TMI Summertime

1. What is your favorite summer clothing item or outfit?

I love sundresses. LUV love. I'm not sure why. I almost never wear them in the sun, or even outdoors for the most part. In fact, of late I've had less and less opportunity to wear anything but either work clothes or things I lounge in. Haven't spruced up in a while. Maybe for a date soon (hint, hint, to the person I know is reading). Anyway, I've got a couple, in yellow and peach, that are somewhat out of character for me, being a lover of dark colors, but which I just adore. I even had a white one which I tiedyed at one point, but it got horribly stained and I had to get rid of it.

2. Did you or will you take a summer vacation? If yes, where did you go?

I wish. Except I almost don't wish, because summer is when everyone takes a vacation. I'd like to take a vacation sometime when no one else does. Anyway, no I didn't, and I probably won't because I'm just busy enough that I don't have an uninterrupted block of time in which to take said vacation. And I don't have the money to go anywhere I want to go. But maybe I can swing visiting Sheri or Mike. Or they could visit me. It's a vacation if I'm not working even if I'm at home, so I've just had to take mini vacations throughout the week. At this point, every hour of sleep is a vacation from the world.

3. What is your ideal weekend away (e.g. city, beach or wilderness)?

That's a good question. I haven't been to the beach in years, and I think fondly of it, but I don't think I actually want to go to the beach because of various sun and sand issues. I guess wilderness, although it has to be with running water and electricity because I'm past the stage where I toyed with being a wilderness nut. I am most definitely a fan of basic technology. Oh, and comfortable beds too; none of this sleeping-on-the-ground crap for me. I am a delicate flower.

4. What would you pack for a naughty weekend?

In truth, I'd rather stay home for a naughty weekend because we've got all the best stuff right here. But if I were going away for the weekend (or, as the case may be, some two-or-three-day period during the week because as a theatre person I don't get weekends) to participate in some naughtiness, I'd probably pack extra lube (yes, I pack lube for a normal trip) and extra toys (see above) and whatever props might come in handy. Maybe an exciting costume. What interesting answer is there for this question? Am I supposed to say, "Oh, I'd pack mayonnaise, a fur coat, and ball bearings."

5. What item(s) do you never unpack, never take out of the luggage from trip to trip?

I'm supposed to do what now? Um... my packing is fairly haphazard at best, so the only things I don't unpack between trips are things I never got around to unpacking from the previous trip. I don't specifically have a set of things that I never unpack. I just don't travel that much, and I hate packing. Usually I throw clothes in a bag and go. I don't have designated "travel" anything.

Bonus: Last vacation sex... Tell us what happened.

Last vacation sex... depends on your definition of "vacation." I've probably talked about it already if by "vacation" you mean I left my house and went on a trip for purposes other than business.

The last time I actually went on what I'd call a vacation was a long time ago, and I can't really remember it. So leaving off the "last" part of the equation, I'd like to talk a bit about some memorable vacation sex. I don't talk about the events surrounding this story much, so you'll just have to take it without context, at least for now.

He got us a hotel room that faced the beach. I'd never been in a hotel on the beach before, so he said he'd have to show me. It was still early in the relationship, when spontaneous was great and regular wasn't an issue. We both had some mad money and it was on off week, so we had quite a nice time living it up in a style to which neither of us was really accustomed. It was really too cold to swim and anyway we weren't there for swimming, but the weather was nice and the view was amazing from the balcony.

Our room was cheap as hell, really, for all that it had a great view: high up in the building, small, slightly dingy, basic cable, only a shower. But the beds could be pulled together, something you can't do often any more, and so we made one big bed out of the two medium-sized ones and then promptly spent most of our time on one side or the other, avoiding the gap in the middle like we were afraid it would swallow us up.

The first night we got in late, didn't have any energy to do anything but curl up and sleep, and we slept in the next morning, or rather the next day because it was late afternoon before either of us were up to anything more than lying there, snoozing, TV turned to something neither of us was watching.

When we finally opened the balcony door, pulled the curtains back and really looked out, we wondered why we hadn't done that before. It woke us up; the sea air was cool and bracing and smelled pleasant, all the seaweed and rotting having somehow been filtered out by the altitude I guess. He wanted to go down to the beach, even if we weren't going to swim, so we put on our suits and walked around with all the other people who were too cheap to go to the beach during the summer. The sun was low and the danger of cancer seemed slim, so I was wearing my new bikini, purchased for the trip because when else was I going to have a chance to go bikini shopping? I got a few stares, more from the fact that it wasn't really bikini weather any more than anything else. Most other people were wearing long sleeves.

We picked a dune and sat for a while until I was starting to get a bit chilly, then he said, "You know, I think it's more fun to look down than it is to sit here and look out."

"Smells better too." The shore was redolent with slightly salty must. Definitely not a shining, white-sand beach from a story book.

So we abandoned any idea of going out, went back to the room, and pulled off bathing suits and fucked, slowly and contemplatively, looking out over the waves from the bed. The sea air braced us again, salt tang in the nostrils, and we found that we could enjoy ourselves quite well in bed, which is where we spent the better part of the night and into the morning.

I couldn't sleep; he was like a log. After tossing and turning for hours, I got up at dawn and sat on our balcony, naked, looking out over the beach as the sun came up. I must have drifted off in the chair, because when I opened my eyes again the sun had risen and was baking me, and he was putting a towel over me. His cock stood out as whiter than the rest of him, possibly because he wasn't as into nudity as I was. I remember it sparkling, somewhat temptingly.

"What, you're not going to molest me in my sleep?" I asked him, grinning. He admitted that he'd been tempted. Then I leaned against the balcony rail and he knelt behind me and began licking, up from my clit over my labia and then over my asshole. It wasn't something we'd done before, but I didn't tell him I wasn't that into it. I let him go, looking out over the ocean, at the few people on the beach below. We were far enough away that it wasn't likely that they'd see us unless they looked away from the water and up, and the other balconies on the floor were divided from us by concrete walls for privacy, so it was just I and he and the waves and the breeze. I almost wished someone had been watching us; it would have added something. But the experience was nice enough as it was.

I got a bit sunburned on my breasts that day; he just got a bit tan. We spent most of the day on the balcony, with a brief trip to the store to get some supplies. I liked fucking up against the rail; he preferred sitting in the chair with me on top of him. Either way, it was lovely.

Then the next day we had to leave, to get back to real life. I carved a tiny message in the wall of the balcony, where no one could see. He stole the towels for no reason. We fucked right down to the wire, until five minutes before checkout time, then hustled out of the room leaving my toothbrush behind in the bathroom. That's the price you pay for paradise, I suppose.