May 2015

May 1st, 2015

I received the following email from my web designer, Scot Ipsum,

“Iris –

After several attempts to contact you and collect payment, I have no choice but to disable your website.  Please contact me as soon as possible to avoid further of disruption in service.”

I instantly went to my browser and typed in Expresso’s URL only to find the most hideous and hurtful filler page ever known to man.  The page, in big block letters, informed the world, “This page has been temporarily disabled due to lack of payment.”  I was absolutely mortified!  I instantly called the scoundrel and promised to make a payment of $1000 by noon, but he insisted that my payment be at least $3000 or the dastardly filler page would remain.  I had no choice other than to sprint to my bank and immediately wire the funds into his account.

I walked home from the bank completely broken.  I only was able to enjoy a measly five days of carefree living before I was forced back to the drudgery and toil of a beggar’s life.  Nothing could stop my mind from drowning in concern over the cost of tonight’s dinner and the non-refundable hotel room that I had reserved for my night of romance with Brett.

I toyed with canceling the night altogether, but truly, if ever there was a time that I needed the comfort of Brett’s arms, it was after a day like today.  I only hoped and prayed that I would be able to muster the charm and good temper needed into to ensure that Brett remained both clueless to my unfortunate situation and tempted by my feminine wiles.


May 2nd, 2015

My carefully laid out plan to entice Brett French into asking me to spend the night with him at a luxurious downtown hotel was successful in what it set out to achieve, but has left me with a mountain of mixed emotions.

The night started out wonderfully.  Brett and I shared a mouth-watering, expensive dinner at one of the finest eateries in Chicago.  While I was terrified at the amount we were spending, Brett’s company was so enthralling that I was able to have an absolutely splendid time.  I was whisked away to a future time where I was able to picture us, a high-profile couple that rivaled Randy Gerber and Cindy Crawford, dining at one of the finest restaurants in the world while others marveled over our presence.

With my plan to lure Brett into a night of passion firmly in motion, we hadn’t even finished our main course before Brett was hinting that we should get a room upstairs.  Not wanting to seem too eager, I was careful to allow Brett to appeal to my sexual desires for exactly 10 minutes before I excused myself from the table.  I then sprinted down to the reception desk and checked into the room I had reserved a couple night’s ago.  When I came back to the table, I presented Brett with the room key and whispered in his ear, “If you insist.”

Brett was instantly thunderstruck.  He all but demanded to pay for the dinner and then he took me in his arms and started to kiss me right at our very table.  I slipped one of the room keys into my sequined clutch and then told Brett to stay at the table, have a cocktail, and then meet me in our room in 10 minutes.

Once Brett walked into the room, he ravished my body.  At first, I was timid; I was uncertain if I was being too lustful.  But then Brett, always quick with his wit and charm captivated me so thoroughly that I was powerless to say no to his body.  We danced the dance of lovers until we both fell into each other’s arms, unable to further move.

All was perfect until I was drifting off into a deep sleep when I heard the television click on and then heard the vile sounds of ESPN’s Sport Center polluting the airwaves.  Can I really devote my life to someone that is completely obsessed with nothing but sports, sports, sports?


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