A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Let me tell you

June 2, 2010
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Q) I just wanted to know, but if a werewolf dated a non, and are really close, are they allowed to tell their partner they’re a werewolf?

A) Hmmm. That is a tricky question.  Werewolves have been known to date nons (non werewolves ie humans etc) before. Including this werewolf herself.  Of course, that has never worked out for me (but more on that some other time).

Let me tell you, from my own personal experience I have never told any human I’ve dated, that I’m a werewolf. Ever.  In fact the only person I’ve told outside of pack who is a ‘non’ is my friend Aimee.  Who I’ve known for the last five years.

And even that was like a no-go zone.   In the Breukelen Pack, it’s a standing ground rule that you NOT tell nons what you are.  However, this rule has been broken more than once, by at least both myself and my sister that I can think of.

Even though the outcome both times, was eventually, good and recieved as to be expected. We both got reprimanded for our actions.  We broke a basic pack rule.  As decreed by the leading pack Alpha.  The Alpha (wether he’s your father or not) must enforce the law/rules he decrees.So punishment can be varied but must be dolled out.  At least, this is true of my pack.  We’ve both been reprimanded for it.

Ideally, we’d like to be able to tell them.

But it depends on how your Alpha rules on this decision.  If you were in a serious, long term, or close relationship, you might be able to present your case to the Alpha to be allowed to tell your partner that you’re a werewolf.

But first you’e got to have the guts to approach the Alpha on this dicey topic.

Then, you’ve got to have the guts to inform your partner, that you’re a werewolf.

Only the truly brave, enter into this heartfelt territory.

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Hope So

September 22, 2009
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Aimee and I were trying to work through my avoidance issues over some cocktails at Ava Penthouse.

Well not so much working on the avoidance issues as more about the how to solve the problem that that is my possible….what we call that? If I were a vampire he’d be my sire, werewolves don’t have such a term for turning a Non.

I’d say my legacy but that sounds fairly horrible considering, legacy should mean, good things and what I did, was a very bad thing. Potentially deadly thing.

I could have fucked this guys life up royally by biting him. Of course, since he’s already going around mugging people for their handbags and iPods, then I’m guessing his life might already be on the road to fucked-up ville, without my help. Still, there’s no need to make a fucked up situation worse for someone right?

Let’s just call him, Vargr, it’s old Norse word for outlaw which also roughly translates down to wolf. Which essentially as a criminal and a potential Lycan, my mugger/Vargr is.

So there we are, sitting up at the bar, wracking our brains on what I should do, trying to figure out this predicament I’ve got myself into, when who walks in, but Paris, Booker’s friend who I met at Hotel le Bleu a while ago.

I kind of had one of those moments where everything stops and you forgot what your saying or even, that your speaking. I forgot that we, I, had a problem that Aimee was kindly trying to help me solve. Because all I could focus on was Paris, as he strode over towards the bar.

Paris is rather magnificent. He has a presence about him.

Maybe it was the charcoal grey, corporate suit that had me so distracted by him. It looked good, very good. He filled it out well. Broad shoulders, tall, totally handsome with a slight tan to his skin. A bit of stubble across his jaw and beautiful midnight blue eyes that honed in on me. I felt a heat wave wash over me, from under his gaze.

Guess it might have been hard to miss me, since I was staring at him so hard. Possibly drooling too. I mean, I’m sure my mouth was open. Also, there was a high possibility that I was panting. Aimee nudged me out of my haze and I managed to blink back into reality in time to see he was really heading over to us, sitting at the bar. Maybe he was going to wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth, that he was the cause of.

He nodded his head at us and looked from me to Aimee. I swear my heart beat picked up like a crazy, little marching parade inside me.
“Evening ladies.”

Aimee smiled at him and nodded her head. I just kept smiliing.
He looked back down at me. I swear his eyes darkened, and there was a glint of mischief in them.

“Fancy running into you here.” I tried for cool, casual, cheeky, when actually what I felt like was a dork in front of him. He’s older than me.

