So I’m really glad that this item came across my screen this morning. Here’s a quote from an article in which he responds to questions about her nude scenes in True Blood. (This is most of the article, so you probably don’t need to click on the link.)

Former Hutt Valley child star Anna Paquin says she has no regrets when it comes to baring all on the television series True Blood.

The 27-year-old told US pop culture magazine Nylon that nude sex scenes are one way she brings a dose of reality to the vampire drama.

“I’m sorry, maybe there are women who keep their bras on while they have sex,” Paquin told the magazine: “I don’t happen to be one of them.”

The New Zealand actress – who was 11 when she won an Oscar in 1993, as Best Supporting Actress for her performance in The Piano – said she didn’t understand why some find nudity a cause for concern.

“I don’t think a naked body is particularly shocking or interesting,” Paquin said.

“It’s not the culture I was raised in. I was not brought up in the United States. I don’t share the (attitude) that you can have graphic violence, but God forbid you see someone’s nipples.”

I can’t say it any better than that.

I do not mean this in a negative way, though if you are reading this magazine I understand why you might take it that way. Most popular music has a sexual component. There is a continuum. It looks like this.

Penis ——————-||——————-Vagina

Prince is on the left, right below penis. (The P in Prince actually stands for penis.) I saw him at Madison Square Garden once. He spent two hours teasing the audience with the opening piano bars of Darling Nikki before actually playing it: one man, 20,000 people, two hours of foreplay and the world’s largest simultaneous orgasm.

On the right, just below vagina, is Cat Power. The kitty grown into a pussy, her voice slinky and dark, a life lived in alleys and sex with strays.

What’s that space in the center you may ask? That’s the space carved out by U2.

U2 strives for a kind of holy eros. It’s a, I-look-good-and-god-is-in-the-house-and-ain’t-that-grand kind of thing. But you don’t really want to get it on to U2. Ever try to have sex to “Pride”? Or “Sunday, Bloody Sunday”? It feels blasphemous.

Phish resides on another plane all together. I would liken it to this model.

~~Phish~~

Prince’s Penis————| U2 |————-Cat Power’s Vagina

Phish, those shaggy boys from Vermont, are not testosterone in song. They are not the tear-stained tunes of a woman opening her heart. Nor are they attempting to be rock and roll evangelicals.

The members of Phish do not try on new personas with every tour. 20 years later Trey Anastasio is still sporting a denim button down shirt and a bowl cut and John Fishman is still wearing a dress.

Phish, as “Almost Famous” as this may sound, love music. And it is that word love that has them floating above the pop-sex continuum.

Between any act and their audience there is a relationship. And when it comes to musical acts we almost always just dating.

Most acts create a kind of aural lust. You first hear their song and lust for it. You want to hear the music over and over again. It’s like the sex is great. But then you grow sated. You want something more. The second album comes out and it’s just more of the same. There’s nothing more there. Kind of like when you realize that girl you met last month unloaded every interesting thought she had on that very first night.

With the death of the aural lust we break up with the band. You occasionally listen to their album out of nostalgia, but you move on.

This is not the pattern with Phish. Phish fans are committed to a long-term relationship with their band. For years the band and the fans traveled together, getting to know one another intimately. Phish never seemed to run out of things to say and the audience never tired of listening. Even when the band played an old song they played it in a new way reigniting the love.

This relationship isn’t about the short-term fling of sex but rather about the long-term gain of a loving relationship. The audience communes through the band, they love the band for being the band.

Phish did not utter a single word to the audience the other night. There was no crowd banter, no foreplay mediated by a microphone. Many of their songs lack words except for a phrase or two. In one song they simply repeat the name David Bowie. In another, Divided Sky the wind blows high.

My sister-in-law Katja believes these songs are as zen koans. The band is not trying to say anything but rather put you in a state to simply hear the music and stop all that thinking. And at the end of each set as they bowed deeply and smiled wide, it was easy to see Katja’s point. They were being themselves, no persona, no gamesmanship, no working it.

Phish loves the music they create. Their audience loves the music. And they love Phish for the music. The fans smile at one another and hug and do that kind of silly bouncy sort-of-dance-thing, which is all you can really do once a band has reached the thirty-fifth minute of a jam. (Of course you can always tell the people on drugs because they’re the only ones still dancing at that point.)

Katja has had a profound and loving relationship with Phish for years. She loves the way the communal love of the band brings the whole crowd into harmony. As a wise man once said, a mark of our social evolution is how many people can we bring together and still feel safe? At a Phish show that’s a lot of people.

