Flirting in El Paso

Looking out my hotel window at dawn towards Mexico

Looking out my hotel window at dawn towards Mexico

This title is more innocuous than it sounds. I flirt with everything – cats that I meet, old ladies, young men. It must be part of my personality or I have inherited my Dad’s charisma. When I worked in community mental health, I developed a knack of getting people to trust me quickly by gently focusing on them and asking pertinent questions. You can probably imagine that if you are a guy and met me at a bar then you would think your luck was in…and it certainly would be, having the pleasure of my company (so humble, too).

Amazing bank with a bell tower, right under my window

Amazing bank with a bell tower, right under my window

I met a fellow blogger, Lisa on one evening and that was a delightful experience – see this post Kerry in the City. On two consecutive nights, I chatted to a charming Silver Fox at the bar who was in El Paso on business (the other Hispanic Silver Fox (Senor Fox de Plata) was just interested in sex….) Gringo Silver Fox told me all about his wife but clearly enjoyed the ‘flirting’ enhanced with a Scottish accent. We left at the same time and took the elevator upstairs. As we got to his floor, I bid him goodnight and he awkwardly hugged me and then ran away! Is my sexuality so potent that he was afraid I would drag him back to my lair?? He took me by surprise and I had a small concern about meeting him on the third night in case I had to gently turn him down. Actually, I am really tactless so it wouldn’t be gentle 😆

Roof top bar Hotel Indigo

Roof top bar
Hotel Indigo

On the third night, I was chatting to a fascinating guy. He was the lighting guy for Penn and Teller (Non-Americans might like to click on the red link), who were starring in the local theater. I learned a secret…Teller does actually talk, all the time! As we were laughing and talking, Silver Fox came up and said hello to me. I greeted him with a warm smile but as soon as he realized I was chatting to a much younger guy, he made an excuse to make a call and disappeared completely. Awwww – it was like being at high school💋. Lighting guy then had to leave so I just chatted to the bar staff until a very attractive woman came up and sat next to me.

She made a comment about the awkwardness of sitting at a bar – I am never awkward since my blessed tongue won’t stop even when I want it to! By the next drink we were sharing cosmetic secrets, love lives – it was a ‘bromance’ for girls!!! (Some how ‘sismance’ doesn’t do it) She was very well preserved, a couple of years older than me and dressed beautifully. Then we started telling each other how amazing we looked (for our ages). Somehow it was even more fun flirting with a heterosexual woman because you knew she wasn’t just saying it just to get your knickers off! We have since emailed.

I teetered off to bed, relieved but a little sad that I didn’t have to turn down the nice Silver Fox. I wonder if any of the bar staff said, “She could talk the hind legs off a donkey” or whatever the Spanish equivalent is.

PS. I found two Spanish phrases that might apply to me –

• En boca cerrada no entran moscas
Flies don’t enter a closed mouth
Meaning – Sometimes it’s best to keep your mouth shut

• Mucho hablar y poco decir juntos suelen ir
Talking lots and saying little usually go together
Meaning -Someone who talks too much, but actually doesn’t really say anything

Museo de Larco

 

I am sure Teddy thinks this is ceramic hyperbole but I think I should have waited to marry a Peruvian. Maybe I will keep an eye out for my second Peruvian husband at the airport?

I am sure Teddy thinks this is ceramic hyperbole but I think I should have waited to marry a Peruvian. Maybe I will keep an eye out for my second Peruvian husband at the airport?

This is a post which I wrote some time ago but didn’t publish and it follows on from our Postcard from Lima, Peru

The Museo de Larco was set in what looked like a private estate with beautiful gardens and flowers. After we had completed our tour of the main building, our guide said, ‘and now we are going to the sex museum’. The three of us, in our group, looked at each other with eyes wide open and followed her obediently. On route to the museum we got chatting to our fellow tourist who was Jewish New Yorker whose family emigrated from Ukraine to the US. He was in Lima for business with a couple of extra days for pleasure. His notebook had two pages full of gourmet restaurants that he had been trying out so we guessed that he was certainly a foodie but also a writer. I had the impression that he was gay but he didn’t confirm it until I noticed what he photographed most in the museum.

Our middle-aged guide was most likely an academic, perhaps a historian. Like the other guide she was very straight forward and told us later that we had 7 minutes to look at the shop and take photographs! Not 5 or 10, precisely 7 minutes; ‘Yes, Ma’am!’ With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, we followed her into the building. My, these ancient Peruvians were a liberal crowd! Every possible type of sexual activity between humans (and animals) of both genders was immortalized in ceramic. Our guide started describing what we were looking at. ‘Here we have the man pleasuring the woman with his mouth and here we have two animals mating’. If we were young enough to have blushed we probably would have. She reminded me of my sex education teacher at Catholic high school. At this stage (age 13) we were all girls, separated from the boys by annexes. Our teacher was a doctor and she taught us about the birds and bees in a very anatomical and brusque manner. I remember thinking that I may as well become a nun because I certainly wasn’t going to be doing anything like that with a boy! A few years later, it all seemed much more feasible.