“I could fancy that, a lot more often.” He murmured in a low voice with a smile, signaling the bar tender over. “Can I get you ladies another drink?” He ordered something for himself and looked back at me.
I should’ve said no for so many reasons. But I said yes. Mainly because Aimee was kicking me, ever so sneakily, in the ankle. On Purpose. She would’ve hobbled me if I’d said no.

He ordered us another cocktail.
“What brings you over this side of town?”

I had to speak. Coherently.
“Ugh, Aimee works over this way, so we thought we’d catch up.”

He nodded his head and kept looking at me. Aimee not so discreetly excused herself from us, while she supposedly went to the ladies room.

Paris is so hot.
Oh my god! What is wrong with me? Must be the suit.
Love a man in a suit. It’s classic, stylish, sexy and hot!

“It’s good to see you again.”

All I could do momentairy was nod my head in return. The man is so hot. Really hot on the eyes.
Then I remembered my manners.
“Thank you for the drink.”

“Your welcome.”

Just as I was about to open my mouth and try speaking to him on a social level, without being a complete dork, a group of guys walked in, talking and laughing loudly. We both looked over at the suits who signaled to Paris to join them.

“You’re colleagues?” I asked looking back at him.

He looked over my shoulder at Aimee re-appearing and back at me. He hesitated, like he didn’t want to go, but had to. Prior engagements, what a mood killer.

“I’ll see you around.” He said flashing me a brilliant smile, before heading over to the suits on the other side of the room.

I may have happened to check out his fine form in that suit as he walked away and let my eyes linger over his terrifically taunt derrière.
“Hope so.”


Lead you astray.

August 30, 2009
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Conall and me are going through some weird patch of I don’t know what at the moment .

So what do I do? I choose the easy way out and pretend like everything is normal. And I start going a little insane in the process. Building up my own version of events my very imaginative mind.
A bad thing to do.
Paranoia and Jealousy over the unknown.
Talk about a downfall if ever there was one.

I was at Hotel Le Bleu on saturday night, I actually went there with my girlfriends, needing to get my head trip away from all consuming mental thought of Conall.

I ran into my sister’s friend Booker and his friend Paris. Aimee’s eyes lit up instantly. I felt like patting her on the head and saying, down girl, down, put your tongue back in your mouth. But both males are good looking.

Booker’s got a girlfriend and Paris is quite beautiful with his dark hair and midnight blue eyes. Jeans that moulded to his sculpted butt, outline what one imagines was very hard, rock hard, shapely thighs.

I started…watching, I mean, really, watching, certain parts of his body. Like the way his mouth moved. The way his hands gestured. Aimee should have knocked sense into me. But she was probably too busy drooling over Paris also. Especially when I was staring at the way his tongue darted out and around his mouth. It was momentary but it was obvious I’m sure. Guess that’s what Booker laughed at as he gave me a look. That probably said “poor girl, he’s so out of your league.”

So anyway, this little thing I had with Paris. I mean, I was doing to Paris. Well you know…not doing but, imagining, and indulging. The looking but not touching, the talking to him but pretending I wasn’t flirting. The keeping a distance from him that was socially acceptable even when it looked like he was moving in slightly closer to me at times.

I believe this is what’s called stupidity, temptation, or danger or all of the above.

I mean, he was just being nice and talking to me for the first time. Had no idea what was going on in my one-track mind.

Most people say fantasizing is harmless. But when you’re in the wrong frame of mind to start with, I doubt that’s the case. So just as I’m thinking, I really need to calm my body down and possibly find a quiet place for some “me” time, who should turn up at the rooftop bar, but Conall Wakely.
Boyfriend of the hour.

Turns out he’d rung Janie and asked if she knew where I was cause he kept getting my voicemail. I’d decided to leave my mobile at home. Didn’t want to turn into a nightmare who calls her boyfriend when she’s drunk and says all manner of shit she shouldn’t.

He saw Paris and Booker first and spoke to them first, and then my mind kicked into overdrive. I started watching Conall and Paris talking together, and thinking boy-girl-boy. Girl-boy-boy. How hot would that be?

Paris is a werewolf too, from the Manhattan Maen pack. So then I start thinking, about this fact, three werewolves together. We’re all highly sexed, and we’re all highly capable of taking a lot of rough and tumble. I’m thinking sensations heightened threefold….Lunar week could wreck me if this were to be the case.