Yes, there are lots of hippies and white people with dreadlocks and skirts with bells on them and the post-show parking lot scene of veggie burritos and crystals for sale is enough to turn anyone into a Republican.

But the experience of transcending the simple sexual relationship to come to a place where you can catch a glimpse of the world in harmony because of the music of Phish is quite something.

It’s inspired Katja to make a pair of pants for Trey. So Trey, if you see this, please send your measurements to me. Katja has a great vision. It came to her while dancing at Shoreline while not trying to figure out the meaning behind David Bowie.

Q: Partner is on antidepressants. Whilst turned on, she can’t now come w/ oral sex. Is this normal? Ways to overcome? Use vibe with sex at mo.

While I don’t like the word “normal” much (there’s such a range of things that are “normal” — or average, common, healthy, etc. — that the word sometimes gets in the way of answering a question), in your partner’s case I can say yes, it’s pretty normal for antidepressants to have a problematic effect on orgasm. This is one of the common side effects of the SSRI class of meds in particular. You’ve already discovered one useful work-around: add stronger stimulation. The vibrator can help during partner sex as well as solo. And without involving her physician, you can try sex at different times of the day/evening to see whether her med schedule and energy level results in one time of day when arousal and orgasm are more easily achieved.

Otherwise, she should ask her doctor about “drug holidays” and possible other medications that she could substitute for whatever she’s currently taking. A drug holiday works by stopping the meds for a day or so, letting the chemical levels go down a bit, and then taking advantage of this for a libido-fest. This is more successful for some people than others, and some drugs lend themselves more to this strategy (some have such long half-lives that you can barely get a different response because you have to wait too long for the side effects to wane). While various antidepressant drugs affect different people in varying ways, Wellbutrin is one that has a better-than-average reputation for maintaining libido, so perhaps her physician will OK her to try that. Please note, though, that she shouldn’t change meds, stop taking them, or even do a drug holiday without checking with her doctor. These chemicals tend to have pretty hellacious withdrawal symptoms. Next to that level of emotional and physical disruption, keeping a vibrator by the bed seems like an easy fix indeed.

Best of luck to you both!

–CQ

Jasper James is making waves. She’s quickly becoming the next gender-bending pop superstar, playing with the likes of Peaches and having her songs up on sheenabeaston.com. Jasper stands apart from the rest in more ways than one… but it’s one way in particular that spurred me to point her out to all you readers of Good Vibrations Magazine: Jasper sings about her sex toys!

Her song “Vibrator” is an ode to her sex toys — which as she sings “fill my every wish.” The lyrics celebrate sex and orgasms, and she’s not too shy to sing it to the mountains:

Plastic, Chrome or Silicone… You always want me to come.
Jade, glass… just shove it up my ass.
A nice pretty pearl necklace.
- from “Vibrator”

Vibrators and Dildos and Anal Toys, oh my! Vibrator is available on iTunes. It doesn’t take much for me to wonder what it’d sound like with one of those OhMiBod iPod musical vibrators. Add that to the playlist, huh.

Having opened for Debbie Harry, and with her song “This House” as part of the sexy soundtrack of John Cameron Mitchell’s film Shortbus, Jasper is a busy artist rocking underground hot-spots in New York and London. Lucky for us, Jasper wasn’t too busy to share with me and all of you about her love of sex toys and her music.

Jiz Lee: Many musicians sing about sex or put their sexuality out there as a means to sell their music, but it’s not often that a singer devotes a song (or entire album) to their sex toy! How do you relate your sexuality to your music? Are there any background stories to your decision to record a song about your vibrator?

Jasper James: Ironically enough, when I began conceptualizing this album I was celibate. I’m a Scorpio, so I was in the space of wanting to understand the power of sex and sexuality — not only a physical but in also a spiritual sense. At the time I was living in San Francisco on Haight Street with all the hippies. On my way home one day, I came across a tarot reader. I figured “Why not?” His parting words were “Pan needs to be your patron saint.” I took his words to heart, went home, masturbated the hell out of my bullet and the song “Vibrator” was formed. From there sex became fun. Exploring the humor and mystery became essential.

I began to experiment with sexuality and gender. In our culture, “boxes” and stereotypes are very important to many people. It started to become very clear that I didn’t fit into any “Box” or category sexually at all, and basically began to toy with my reality that I could do anything I want.

If I want to be a gay boy who’s into leather play and wants to fuck a bio gay boy silly, that’s exactly what I was going to do.

