Last night, Meghan and I met up for a movie. We’ve been spending way too much time at my place lately, so we decided it was time to take it outside, so to speak. I should know by now that in my life, figures of speech aren’t JUST figures of speech. When we met up at the theater, I just thought she looked incredibly hot in that jacket and tank top, and immediately wanted to undress her. It was just a thought at first, but when she kissed me hello, I could see she was thinking the same, and the thought turned into desire. We lined up to get the tickets. There were lots of people, so I positioned her in front of me, and hugged her from behind, pushing myself against her butt. She laughed and pushed back against me. Torture, that’s what it was! I had half a mind to just say “screw this!” and take her right there. Her own breathing was a little faster and I could tell we were of one mind. That was one long line up. I think I have a knack for choosing the slowest teller, no matter where I go. Still, we toughed it out. I whispered a few things in her ear, the kind of things that I know (by now) make her melt. Instead of responding by voice (she was in front of me and couldn’t talk back without everybody hearing), she texted me back on her cell phone. Damn, that was explicit! I risked a discreet hip thrust against her bum. She pushed back without hesitation. I did it again. So did she. At that point, I knew where this was headed, and the movie was quickly becoming the last thing on my mind. We got our tickets and rushed away from the counter. As we made our way up the escalators, my hands were reaching for her crotch; she batted them away. “If you touch me there again, I swear I’m going to drop my pants right now and kiss you in front of everyone.” (She didn’t really use the word kiss, but I’m borrowing from How I Met Your Mother to keep it clean. 🙂 ) It was only a few minutes before we reached the theater. We took our seats completely in the back, top left. I was faintly aware that I shouldn’t be fumbling for her belt buckle, or her for my zipper, not in a public place. Still, I couldn’t really control myself, nor could she. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I began suspecting there might be some faerie magic at work here, but I was past being reasonable. I would think about that later… Just a little bit of friendly advice: most ushers and theater crew are very aware of why some couples select the back, top left seats in theaters, and apparently receive special training in handling cases like us. I don’t think, however, that the pimply teenager who came to politely ask us to stop and leave expected Meghan (who was “sitting” in my lap) to lean forward and go down on him. So to wrap this up: he came. She came. I came. Then we left. (Some of the crowd boo’ed us, a few cheered. My cheeks were flaring red, but not Meghan. She bowed down to the audience and left with her head held high.) Even after we left the theater, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. Same with her. We had sex three more times in different public places before reaching my flat . Then we had sex again, but I stopped counting. This smacks of faerie magic! Jaycee

Looks like Meghan played with fire a little, and she got a bit burned. Nothing big, but as you’ll see, there are things you just shouldn’t mess with. I’ve already mentioned some of the effects of faeweave and the fact that our shop sell items made of that very fabric. I sometimes keep some samples at home. Mostly, those are sent to me for quality control purposes. I usually throw them out, but not this time. In particular, there was this unmarked white thong, which was left half-hidden under a pile of miscellaneous junk on my desk, pretty out of view. Meghan found it on Sunday morning, while I was still sleeping, and left with it. Her plan was to wear it next time we’d meet, and give me a hard time while mock-grilling me about its origins. This morning, she decided on a whim that they looked pretty comfy, and would go well with these wicked tight black leather pants she hadn’t worn in a while. So, without giving it more thought, she slipped on the thongs, then squeezed herself into the pants, and went to work for a photo shoot (had a job in The Docks). You, dear readers, KNOW where this is headed, right? As it were, the thong was very pleasant to wear, but tended to ride up a little bit and bunch up on the front in a way that made her walk a little crooked. By noon, she was constantly looking for hiding spots to plunge her hands into her pants and rearrange her underwear (which always returned to its initial position within minutes). By the end of the afternoon, she was breathing heavily and had to come up with excuses of feeling a bit feverish. To make matters worse, the shoot was running late and they asked her to stay longer — up to 10:00 PM. I just got off the phone with her. She says she can’t think straight, right now, and she’s on her way to make me pay for “my crimes against feminity.” Guilty, your Honor. I just hope the punishment fits the crime. 🙂 Jaycee P.S.: now that you know what are the potential repercussions of faeweave, perhaps this is a good time to suggest you pay our Store a visit, and leave some underwear lying around next time some chick comes over.