Ah fantasy, it seriously just sneaks up on you doesn’t it? Leads you astray and into areas you never thought to go.

I shook my head, wondering how I went from paranoid girl to sexual beast girl.

Told you things get topsy-turvey when there’re not normal before Lunar week starts up. Conflicting the two halves of myself, a bit like common sense and sensuality battling one another, want versus control. And then some.

Maybe the human side of me has a stronger need for love and affection than I’ve ever given it credit for. I focus so much on the werewolf and keeping all that is her at bay, sometimes it’s easy to forget there’s more to me than that.

I headed off to the ladies room, and that’s where Conall caught up with me. Pushed me into a stall, locked it behind us. I didn’t even hear him sneak up behind me. Didn’t sense him, because I wasn’t paying attention. So wrapt up in my own thoughts on things.

He shot me a cheeky grin and flitting glances, quickly up and down my body. He didn’t say a word. Because he was suddenly too busy lunging at me and sucking my earlobe before his lips made their way to my neck and around to the hollow of my collar bone.

I would’ve liked to moan.

But he put a hand across my mouth and pressed it down.

I had to be a good girl.

Okay maybe we were getting back on track again. Returning to normal for the wild mix of our relationship.

He dropped down before me and let his hand go from my mouth. Trusting me to keep my noises silent.

My head hit the stall wall a few times as I opened my mouth and refrained from noise. Do you know how much control is involved in silence when your body is raging with sensation?

A heatwave rose in my stomach. A fire that burned a path inside my gut, making me blood aflame with nothing but his name on my brain.

I think I started to sink, my knees literally started turning inward, but he pushed back against them. Holding me upright, letting me feel the strength of his hands on me. Keeping me standing.

Where he wanted me.
How he wanted me.

I don’t know how long we were there. I just know we were there and we were making up for some sort of lost time, and apology and that we are better than alright, now.


We go clubbing

July 30, 2009
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I told you it was on the first of what’s likely to be forever.

Hmmm.

Obviously there is a lot to talk about, mucho ground to cover.

Aimee want’s to be informed so she can understand where I’m coming from.

I am truly lucky that Aimee’s my friend and she chose to be understanding to get over her initial reaction of anger and hurt and realize there was more to it than the simple fact I’d been keeping my secret from her.

I did say that to her too.

She’s already asking me about Lunar week, the how, the why, the me and Conall sitch, can she meet him?

Can she join me at one of the wolf clubs?

Right.

As if.

No way I’d let her near a wolf club.

Why wouldn’t I let her near a club you ask? Simple.

It’s freak her the shit out.

Seriously, it’d freak most Non-’s out.  I don’t know what I was thinking the first time I invited her out. Clearly, I wasn’t. It’s not the smartest move, ever.

Hell, sometimes it can freak me out (depending on which club we end up in, they can be so very, very, different).  The clubs are our safe havens and we’re free to express and explore.  To enjoy and indulge.

It’s not that the clubs suddenly turn into sex clubs or the like. But they’re a lot more liberating for urban were-wolves than you’d suspect. It was an ingenious idea that got crafted a long time ago.  A way for urban were-wolves to deal with the moon heat, moon madness and lunar week.

All three things can individually affect us and are by their names alone, very different.

See, if you’re a country wolf, or you can get time out of your real life for a week, every month of the year, you can plan to go country and deal that way.  It’s easier for our country counterparts.  There’s open land to run around in, lush landscapes to roam and get lost in.  The country’s a very ideal place to be. A hell of a lot less chance of being seen, although by comparison, risk of getting hunted, can be higher.

So as the were-wolf population of generations past, grew and moved further into cities, matter’s had to be dealt with in a whole new light.

Hence, lunar week at the nightclubs.

The various wew-wolf “friendly” clubs set up around New York, make a killing, let me tell you.  Figuratively speaking. We spend all our spare time in these clubs because we can, because we need to, because it’s safe, it’s secluded and it beneficial. It helps us out. We’re highly sexed creatures.

Like I said before, there are rules that govern packs.

You can’t just go around shape shifting in public, in the open where someone can see you, for a few reasons, but the biggest one being, when we shift, we loose ourselves.

