I met Deignan when she was our freelance editorial cartoonist. She not only drew the cartoons, she came up with the concepts and wrote them. She was wise and had a wit so dry it would chap your lips.

She was strikingly beautiful with high cheek bones and an angular face, tall, and when I knew her, hair ripe with silver, rarely more than a quarter inch long. Her skin was always a Native American brown. I don't know if it was her genes or if she spent most of her time in the sun. Her eyes were vibrant and arresting. And her diction, her voice itself ... oh. She spoke to me as if she expected nothing less than brilliance, and her expectations made me try harder. In her normal mode of conversation, it was as if she chose each of her words carefully before she released the full thought.

She was a vegetarian, and her breath always smelled of garlic. And she was an animal rights activist. Strapped across the hood of her beaten up pickup truck was a man-sized dummy dressed as a hunter.

From her obituary I learned that Deignan was her last name. That she had first initials�D.E.�but not what they stood for. I learned that she was 50, and that she died as a result of a fall she took from a ladder outside her home. She died September 5, 2002.

I remember her as having a gentle, subtly flirtatious warmth.

I did not know Deignan well, but she was and always will be a woman I will never forget. Below is a portion of an editorial cartoon that she drew for us in 1992. She told me that she had based the cat on Tiger Dude, our newspaper's office cat back then. I asked her if I could keep the original, and she graciously gave it to me. I've always loved this drawing. [Please do not copy or distribute this image.]

Miscellany.

I happier news, my Mini has been ordered.

It's a thing of beauty. And I called the photo "mini on order," but if you rearrange the spaces, it also spells "minion order." I'm sure Miguelito would agree that that's a good omen.

Last night Deb told me that maybe it would make her feel better if Jake and I went up to Tennessee and kicked her father's ass.

Bad: Do we have to stop at just kicking his ass?
Deb: I don't want you to kill him because I don't want you to go to jail.
Bad: Can we use sticks when we kick his ass?
Deb: Sure.
Bad: Can we ride the scooter?

That made her laugh out loud. A sweet sound.

The four of us ate dinner at the Corner Tavern tonight and played pool afterward. Let me tell you, I su-uh-uh-uh-ucked. But we all had fun.

Anat has arrived and established residence in Hotlanta. I feel like we should do some sort of enormous, "Hello, Dolly" -scale production number to welcome her. Men with canes and spats. Women with big feathered hats. She and her main girl are having dinner at the ranch on Sunday, so I guess that'll do.

With Friday night's date Sara and I did two strangers who hooked up on the internet. She was reckless. He was menacing. Sounded dangerous but never actually hurt her. He convinced her to leave her back door open every night for the upcoming week. During one of those times, he would let himself into her house, sneak into her bedroom, and rape her. That's the ground work for a date we hope to have at some point this month.

I didn't strap on last night, so all of the fucking was by hand. She was on her belly for a good bit of it, and we finished with some mild ass play. Just enough to be interesting but not enough to need lube.

She ended up napping in the attic for an hour before she had to go to work.

Casualty list: one bed pad, two towels.

Tonight we had our date after I got back from class. I got home, put my stuff down, brushed my teeth, strapped on, got into fresh clothes and went upstairs ... where I found an empty bed and an empty pair of pajamas. I figured Sara had woken up early and gone next door. I let the dog out of her crate and followed her into the back yard where I found my date and her girlfriend.

Bad: "I'm all hung with no one to do!"
Jake (looking at my bulging basket): "You sure are."
Sara (also taking peek at basket): "I'll be right over."

Tonight I wasn't mean, I wasn't cruel, I didn't even hurt her. Tonight we played two quasi-generic characters. A man and a woman, both of whom appreciate sex, on a third date.

He talked her into letting him try hypnosis on her. She didn't think it would work, but she would give it a try. And she made him promise there would be no post-hypnotic suggestion.

I started by telling her to concentrate on the feel of my fingertips as they travelled over her body. She had her pajamas on, and she asked if I wanted to take them off. I said, "No. You'll do it for me in a little while." She said, "You know, when you sound so sure of yourself like that, it kind of turns me on."

I asked her to close her eyes and spoke quietly to her as I caressed her. I told her she would remember everything and feel everything but remain in her wonderful relaxed state until she felt the head of my cock penetrate inside her. Then, sensations would heighten dramatically. When she was under, I told her to stand and take off her clothes and to wait for me to tell her what to do next. She did exactly as I instructed. I told her I was going to tie her up and proceeded to do so. It was a lovely wrap if I do say so myself.

I dipped a finger between her legs and she was pooling wet.

For every move, I told her what I was going to do first. I guided her onto the bed, had her remain kneeling upright, and told her to spread her legs as wide as she could. I shucked off my jeans, condomed up, and slid myself underneath her, on my back, my thighs between her knees. Then I had her walk up my body, straddling me, until she felt the shaft of my cock slide between the lips of her cunt. She slid up and down me, slicking me up, working herself up.

I told her she had to move her body and capture the head of my cock and take it in. She tried. We tried. Finally, I had to guide it in. But it was worth the wait. I love watching her fuck herself from the top. She was loving the bondage, and being told what to do, and she came hard with me deep inside her.

I helped her onto her back, got a fresh condom and set the head of my cock just inside her. I told her exactly how bad she wanted it, how hungry she was, how empty she felt without my cock inside her. And then I told her how to ask for it.

"Please, please, please. Give it to me. Give it to me. Give it to me. Please."

I laid into her. God, that woman can fuck. She responds as if she can feel every stroke I throw through her whole body. I finished her up with my hand, and she gushed hard, soaking the towel and splashing up her torso. Ungh, ungh, ungh.

Afterward, out of scene, she came up with an interesting proposal that has me smiling. I'm still thinking about it, though. And I need to mention it to someone else before I broach the topic here.

Casualty list: two condoms, one bed pad, one towel, comforter.

Total for October: three condoms, six towels, four bed bads, comforter.

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11