I was sneaking glances at our New Yorker friend to see what he was focused on and Teddy, too. I suspect my husband was thinking, ‘don’t give her ideas’. It struck me that the museum and its artifacts were not a guide to pleasure, such as the Kama Sutra, but more of a ceramic documentary of sexual behavior between humans and animals. The artists were depicting what they observed. In one exhibit, the people were disfigured and our guide explained, ‘these are humans dying of sexual diseases’. Ah well, I guess you never could have your cake and eat it, too. In case you are wondering, it did give me ideas. Lima was a fun destination!

Missionary animals?

Missionary animals?

Click on this link to see some other erotic ceramics but open with discretion. HUACO EROTIC CERAMICS

Sexuality through the ages

He had a eight pack...

He had a six pack…

The title suggests that I am delivering a historical thesis but I am really talking about sexuality through my ages. In the previous post I referred to a nightclub I frequented. The owner was a paper millionaire at least and took a fancy to me. I was 19 and although I no longer looked innocent, I was very obviously an ingénue. He was ANCIENT – probably about 30 but very handsome and likely married. He told me he was separated from his wife and I chose to believe him because I was intrigued by his interest in me. Girls were lining up to take advantage of this rich, handsome man and my disinterest was probably like catnip. I guess we got to first base and he took me to dinner one night. The truth is that I was slightly repulsed and scared by the age difference even though he was a looker. I blew him off, stopped going nightclubbing with the ‘girlfriend’ and then got back into a serious relationship with the steady boyfriend.

Just before that I met a very handsome man who was a catch at the nightclub. We had some fun in his car when he took me home but I was secretly frightened that he was too good-looking for me and unceremoniously dumped him when the regular boyfriend reappeared after a short break-up (like a fungus). I was perplexed by how upset the handsome man was and then just moved on. About a year later, I met an old college friend who coincidentally consoled the very handsome man at the pajama party that I declined to go to and they were now living together. To my surprise, he had talked endlessly about this charismatic American/Spanish/Irish girl that he had met and my name was so unusual that she knew who I was. I felt guilty on a number of levels – that I had used my fairy glamour on him for my own selfish purpose, that her relationship with the love of her life was sullied by his brief encounter with Khaleesi and that I had made a terrible mistake. I really wanted to marry or be with a very, very well qualified guy and he wasn’t it. I joke with my husband, who has a B.Sc. and Masters, that he is the least smart date I have ever been serious about and it is mostly true.

When I was 19 years old (all this was happening that year) I was at the height of my sexual allure. I was asked on dates at bus-stops, male college friends would walk 4 extra miles to carry my college books to my bus station and generally men fell at my feet. It was intoxicating and I took full advantage of it. By the time I was 20, my steady boyfriend had dumped me because of my numerous infidelities and, as his mother had indicated, I was not the right girl for him. I moved on swiftly to the international student association, dating my way through the world, breaking hearts as I went. When I met my current husband at age 21, I had been dating two handsome global students at the same time with their grudging permission (take it or leave it) and was setting off to the Edinburgh Festival with the first date of a life time. He looked a bit like Mick Jagger. My friend, who was a geologist, invited me to her 21st birthday party and I felt I had to attend so declined the Edinburgh date. I guess the rest is history.

I met Teddy, was astonished that a geologist could be funny, handsome and have an eight pack (Scottish Karate Team). We were engaged in 3 months and married within 11 months. For most of that time I didn’t see him as he was working overseas so it was a shot in the dark but my instinct was correct. I predated him then, and beat out some ferocious competition at the same party. Then I took him home with me, to meet my mother, and seduced him along the way. He was both shocked and delighted at this innocent looking kitty in heat but he did not protest…

So, I married at the age of 21 and discovered that I had both some medical sexual problems (frequent UTIs) and hormonal/fertility issues but not immediately. Like most young married couples we were at it like rabbits, trying out gymnastic positions and generally having lots of fun. Then over time, our sex life got less interesting and more painful for me. The turning point was realizing that we could not have children naturally and that I definitely had a mental illness. My husband is adopted and I could not bear to go through the adoption process only to be denied because of my poor mental health. Nonetheless, Teddy and Bunny adored each other and we moved through the decades with love always present but sexual desire waxing and waning.

More historical documents tomorrow…

Sexual Fluidity

Kerry with first older man...