So you’d want to hope the wolf is in control when it comes too. That it’s been satisfied and sated accordingly.  You don’t want an upset angry were-wolf, with emotions of badass, transmorphing tenfold. It’s likely to lead to an attack on a human.

You can’t have one way out of control and out of their mind were-wolf, running around screwing stuff up for the rest of us.

Especially when the rest of us have worked so hard to fit in, have a normal a life as possible.

So we go clubbing.  Burn up the energy, sate the mind, and fill the senses. It helps with the shifting that we have to face as the moon get’s fuller each night of the lunar week.


Because it’s tribal

July 29, 2009
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Lunar week is approaching, so I’ve spoken to Aimee and told her why I do my little routine, so she understands something about me.

That is to say I avoid her and my non friends and I go native, with just the Breukelen. We hit the clubs because it’s tribal and gives us a sense of freedom if we’re amongst our own.

We’re asked to deal with this thing put upon us, from birth and this is how we deal.

It’s evolved into us all creating this amazing atmosphere in the clubs for a week. It’s not always about sex, but it is about feeling.  A communal sense of who we are and it’s something, let me tell you, its hot, sweaty, sticky and sweet and rough.

It’s soaking and contagious and wanting and filled with desire.

It’s amazing, to say the least.

Get a room full of were-wolves in heat and you can’t help but be affected!  It’s sexy, sensual and essential to the core of what you need, want and lust for.

Try to imagine that when Lunar weeks happen, the moon affects everything in our physical, psychological make up. EVERYTHING.

Feelings are doubled amped up. Sensations are quadrupled. Especially at night when we’re affected the most.

Think of it like this, if you can. You’re horny, you’re feeling desperate for release. Now imagine that feeling maxed out for a good twelve hours or more but you have to go to your job and do whatever it is you do in real life.

In the day time,  we’re still affected, imagine you have to concentrate on not letting waves of pleasure shake you. Imagine you have to pretend, everything is fine and normal, because life goes on around you and expects you to behave!

But most of us have been taught ways to cope.

To concentrate on keeping everything, under control. But at night, it’s a different story. The night is ours  and we embrace it.

We play in it’s moonlight and we cave in to whatever we crave before the animal inside us, tears its way out of our skin, no longer content to sit back and let the human it wears, drive us.

Utter release, true freedom, with a howl.


Welcome to my life

July 29, 2009
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You know it gets tricky when you’re censored on certain bits of information and you can only speak about half of the stuff you’d really like to explain.

 

Welcome to my life.

Life in the Breukelen Pack. Pack’s have structure, guidance, rules to govern behavior by.  And of course with those processes in place, there is punishment for disobedience and disregard of them.

In New York City, it’s not a complete secret, just not publicly, widely acknowledged in the open, that there are five wolf packs. I come from the Breukelen, in Brooklyn, the third biggest of the five.  

In having Aimee find out….about…me, us, them…all of it, it means I need to explain some things to her. It means she has questions and curiosities that she wants to know about and possibly a thing or two, that she needs to know about the whole sitch.

So what do I tell her? After all, I want to be honest, but I don’t want to freak her out any further.

After all, my first answer to her reaction upon finding out that I can dislocate my jaw and grow fur, was not a warm and fuzzy one. I said it was about self preservation and I wasn’t lying.  All wolves, when pushed or threatened immediately have a response to defend ourselves, to go on the attack rather than be attacked. It’s highly instinctual and very much a part of being a werewolf. When you have to carry a secret that your life depends on in some way, you will do what you must to be able to live your life, as freely as possible.

Of course, what you consider freedom, might vary to other opinions. Hence why there are “Lone Wolves”.

What’s a lone wolf?

Okay, that one I can answer.

Pretty much what it sounds like, a single wolf without a pack. Who does not live in a pack structured environment and therefore has no regard for rules or regulations. They do as they please, when they please, however they please.  Lone wolves can very much upset the carefully crafted balance of a pack structure. It’s why they’re not encouraged. Why they’re looked down upon by were-wolves. 

So what am I allowed to tell her about this new world she’s only just opened her eyes to?

