I am considering changing the theme of the site yet again, in light of Neil's comment on the last post. I feel like I need to develop an official seal. And around this seal should be stenciled my blog-motto:
Helena Lazaro
To Titillate and Amuse
I am accepting concepts for said seal.
That being addressed, on to the smut!! And lest you say you weren't warned, I'm making this clear: Way Too Much Information Ahead.
As you may know, I've been single again for exactly three weeks today. In only three weeks I've gone from Brokenhearted Man-Hater to to Twitterpeated Schoolgirl. If you think this is confusing, try dating me. Scary as hell. But totally worth it.
I have spent a lot of time with my friends, with my notebooks, and with the city. I have NOT spent a lot of time with dudes. And that means, in case you couldn't infer it (which I know you can, but I'm gonna spell it out in case you've had a long day), that I haven't had any action.
I know, I know. Three weeks is not long by the standards of many. But I'm not talking about the standards of many, I'm talking about MY standards (which are unreasonable and exacting). And by my standards, apparently, three weeks is too long. But I was unaware of it, until this need manifested itself in my dreams.
The night before last, I was dreaming about work. I was working late, I had a pile of product that we wanted to ship out to various associates. However, there had been a printing error on the packaging. I stood in the mail room, getting ready to ship off the wares. Then this guy from Legal walked in.
In my six weeks here, I haven’t said more than three words to him. I only know his name because it’s on the outside of his cubicle. But apparently I know enough about him that when my subconscious is casting the role of Cock in my sex dream, it chooses him. He’s tall and lanky, and wears short-sleeved button-up shirts—usually plaid. He looks young, about 28 or 30. And very serious. The only hint of personality I see in his workspace is a figurine of Cheech and Chong sitting atop a giant joint (an image we licensed). Perhaps it is this glimpse of depravity that drew me to him.
So in walks, uh, Jim. He stands behind me and says, “These are all going to have to be fixed.”
“Fixed?” I ask, unsure what he means.
“Yeah, this legal line right here, ‘©2005 Studio Studios, All Rights Reserved,’ is wrong. We have to blank it out.”
“Oh. Which line?” I am still confused, somehow.
“Here, let me show you,” he says, taking the white out (it’s white packaging) and painting a little stripe across the error. “See?”
“Ok, I think I get it.”
“I’ll show you again.” He stands directly behind me and puts the brush between my fingers. Holding my hand with his, he guides me in a steady line. I feel him get aroused.
“Should we wait for it to dry?”
“Yes.”
And then we do it with me bent over the counter, sending Star Trek action figures flying everywhere.
That’s as much as I’ll elaborate, because otherwise I might have to make this a paysite.
But seriously, how pathetic is that? The best my suppressed sexual desires can come up with? The guy from Legal in the UPS room? I’m disappointed in myself. This means I need to start dating, or reconsider my hasty judgment of Harriet Carter's more salacious offerings.
The best epilogue I could have imagined for this story…on my way into work today, Jim walked into the lobby at the same time I did. We got into the elevator together. Zero words were exchanged, and during the longest four floors ever, I managed to turn four shades of red. I also noticed that he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. And if my dream was any indication, he’s no slouch in the sack…something to consider, perhaps.
More desires, on the lot, sex, storytelling
Helena, I love you. I really do. You're a great writer. But that was one lame story. Just when you got to the good part, off you went. I hardly even got aroused by any of this. In fact, my mind was drifting off to some old Cheech and Chong routine that you reminded me about when you mentioned that figure on his desk.
You get a A+ for amusement, but only a C+ for titillation.
Is there a possibility that you might privately email each of us -- as Paul Harvey might say -- the "rest of the story?"
Posted by: Neil on August 24, 2005 06:03 PMwell, i'm jealous. at least your sex dreams involve a man. mine, when i do get the privilege, are typically about my leaning on some sort of vibrating machinery or metal, pole-shaped object.
Posted by: kristine on August 24, 2005 06:32 PMWhat makes you hot?
A challenge, hhmm perhaps a little?
That mysterious boy...
