The Blonde Leading The Blind

Joanda, my massage therapist called me today seeking advice on how to be a sexy woman.

In case you don't have a massage therapist, they are generally more aware of your own body than your intimate friends, unless you're lucky and found someone who spends an hour a week doing nothing but touching (theraputically) your entire body.

Anyway, I told her my secret before she put her hands on my body, but long after we had our initial consultation. She initially saw me as a woman and was quite curious about my condition, but I didn't give it much thought after that. We were girls, all of us there in her office.

At first, I didn't notice her constant affirmations of me being sexy, and then, once aware, I assumed she was just doing her thing. She's cuban, a refugee- as in rode a raft across the ocean to get to Florida. Everything about this woman is sexy, her story, her affected accent, her shape, color, and demeanor, so it seemed improbable to me that she found me as sexy as she claimed.

So I was shocked to hear her voice on the other end of the line asking me (me!) for advice on getting affections (and money) from a man. But only for a moment, for I initially found the whole idea silly, but after we began talking, I realized there was a lot she did not know about American, specifically, boy culture.

The poor thing was being played by some jerk... making her think that he'd care for her and help out her business just so he could get in her pants. She wanted in his pants, for sure, but worse, thought his affections were genuine. Like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

So, I drew on my penis experiences (or more accurately, stories from other's penis experiences shared unsuspectingly to me in the role as double-agent) and I tried to get her to realize how his behaviour might be different if he truly cared for her.

Unsurprisingly, she didn't want to hear it and only listened to how she could be more alluring and sexy. How romantic the mindset of foreign women!

So, I drew on my vagina experiences (or more accurately, stories from other's vagaina experiences witnessed first hand) and I gave her gasoline for her fire.

Three days later, I called her to find out what the score was, but unsurprisingly, he was not in a hurry to love her or care for her, despite her giving herself to him. Poor thing, she deserves so much better.

"Buht yoo air alwees so sects-see whan I see yoo!"

>blush<

Thanks, Jo... right back at ch'a!