Only certain bits, the bits that my Alpha and father has approved for me to speak of.  So I have to start my next conversation piece with Aimee saying, please understand I don’t want to be dishonest with you, but I can’t tell you everything there is to know about my life. I just can’t.

Yeah, that’ll go down well, right.  Isn’t that as bad as lying? Like why bother saying anything if she’s still not going to have enough information to satisfy things between us?

Well, I guess it comes back to, this isn’t really about her, it’s about me.

Self preservation.

So does knowing or not knowing all this stuff about me, affect where I stand in her life?

Why would it?

Yes, I have questions of my own too.  Ah, let the head tripping commence.

Like I said, welcome to my life.


Shorty

July 28, 2009
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Turns out, while I’ve been avoiding having this talk with her, that Aimee’s curiosity has gotten the better of her.

She went all detective on me and she started asking around, making enquiries.

It was simple really, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.

She just started off where we left off. She started with The Reflex. She just asked a few questions about that night. Staff there just told her what they tell everyone who enquires. For a certain week of the month, lunar week, the club has a strict membership only policy. That’s they’re standard line. I’ve heard it before.

What they wouldn’t have told her is the membership is designed for wolves to be able to come out and play, and keep everything under control without hurting anyone.  Of course there are a select few humans allowed around, but they have to be guests vouched for by at least two wolves. They become the wolves responsibility in the club.

All she had to hear was the word “Lunar” and she made the connection easily enough.

“So you’re a Lycan?” She asked me outright, without blinking or taking her eyes off my face.

My less than stellar response “Uh, we just call ourselves were-wolf’s.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

How do I answer that one? It’s a damn good question.

“Self preservation.” I said the words before I even realized I said it.

“You mean, you didn’t trust me enough, to tell me this important thing about you.” Aimee fired back angrily.

No.

“We’ve been friends for five years . Five years! I would have thought you’d have figured out, I could be trusted. Have I ever done anything for you to not trust me?”

No.

“To think I would ever deliberately hurt you?”

No.

“Do you find such little value in our friendship that you can’t share this with me, when I tell you everything about my life?”

No.

“Where you ever going to tell me?”

No.

Suddenly I’m realizing something I didn’t think of before, this really isn’t about Breukelen Girl werewolf, freak.  It’s about her and who I am, to her.  Does this rock the foundations of some image of me she’s built up in her head? I think it does.  We sat in awkward silence for a good three minutes. Which stretched out, felt like forever in a room of tension. Till I broke it.

“If the situation were reversed what would you have done?”

Her face went pink.  Her mouth tightened.

Yeah, I thought the same.

“I’m hurt that you kept this from me.”

“Why? It’s not like I go around telling everyone I’m friends with, hey once a month I turn into a howling fur ball because I have no say in the matter. So don’t hunt down any wild stray dogs, it might be me in disguise.

“That’s so not the point.”

“Then what is?” I yelled at her, not realizing I’d raised my voice until she kind of looked at me with surprise. I’ve never been the loose your temper type of person.  But if you’re going to be under attack for being who you are, you may as well get to the heart of the problem and roaring at someone kind of gets there faster.

“Does this change who I am?”

No!

“Strawberry ice-cream with real strawberries is still my favorite, I still enjoy listening to punk-rock music, watching bad reality TV shows, and I’m still sleeping with Conall, I still have no car, I still live at home with my parents, and I’m still only five foot eight inches tall.”

She cranked an eyebrow up at me.

Just the one.

“So it doesn’t give you any special powers to speak of?”

“Well  there are benefits. Heightened hearing, night vision, accurate sense of smell, tracking abilities, speed, accelerated healing for health problems.  Fast metabolism, Higher immunity to most health problems…it varies from wolf to wolf, depending on whether you’re a beta or an Alpha, pack lines your come from, that kind of thing… same as with human races, really…”

“But you’re still only five foot eight?”

I stared at her. Hard.

“That’s what you got out of all that?”

She was starting to smile.

I let out a heavy breath and felt some tension leave my body. Shook my head as I tried to hide a laugh.  I was holding onto reservation about feeling like things were going to be good between us.

“Say it. Say the thing.”

“What?”