You want to break him and have really hot and steamy sex in the office!
Neil, filling in the blanks is part of the fun! Aside from which, the most arousing part in the dream was not the part I glossed over. It was the anticipation leading up to that moment; his hand on my hand, feeling him move closer and knowing he shouldn't...much more gratifying than what happens next.
Kristine, I love it! Haha. At least the pole will never hang out with its exgirfriend behind your back.
And no one knows better than Rina how much I adore a mysterious man.
Posted by: Helena on August 24, 2005 07:23 PMWell, I'm into acronyms, so i've been referring to this site as BAG: Helena.
Mmm. Bagging Helena...
A guy can dream, too, right?
Posted by: brando on August 24, 2005 08:19 PMBut...but... you didn't say which Star Trek action figures flew everywhere. Where they still in the packaging? Did ya break some? Did they get... dirty? ;]
Posted by: claire on August 24, 2005 09:06 PMWe need to go out and have some fun this weekend! Strictly for material purposes, we can't let your readers down!
Posted by: Marina on August 24, 2005 09:32 PMCome on, Helena, you work in Hollywood. You should know about the gender differences in what audiences want. Women like the mystery, the glance, the anticipation. Men just want to see the action.
Posted by: Neil on August 24, 2005 09:57 PMSo you once sent me this picture of you in a black and pink blouse that dipped to a shockingly low point on your chest. Actually, probably your belly by the time it got to where it got. That might be a suitable seal.
I know how you felt in the elevator. Last year I had a very explicit dream about a classmate in whom I had no prurient interest. Then, the next day, she sat down next to me for a 3-hour class. On the other hand, the other day I dreamt I was married to a woman in one of my classes (http://juniorbird.com/archives/001748.php). I'd never noticed her before. Now she looks hot.
Posted by: Wade on August 24, 2005 10:42 PMI'm an acronym!! With a dirty connotation! How delightfully dirty...see you in dreamland, Brando.
Ha, Claire, I think they were mostly Klingons. I think there may have been one or two casualties.
Rinabean, I agree we need to go out and have some fun...though I was trying to conserve my energy for the next kegger. My ass bruise is almost gone, and I'm not hungover anymore! In any case, I have to be home in time to blog about it, or Neil will scold me.
He only wants me for sex now.
You mean my Christmas Party outfit, Wade. I actually just took that picture off my old buzznet, which was its last online location. It was just too scandalous.
Posted by: Helena on August 24, 2005 10:55 PMUm... that story needs a little more... howyousay... cowbell.
Sheesh. "Fill in the blanks??"
Get over here. I'll fill in your blanks.
Mumbles: "3rd St, east of Fairfax... (ahem)" ;-)
I've got a naughty mind, so I filled in the blanks.
Reminded me of "Secretary" for some reason.
Hot.
Posted by: Unsomnambulist on August 25, 2005 12:16 AMSee, Neil!!
Thank you, Unsom. You may now eat three peas.
Posted by: Helena on August 25, 2005 12:23 AMI think it's amazing how such dreams effect your real life - something has really changed - it feels so real!
As a kid I once dreamt I kissed the most disgusting boy at my school - I was that age when a mere glance was considered a severely significant incident. I was mortified for weeks... And I never told anyone...
Posted by: Rarity on August 25, 2005 01:22 AMNow, doesn't it feel good to get that off your chest??
Posted by: Helena on August 25, 2005 09:38 AMCan you talk more about the Star Trek figures?
Posted by: Pauly D on August 25, 2005 11:42 AMYou know what I just realized I have no casual clothes! I'm sure going out to a bar in one of my Le Suits really wouldn't do!
Posted by: Marina on August 25, 2005 02:01 PMI agree with you, Helena - leave it to our imagination.
I got the visual just fine!
Good luck with the love life and definately go out and have some fun - you deserve it for sure :-)
Posted by: Jewels on August 25, 2005 02:06 PMUm, Jewels, we are BOYS. We do not HAVE imaginations. We prefer DIRTY DETAILS.
That is all.
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