It was that simple. I hold true to my word. My life is an experiment and “Vibrator” is just another extension of me so, it was an experiment as well.

Jiz: In “Vibrator”, you mention chrome and silicone toys. What are your favorite?

Jasper: Aww man, Gotta love the wand…  it just sends you into outer space! Let’s just say, there are a lot of new toys that I would love to try… does Good Vibrations need a tester??

Jiz: Haha, maybe GV could work something out!

Okay, so you’ve been called the “homo love-child of Beck & Mobi, if they were Black, broke, and hungry” and also the “love-child of funk-soul legend James Brown and sexed-up electronic glam rocker Peaches.” Um, how many love-parents do you have?… LOL! Or more specifically, who are your musical influences?

Jasper: I’m into anything that makes me feel! With Michael Jackson’s passing, I realized that he had a HUGE effect on me as a musician and as a person. You see that level of talent like once every 4 or 5 decades. No one did it better, and now he’s gone. So now I see a great opportunity for all performers everywhere to step it up, I believe it’s what he would want us to do: be our greatest and fullest potential. It goes without saying that Grace Jones is also a very important influence as well, she is truly fierce beyond words… something other worldly.

Jiz: You’re putting on a fundraiser to get to Malawi. Can you tell us more about that, and where we can find out more about you and your music?

Jasper: My newest song ROCKET was actually just posted to sheenabeaston.com and is available for free download there. Feel free to check out my facebook for more about Malawi and our fundraisers and of course, if you want to know more about me go to jasperjamesmusic.blogspot.com.

Thank you Jasper and Good Vibrations for keeping the beat!

What’s wrong with loving a product for its design? That’s really why Apple fanatics love all things “i.” And that’s why we lust after sex toys from Jimmyjane, the Potrero Hill pleasure purveyors whose vibes, games, and accessories would look as natural in a museum gift shop as they would in your minimalist, modern bedroom. The Form 6 vibrator looks like a cross between a stylized pen and a high-end electric toothbrush, while the Little Chromas model has the sleek grace of a bullet, or a small cigar (we refuse to make that joke). And Jimmyjane’s Usual Suspects line is nothing short of inspired — celebrating both form and function by interpreting classic toys, in flawless white. Yes, the company does seem to cater to Audi drivers and iPhone users — collaborating on expensive special editions with well-known designers and bragging about appearances on cable TV shows. But we can’t argue with the nontoxic materials and the unprecedented one-year warranty. And the fact that they just look so cool.

BEST QUEER PORN

The problem with mainstream porn is that most of it is made in the San Fernando Valley by brainless douche bags and lazy ex-cheerleaders looking for a quick buck. But this is San Francisco. This is the art capital of the world, the home of the free thinker, the land of the awesome. Can’t we get some porn made for us? Yes, we can! Yes, we can! If you’re as sick of Barbie Doll smut as we are, then you should know about local filmmaker-producer-writer-artist Courtney Trouble. Trouble is the founder of a queer porn site called Nofauxxx.com (”queer” as in not just homo, but alternative as well). She’s the final word when it comes to smut with attitude, character, and soul. Not only is No Fauxxx the oldest running queer porn site on the Internet, it’s also the only spot that mixes alt, gay, lesbian, straight, trans, kink, and BBW content. It’s sexy, artsy, entertaining, all-inclusive, and totally DIY. In a word: ours.

(Courtney’s latest projects include Roulette, and the upcoming Nostalgia and Speakeasy, films coming up down the line with Reel Queer Productions and Good Releasing.)

BEST CONTEST FOR WANKERS

The Masturbate-a-thon is an annual pledge drive for the Center for Sex and Culture (who also one the Readers’ Poll for “Best Sex Education Resource”) during which people gang up in a hot and sweaty room to watch each other jerk off for an entire day. Sounds like fun, right? But what if you’re not an exhibitionist? No worries. The whole show (held in May, which is Masturbation Month) is broadcast live on the Internet so that shy people can join in too. Categories include “Most Money Raised,” “Most Orgasms,” and “Longest Squirt,” and the winners in each division receive sexy prizes from Good Vibrations (and perhaps a lifetime of wishing Google and YouTube were never invented). Score! Exhibitionists, porn addicts, and the rest of us are encouraged to ogle, vote, and even participate alongside certified wank-masters such as Dr. Carol Queen, Fellatio Brown, and Masanobu Sato, a Japanese toymaker who holds the world record for “Longest Time Spent Masturbating” (to be fair, it should be noted that his company, Tenga, makes masturbation cups for men). The time to beat next year is nine hours and 58 minutes, so fire up Fleshbot.com now and start practicing. You can be sure that’s what Masanobu is doing.