She was smirking at me. Totally diffusing my try hard build up of defensive anger.

Aimee’s five foot nine and there’s this thing she always says to rile me up, when we’re comparing body issues and the like.

“Okay, being tall is everything.”

Big smug smile at me.

“Are we good here? Considering your height challenging statement’s authority on matters of everything?” I asked.

“Yeah, Shorty, we’re  good.”


My version of being tough

July 27, 2009
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You know there were a few things going through my mind when I was rocking up to Aimee’s place to talk to her.

The look on the Alpha’s face when I told him she knew because she had seen me, after a shift, yet I don’t know if she saw me shift.

Sayings, about how to pep myself up, get some false courage.

But mostly I was thinking “here we go again.” this is spring break 1997 all over again. Wait for the disgust, the revulsion.  Whatever you do, don’t break the hell down.

No tears in front of her, NO MATTER WHAT!

In fact, if she starts going on about monsters, than give her a god damn monster to be frightened of! – my version of being tough.

Better than crying, surely?

Turns out I didn’t really have to worry about any of that stuff after all.

I didn’t even get to into my well rehearsed prepared speech for her.

Aimee did it for me.

I’m still in a bit of shock.


Rock Hard Place

July 26, 2009
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There are hard talks you have to have sometimes in life.

Like “Where did I come from?”

“We have to let you go”

“Why does she have two daddies and no mummy?”,

“You have to admit you have a problem first”

and “There’s something I need to tell you.”

 My talk to Aimee falls in-between Where did I come from and there’s something I need to tell you.

 Rock, hard place, jam me in it.

 So I’ve been thinking about what to say, how to say it to her:

“You know the saying, I’d rather go naked than wear fur, well for me..” – no, shouldn’t try to make a joke of it. After all, she’s probably freaked out enough as it is.

 “You know that song, were-wolves of …no, how about Hungry like the wolf?” – See above comments and the word WRONG.

 “Aimee, once a month..” – No, already sounding incredibly wrong

 “Aimee, I’ve always been different to others,” – Stupid.

 “Aimee, I never meant to hold out on you and not tell you,”- No, admits far to much guilt in being a deceiving friend.  Try not to point the obvious flaws for her to get angry about out to her.

 “Why don’t you  ask me something first?” – total cop out. Whimp!

 “Aimee, there are some things is this word, you just can’t control.”- too defensive.

 “Aimee, in life, there are some things we just don’t understand.”- uh, no!

 “Aimee, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner..” – guilty, guilty, guilty.

  “Aimee, there’s something you need to know about me,” – well duh, that’s obvious.

 “Aimee, I’m a…”-

blurting things out, shock to the system but it’s honest.

 Could work.

 I just need to centre myself, get some steel in my spine, take some deep breaths,

and get it over with already.


Kissing Conall Wakely

July 24, 2009
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Kissing Conall Wakely on my front porch, the other evening, did not end there.

I thought boys were the ones who weren’t supposed to be able to control their

Lust, desire, hormones, all of the above.

We made out on the front porch for quite some time.

And it was hot, oh yeah, it was hot.

My bag dropped to the ground,

House keys followed.

I forgot that I was supposed to be contacting Aimee to arrange a meet up.

Yeah, I pretty much just gave in to Conall Wakely’s hotness.

Then I felt how turned on he was getting.

Which of course, means I got turned on.

I mean, how could I not?

It was exciting to realize he was being restrained, was trying to control himself around me.

That he wanted to do far more than kiss.

See Conall’s not much for the talking when it comes to well, serious stuff.

Sex he’s brilliant at.

Foreplay, no problem.

Fighting people, great.

People skills, he’s okay at but actually talking about feelings, being openly honest about them, to someone like me. Not so much.

He comes from an all male household with just his father, and him and his older brother, Gabe.

So when I try to talk to Conall about stuff, like what I feel about what happened at The Reflex with that girl and him, he goes for the physical play.

The problem is, I need to learn to not letting him get to the physical play with me, because then I just kind of can’t think. I start responding and enjoying him, way too much.

Hmm, Conall Wakely.

It’s like pheromone addiction or something when I’m around him.

I got to snap out of my lust haze and he has got to learn to talk to me.


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