and then more and more people kept showing up, and one friend called on the phone to sing to me and at the same time I was giving and getting hugs everywhere. The atmosphere was quite friendly and energetic. Someone gave me a box of Samoas (omg, where are the Somoas! Must eat!) but mostly it was hugs. (Mmm, Samoas...)

From there I met with the housemate and drummer, and they went to get me some food from the restaurant next door while I made my way to the liquor store. I was right in my suspicion of there being some confusion about my birthday. The guy at the counter wasn't sure he could sell to me because technically, it wasn't my birthday yet. Even though I could reason that, well, my birthday simply doesn't exist this calendar year. I went outside to ask the manager, who was smoking, and he couldn't help but laugh. So I was in. Easy enough but confusing for them. Ironically, I never bought porn on my 18th birthday, even though I've been consuming it longer than I have alcohol (which until this year has been never). So a bottle of vanilla vodka and a bottle of Parrot Bay later, there was just one more stop to make, and it was right around the corner.

My dinner arrived and I chowed down a few bites, it was running late but I had to have some food in my stomach for this. Some discussion in the lobby, talking to the shop owner. His room was nice, two deep red walls, two off white, and a black ceiling. Went with his black leather medical chair with two white racing stripes. Very slick room, good mojo. I saw that chair and thought how fun it would be if he tied me to it and had his way with me. And in a way, he did--just no bonds. The cursory review, first facing him and his trained eyes analyzing. "Chin up" as he lifted my face with a finger under my chin. Then he was behind me, sweetly gathering and holding my hair back as he continued his exam. Time for the chair. We got the hardest one out of the way first, "No sweets that didn't hurt too much now did it?" No sir, not too much. The second was quick, although I really don't recall him saying anything about blood. My mind, although completely connected to what was going on, was *so* not in the mindset to be recording what anyone was saying. The third was fast, that final "click" of the ball snapping in to place and I was done. A slow rise, and a check in the mirror.

"Ohmygod, my ear is so red!"

That would have been the cartilage piercing I was referring to, in my right ear. Made the jewelry look like gunmetal although it's your typical surgical stainless steel. The seconds in my lobes don't hurt nearly as much, thank heaven I can still lay my head down or sleeping would have been way hard. The piercing was at about 8 last night. At 11, I was rolling my neck to relax it and hit my ear on my shoulder. I don't remember what I said, but I think it was something like this: "aaaeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" It isn't a sharp pain; at no point was I feeling close to being overwhelmed or passing out. But it is pain, a dull, hot, throbbing pain. Soon after hitting my ear on my shoulder, I was consumed with the knowledge that my pussy was absolutely throbbing. The vodka might've had a bit to do with the complete lack of care of how my body could be used, but damn did I want it to be used! I had no idea that the cartilage of my right ear was directly linked to my clit. And I thought to myself that this will be very good--I can already feel the intense sensation of a tongue flicking the little ring, before the lips are sealed around it and I sink into oblivious pleasure. Ears? Erogenous? Go figure. Still damn horny though.

The best part of being 21 isn't the drinking. It's the fact that now I can go to the bar concerts to seduce the band (or members thereof). I can go to clubs and dance with cute boys in vinyl shirts to industrial music. I can go the the fetish ball being sponsored by the piercing shop, and watch the suspensions and performances. This is where things are going to get interesting...