BEST XXX XX IN THE CASTRO

Remember when the Castro was just a big boys’ club? That’s changed somewhat, thanks in no small part to Femina Potens, the nonprofit art gallery dedicated to women, transgendered folk, kink, and the sex worker community that anchors the corner of Market and Sanchez. Cofounded by renaissance porn star and queer BDSM queen Madison Young, the cozy spot has been hosting exhibits, workshops, spoken word performances, film screenings, and readings by queer literary and artistic legends like Michelle Tea, Annie Sprinkle, and Inga Muscio since 2001 — and recently has added health and wellness programming into the mix. With showcases tackling topics from body image to safer sex, suicide prevention, and breast cancer awareness, there’s no question that what Femina Potens does is important. But we think art shows about bondage and performances about breasts are also just damn sexy. Plus, it’s about time the Castro got a little more double-X (chromosome) action.

(Check out Madison Young’s Videos at Good Vibrations)

We also noticed some friends, such as “Best Local Writer” Stephen Elliott, “Best Couples Counselor” Dossie Easton, and “Best Sex Writer” Violet Blue (tinynibbles.com). And the icing on the cake, Good Vibrations won Best of the Bay Readers’ Poll for Best Place to Buy Sex Toys. Thank you to all our customers, staff, and supporters who make the San Francisco Bay Area such a sex-positive place to live and play!

At the moment, the thing that’s bugging me is the idea that BDSM is unnatural. Or for that matter, that homosexuality, oral sex, anal sex, group sex, sex toys, masturbation, or anything else you can name is “unnatural.” There are actually two aspects of this that I dislike, although they both come back to sex-negativity.

First, there’s this idea that natural = good. We hear this a lot, and it’s a pretty compelling idea, given how many problems we face are the result of human activity. But as the sage Terry Pratchett points out, “living in trees and eating your dinner while it’s still wriggling is also natural.” If you want to have natural sex, you can’t use lubricants, sexy music, chocolate sauce, pillows, or for that matter, a bed. None of those things exist in nature so how can they be “natural”? There’s a consistent pattern of calling something unnatural simple because we don’t like and/or understand it. Have we really forgotten that homosexuality was called the “abominable and detestable crime against nature”?

Sexual diversity is, in fact natural. There’s a lot more diversity among people and among animals in general than most folks realize and most of it is, in fact, benign. In her amazing article Thinking Sex, Gayle Rubin points out that the lack of a concept of benign sexual diversity is deeply intertwined with sex-negativity. If you haven’t read the article, click on the link. It’s worth it.

Second, most of the time when people call some sort of sexual activity unnatural, they’re using the term to shame the folks who do it into complying with some expectation of what people “should” do. In my experience, the word “should” is usually used to control through shame. To try to control people’s sexualities through shame is to use the same tools that have reinforced erotophobia for centuries.

Now, I’m not arguing that everything that people do is ok and that there can’t be any limits. It’s just that I beleive that the limits that we use will work best when they’re based on compassion and awareness of sexual diversity, when they’re based on whether someone is doing harm to themselves or other people, and whether the authenticity and integrity of the people involved is respected. You can be as kinky as possible and still be within those boundaries, and you can have the sorts of sex that are usually considered “natural” and be outside those bounds.

That’s because I’m less interested in what people do and more interested in how they experience it. I refuse to label anyone’s experience for them. To me, that is one of the sources of abuse, no matter what the intentions behind it are.

Please note: I’m not suggesting that all feminists or all radical feminists fall into the trap of calling some sex “unnatural.” I also firmly believe that feminist perspectives have a lot to offer an exploration of sex-positivity. But that’ll have to wait for another post.

After three years of putting on this festival you never can tell what kinds of films people are going to send in and it’s always a treat to see just how creative these aspiring filmmakers can be in ten minutes or less. Without giving away too many spoilers, I can say that there are a few pretty amazing firsts this year including our first ever animated selection and one fantastic bicycle you won’t want to miss. To find out the rest you need to join us for the party of the year at San Francisco’s historic Castro Theatre, this Thursday, Oct 30th!

