Morrigan

This is from some emails I exchanged with this hot little blond, Mary Jane, about a New Year’s Eve party I attended at a club. Morrigan was a fetish model. She showed me some pictures of her in red and black leather and vinyl corsets.

Morrigan

Party 2005/12

To Mary Jane:

So let me tell you about this party I attended. I actually met Morrigan -- which means goddess of battle, strife, and fertility -- there. She was wearing a black dress. I was wearing a black t-shirt with jeans and a brown houndstooth jacket. She didn't think I was going to be there and was very happy to see me. I met her yesterday and she recommended I meet her there tonight. I really didn't think much was going to happen.

So you know women pretty well, I imagine, being one. There were about 50 people there, a rather small party. All the women were rather good looking. The guys were all, well guys. One guy looked pretty old, and just sat there. One guy was pretty old, wearing a knitted hat and thick glasses that he had problems wearing. There were these two Latinos who seemed pretty interesting, but I was never able to talk to them. One was wearing a pinstripe suit with a fedora. He had long hair to the middle of his back. The women were all a little aloof, except Morrigan. There was one named Ivana, who didn't speak English. She made me kiss her hand! She was wearing a lime-green dress. So why did all the women look at themselves in the mirror? There was a large one at the end of the room.

When I complimented Morrigan, saying she was pretty, etc, she blushed. She didn't want to believe it. Do you blush when I say you're beautiful? Do you believe it? To a very pretty redhead with waist-length hair, I acknowledged her beauty. She looked away and left with a bored look on her face.

So M and I are sitting and one of the other women calls her so she goes over and starts talking with some guy. Well at this time I'm busy observing the old guy with the knitted cap. I guess Ivana came alone, so she was sitting by herself. So M rejoins me, apologizing, saying that she and the guy lived next door to each other, but she didn't know that. Boy did he make a good impression on her. He was wearing a blue banded shirt. I didn't particularly like the guy; I felt he lacked wit. One of those Neanderthal sorts. But he was persistent. If that was a Neanderthal trait, they would be ruling the world right now. Maybe they are. So she re-joins me for a little while, we dance, the food had disappeared somewhere. Good cookies, though. I only drink water. M drank--you know, I don't know. It was in a red cup. Then as we sit once again, N-man calls her over again. Can't he come to her? So I see this is going nowhere, and tell her I'm leaving. I told N-man to buy her dinner. He grunted.

I apologize for the terrible sentence structure and lack of cohesive thought, but I'm sure you got the gist.

From Mary Jane:

No no-I love it. Please keep writing to me I do enjoy it. I wonder about Ivana. I would want to sit with her. What color hair did she have? (i guess im wondering more about skin tone lime green is difficult) Morrigan's blushing says a lot about her. I'm guessing you realized that though. I blush all the time. It takes hardly anything at all and my collar bones turn pink. Most pretty girls get that they are pretty a lot. But if you're as good of a speaker as you are a writter I'm suprised at the red head's reaction. I guess a judgement of modesty and arogance would be unfair.

To Mary Jane:

I am a little short on time myself right now, but Ivana had blond hair with dark roots. Her skin tone was a 2 or 3, if you know what that means. (Five skin tones, 1 being very fair, the kind that burns easily, 5 being the blackest.) I would put you at 1 or 2. I'm at 3 or 4. I'm not sure you'd like Ivana. None of the other women did.

The red haired beauty had tattoos on her back (her dress was open) her arms, her legs, probably more. They were disjointed, not a cohesive piece. No story to be told, so I could gather. I'm not into ink or jewelry (tattoos or piercings). But you know much more about this than I. She was also very thin, not anorexic, natural with small women appendages, wonderfully shaped. Those things that drive most men crazy. I'm not really one of those guys, but her legs were lovely as well. Two of my friends I've mentioned, Stawf and Jesse, only want women with large those things.

There was a woman there, I'll call Whisper because she was whispering to the other women. Her looks were perfection. Sculpted. Dyed blond/black shoulder-length hair. If you know who Marie Gray is, this woman was a ringer. (Marie Gray is the daughter and model for St. John Knits, a very upscale clothing line based locally.) And she knew it. But perfection is boring. Beauty needs an imperfection. Something to draw attention. Are you imperfect? Where? So you admit you're pretty, huh?

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Wotton
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