Kerry with her first older man…

I was going to entitle this blog – sexuality is a wavy line – but then someone mentioned that fluidity is the new terminology for bisexuality. When I googled the term, I discovered it was more about the possibility of sexuality being malleable throughout life. In my personal experience, I was more conflicted about orientation, when I was a child and teenager, but quite certain now, at the age of 55. I am pretty sure that is a relief to my husband…

As I child, I lived in public housing in Glasgow in a predominately Irish Catholic neighborhood. I knew no other only children with single parents. Although sex was rarely talked about, the very large families with thin bedroom walls must have had a very good idea what their parents were doing. Their siblings also tried to gross them out with specifics which they, in turn, passed onto me. What! ‘My mum never did that’, thought I. In the summer months, it was very common to borrow a bedcover from the house and play tents over a washing line. This was also one of the few places you could have complete privacy. On various occasions, I would be in a tent with all girls or a mixture of boys and girls. I guess we ranged in age from 9 to 12, maybe? The dare was to take your underwear off and expose your girl or boy parts. Further dares involved some touching which would produce an interesting sensation, a precursor to real sexual desire, perhaps.

At this stage, I want to stress that there was no element of sexual abuse or molestation and the groups would be around the same age at the same time. It was natural curiosity. For someone, like me, who had rarely seen a boy’s parts (all female household), it was especially intriguing. One female friend was particularly interested in playing with me alone. That seemed innocent enough but we went a little further than was usual. On one occasion, I was sexually molested by an older boy at school and that was an entirely different situation. It was against my will and very frightening.

So, cut to my teenage years. I went to a Catholic high school – male and female students were separated from each other, in different annexes, until we turned 14. As soon as we entered that year, I was like a cat in heat. Zing! The sexual button switched on and I was fascinated by the boys in our class. I was very shy and believed I was unattractive. That was clearly untrue and I had one boyfriend after another. I was just like my slutty cats however (and I am only talking about first base here) and skipped from one to the other. The first object of my desire was a handsome lad and one of my girlfriends decided it would be fun to write on the chalkboard that
Kerry fancies Frank (that really was his name).

I blushed furiously, desperately wiping it off the board, and in my anxiety to stop her, banged her head into the wall and gave her a black eye!!! I don’t know who was more astonished, her or I. It backfired on the perpetrator, however, (you know who you are, Ms. K. 🙂 ) and the boy asked me out, to everyone else’s dismay. Then we went into English class and our teacher asked my friend, who sat next to me, what happened. She told him the truth and she got a row for telling lies. Of course innocent little Kerry wouldn’t do such a thing. Just don’t get in between me and a boy when I am in heat; nothing has changed. Slutty Miss Kerry…

Tune in for more tomorrow.

Topless Teaser…

A topless slutty Mrs. Stripe - you can even see her nipples!

A topless slutty Mrs. Stripe – you can even see her nipples!

This post is a little lead in or teaser into my theme next week – sexuality. Can you tell that I can’t get frisky until after my cataract operation? Teddy has been chasing me all around the house but he missed his opportunity…

Many years ago we both worked for a small oil service company in the north of Scotland. Sometimes small companies are so much fun to work for and give you endless humorous stories. When we moved to this city, I had to change jobs/careers again and finally got the opportunity to work as a fossil picker. Basically, you look at core samples (from oil wells) under a microscope and pull out micro-fossils for the real genius’s to look at. It’s a perfect job for someone with OCD to do. I was being trained at the same time as a very eager young man. He was bragging about how much he had impressed them at interview and just at that moment my husband walk past the window and waved. In response I said, “I slept with that guy to get the job”. The rest of the laboratory collapsed laughing and the young man was shocked. Well, it was the truth. Nepotism!

That’s not my funny story, though. After we had both moved on to other jobs we kept in touch with the base manager who passed on this tale. They had employed a very pretty young girl, about 18, with ample assets, shall we say? She looked good but wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box so was employed as a cleaner. The majority of staff in the various units was male and their jaws dropped open when they saw their new cleaner. She was already notorious in this provincial city because her mother had signed a waiver when she was 16 to allow her to model topless in one of our seedier newspapers. You think the ones in the US are bad but the Super, Soaraway, Sun was the worst daily tabloid. Men would just drool over someone’s breasts on the bus or train while giving you the eye.

So, to supplement her job as a cleaner she did evening jobs on the side. On one unforgettable occasion she had put up a handwritten poster on the company noticeboard to advertise her services. There were plenty of potential lads who were organizing grooms nights or stag nights as we call them in the UK.

EXOTIC DANCING – £10 a night
TOPPLES – £20 extra

I told you that she wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box but I bet she got plenty of work!