And it wouldn’t be a Good Vibrations event if we weren’t ready to party. This year’s festival theme is the 1970s Sherman Oaks Porn Scene, so dust off that polyesther, put on your finest disco threads and hustle on over to our VIP Pre-Party, starting at 7pm on the Mezzanine of the Castro Theatre. For only $10 you can indulge with Dj Wrong? of The Magnificent 7 as he spins the funk, enjoy a glass of Roshambo wine or beer from the open bar, spin the “Wheel of Pleasure” for free prizes including special give-aways from our co-presenters Tantus Toys and Digital Playground films, and get your groove on with dancers from The Lusty Lady, San Francisco’s finest peep show.

Tickets to the show are only $10 and available in advance at all of Good Vibration’s retail locations. Tickets will also be available the night of the show at the Castro Theatre for $12, with entry to the VIP Pre-Party and open bar only $10 more! Tickets for the VIP Pre-Party are only available for purchase at the Castro Theatre the night of the show.

The VIP Pre-Party begins at 7PM and the screening starts at 8! So grab your sweetie and join us at the Castro Theatre, 429 Castro Street in San Francisco, this Thursday, Oct. 30th.

Whether you’re a film fan, a porn purveyor, or a true artist, there’ something for everyone at GV’s 3rd Annual Amateur Erotic Film Festival.

(via: @NikolHasler of MidWestTeenSexShow.com)

“Did I snore?” I ask.

“No honey. I can’t sleep…”

I touch her face.

“Did you have a good time at the party, tonight?’

She bites her lip and touches my cheek.

“Yes, my dear. Always with you.”

“We hardly spoke to each each other. So many guests.”

“I know,” she says in a faint, heavy whisper, “I missed you all night. Did you get my messages?”

“You mean the hand across my back by the punch bowl or on the balcony, the fingers grazing across my cock?”

“Both, lover. You were particularly sexy last night.”

We kiss. It’s a moist, soft kiss.

“As were you. That little black dress is now my favorite.”

“It’s a size too small. I almost fell out of the top. And no room for panties.”

“I noticed.”

“I guess you did, you rascal. Feeling my ass while you talked basketball. Someone could’ve seen that.”

“No. I held their interest. I was pretty glib on the topic of one on one.”

“One on one, huh?”

“My favorite game. Especially with you.”

She raises up, brightened.

“Let’s get back to the topic of no underwear. When did you decide to go commando?” She asks, raising her eyebrows.

“When I watched you get dressed. I figured why should you have all the fun?”

“Well, we are going to be quite the topic amongst our dry cleaners.”

I kiss her again.

“Oh well.”

I love her voice, the richness of tone, the relaxed huskiness. It’s like gentle fingers trilling along the surface of my desire. She raises her eyebrows, then bites her lip. I know now what this is about.

She lifts her side of the covers, presenting herself.

“Look, honey…”

Her body is radiant and disheveled. One breast spills from her nightgown, catches the light. The pink nipple tight and radiant, the other breast still adorned, jiggling at the briefest of movement. Her gown is gathered on her upper thighs, the ruffles of fabric illuminated like the greek sculptures that adorned the yard of our host. Creamy folds in moonlit reverence. She breathes heavy and rubs her thighs together. She knows I love this. She knows its effect. She looks down to see if, yes, it has sneaked out. I revel in the feel of silk along my lengthening intention. I move closer. She parts her legs. That makes a sound.

“It’s talking to you, baby, It missed you. We both missed you,” she says in a whisper, as she moves to me.

My lover is comfortable in size, generous curves. Her movements are my foreplay, even when she’s standing and walking across the floor. In jeans or slacks. That night, I was riveted watching her unrestricted hips gently sway beneath her dress.

But here, in bed, her movements are flammable. Combustible.

How hot she feels against me, against my prick. I ooze a slight precursor along her belly. She wraps my prick in the silk of her gown.

“I wanted to go home as soon as I got there,” she whispered, “you could’ve taken me in that garden.”

She kisses with a slight flick of her tongue.

“You could’ve taken me on the hood of our car.”

She bites my lip. She runs her tongue across my eyelids. My cock pulsates in her hand. My breathing deepens. I take in her scent.

“You mean pull your little black dress up? Run my hands inside your thighs? Dip my fingers into you?”

“Anytime you wanted.”

She kicks the covers off us both.

“Touch me there.”

She’s hot, moist and impatient with my pseudo-reticence. She pushes my fingers in. One finger. Then two. Three. Her essence drips from her pussy onto the bed.

“My God, honey,” I say in a whisper.

“I’m going to drown you, baby,” she says moving her hips to my manipulations.

Her nightgown has slipped off her shoulders. Her breasts heave and dance. The sight of her arousal is breathtaking. Her parfum de sex fills the room. I finger fuck her, then remove my pajama bottoms. They catch on my prick. She covers a chuckle with her hand.

“Having a bit of a time are we? Entangled in our own ardor?”

I laugh and naked, I move to her, repairing the brief distance between us with my body.

“Top, baby. I want top.”

She says it in such a low, lusty whisper, I feel it through my chest. She mounts reaching back for my prick, sliding onto it, mashing her breasts into my chest. I can feel the heat of her through her nipples, as she humps slowly, her cheek to mine.

“I love how we fit together, baby, don’t you,” she says in between gasps, “can you feel me squeezing you?”

“God, yes,” I reply, immersed in our compete embrace.

She gasps and lurches.

“I wanted you all night long. Your hand on my bare ass drove me crazy.”

She moves like a passionate tide above me, her breasts swinging, until she fills the room with gasps and shouts, wrapping her arms around my neck, clenching my, holding me deep as she comes.

My darling holds me, her fingers grip my shoulders. Her hair is in ringlets, her gown matted in sweat and satiation. She turns her knees out. Her feet rub the insides of my legs.

“You’re magnificent,” I say to her as I feel the last of my passion drain.

“I love making love to you darling,” she says, “but now…”

She rises from me and on her knees, removes the last of her dampened garment. I watch as the last of her gown is pushed from the bed, the bedclothes, off the mattress. The moonlight brightens as if the moon, wide-eyed, is watching in astonishment. She is naked on her knees, giving me a show. Running her hands through her hair and caressing her breasts. Her lovely brown tuft is matted with passion. I hungrily watch her undulate. She watches my cock, and as it bops and rises.

“There it is. There’s my hot fuck toy.” She moves to me and takes it to her lips. I shake with ecstasy as she plunges, cupping my balls with her hands. She works me to rigidity, then moves to her back, drawing her knees up slowly. A move that ignites me time and time again. I move between my lover’s legs, and run my shaft along her slit.

“Take me home, lover,” she says, “fuck me…”

I mount my goddess and plunge deep. She wraps her legs around my waist, and we move as one.

She urges me to the brightest light of passion. Sensing the horizon, she grabs my ass and shimmies hard, propelling herself into bliss.

The calm after our vigorous collision surrounds us. We sigh to each other, wearing silly grins. All around us, discarded linens and garments. Our breathing is one breath. The moon, sated, passes by our window. The room is dark.

“We must attend more parties, my love,” she says.

The ticking of the clock returns as the only sound. We sleep as the clock’s hands sweep to three-fifty one, a.m.

That was always when she woke up.

Images of the dream stayed with her as she showered. She could feel the trail of kisses he’d left on her neck and shoulders. As she dried herself, the roughness of the towel reminded her how soft his touch had been.
Only vestiges of the dream were with her as she walked through the doors of her office building – only to see Ryan in the lobby waiting to catch the next elevator. They’d never met but she’d seen him occasionally around the office. She liked the look of strength in his hands; his well-muscled body wasn’t hidden by the tailored business suit.
He looked up from his paper when she approached, giving her the full force of those amazing blue eyes. Did she see a trace of interest? Did he look at her just a bit longer than necessary before turning back to his paper? (”Don’t be an idiot,” she told herself. “It’s only a dream.”)
Later that afternoon Ryan knocked on her office door. “I thought you were the one from the elevator, but I wasn’t sure. Bob told me to get some numbers from you for the Sumner case I’m working on.” He stepped forward, holding out his hand. “I’m Ryan. Ryan Stokes.”
Katie Howard. I’ve seen you around, too, but didn’t know where you worked. Nice to meet you, Ryan.” (”Easy girl! All in the line of duty!”)
She went to her file cabinet to get Ryan the information he needed, glad she’d worn an outfit she knew looked good. The cut of her blouse flattered her, accentuating her fullness of her breasts without being too over the top. She really hoped he’d notice. The conversation drifted away from business after she briefed him on the numbers. They talked for a few minutes about nothing: the weather, sports (”Thank you Dad for being a football fan”), a new exhibit at the art museum. Katie was stunned – and thrilled – to hear him say, “I was invited to a fundraiser at the museum Friday night. It would be a great time to see the exhibit. Would you like to join me?”

The following Monday, Ryan smiled at her as he walked by her office – on his way to some meeting, no doubt. On his way back a while later he stopped and looked in. “Hey there. I really enjoyed our date Friday,” he said with a smile that made his blue eyes twinkle. “Glad to see you found all your clothes.”