So I just announced on twitter that I’ll be doing something for 40 days straight. I already want to quit and I haven’t even lasted a day yet. Don’t ask me why 40 came to mind, it just sounded like a nice number. We’ll see how it goes, but I’ll probably do 40 more after a little bit of a break. You all can feel free to guess what I might be doing for 40 days straight. Masturbating? Math? Mayhem? Abstinence? Aerobics? Anal? Had to throw some sexual things in there to keep your interest.

I’m not sure if this is the time or place to mention this, but … (I pretty much know it’s not the right time, but I lost track of my censor 4 hours ago when I should have been asleep. In its place is this now grouchy no filter bitch. My apologies. Before I go there though – Merry Christmas! How were your Holidays?)

My callers have spoiled me. I’ve been on line now for … a few weeks (I AM only 18, you know!) and in that time I’ve acquired some pretty special callers. Namely 2. Ok, 3. And those 3 callers have spoiled me rotten. They usually ask me how I am doing. They always introduce themselves to me, even though I know their voices by heart, they know my secret kinks and collect them in little journals under their pillows, eager to expose me should our relationship take a turn for the worst. I kid. But they do know my secrets. They always say hello – and most of the time say goodbye (some of us have an understanding, unspoken, that should they get cut off during the happy ending, they don’t need to add time to say goodbye. Come on, that would just be silly!). Some of my newer callers lately have found themselves on the other side of my block button. And I NEVER block. But if you happen to be reading this, and you can’t get through to your favorite teen anymore (and really, if you’re reading this, you haven’t been blocked. You know how that goes; the people that need to hear things don’t, and the ones who don’t need to hear all of this will call me, worried that I’m upset with them when they are the “3″ I spoke of earlier. Ok, it’s more like 20. 20 regulars), then more than likely you’ve done one of the following, or in many cases, a combination of 2-3 of these things:

1. Hung up on me after 2 minutes – leaving me to wonder, “Was it something I said?”
2. Called and demanded, quite rudely, that I moan for you, with no “lead up” or introduction. While I realize I work for a service, and you are a customer, you would never walk into a classy restaurant, seat yourself, pat your belly and order the waitperson to give you “some food” with out specifying what you’d like. Ok, maybe you might, but then you might also enjoy people spitting in your food, as I’m sure they would if you ever did something like that in a restaurant
3. Called and said nothing, or whispered so low I couldn’t understand a word you were saying

Now, so this post isn’t totally negative and bitchy, let me explain a few things that will make our calls pleasant for both of us, keeping you off my blocked list.

1. Introduce yourself. Contrary to popular belief, I can not see who is calling me. Your user name does not come up on the screen, so I really don’t know who you are, unless you call frequently – and even then, sometimes it takes me a minute to register who you are. I know. Unforgivable and ego-deflating. By introducing yourself to me, however, I usually can figure out what you like and immediately go into the role play, eliminating potentially awkward moments when you try to tell me how pink ruffled panties draped over your face while watching Happy Days turns you on. Or whatever.
2. Note I said usually. Sometimes I don’t remember callers from week to week. I get a lot of calls, and sometimes just hearing a name doesn’t register with me what kinds of calls we do together. If you’re a regular of mine, then I usually know you and your fantasies right away, but if you’re fairly new to me and we only speak sporadically, then please forgive me when I ask you what we talked about last time.
3. If you keep in mind a few favorite fantasies of mine, that would be going above and beyond the call of duty. But if you want a really great call with me, just mention a babysitter movie you’ve seen lately, or ask me if I’ve gone to confession. ESPECIALLY if you want me to moan or if you want me to be horny. Just hearing the phone ring doesn’t do it for me (I know, I know. So disappointing!). I don’t typically sit around and watch dirty movies and play with myself. When I do, you all are asleep. Trust me. (I just watched a really hot movie 30 minutes ago and none of you called and asked me if I was horny!)
4. I am well known for my realistic fantasies and role plays. So, please feel free to send me an email and let me know ahead of time what you’re looking for and if I’ll indulge you in the fantasy. Anything really does go. Most of the time. Even if there’s something that I won’t do, I will never make you feel horrible for suggesting it. Ask around (okay – you can’t ask…just read my feedback!) I’m pretty open minded and I have a few nasty things running amuck in my head, too. I will never judge you. There just might be some things I seriously can’t get excited about. I’ve only ran across ONE call in the past …um … 3 months I’ve been working as a phone sex operator (haha!) that I’ve had to decline. If you email me and call me to let me know to read the email before you call back, I’ll totally comp you that 1 minute it took to tell me to read my email.

I think that just about covers it.

I’m still not sleepy.

I hope this didn’t come across as bitchy/whiny/or complaining too much. I’ve just noticed myself getting a bit grumpy lately, and thought it might be wise for me to get this off of my 34B chest. Before things got ugly.
I’ll write a properly nice post later. I know you don’t believe me, since it’s been months since my last post. So, won’t you be surprised when there actually is another post and I’m more pleasant?

I’m up until I fall asleep. If you call and I see I’ve missed your call (there are ways to tell, you know. Niteflirt totally documents all my missed calls!), then I will comp you a few minutes for your trouble. I did something similar for a while last year as encouragement for you all to call. I realize it can be quite disappointing when your cock is in your hand and your favorite teen with braces isn’t picking up her damn phone. What a rude, insolent girl!

Talk soon my cuppy cake yum yum apples of my eye!

But I wanted to update everyone on the goings on of CeCe. I’m going to let you all in on a secret – but I am not looking for sympathy. Really. It’s just a heads up type of thing.

First week of classes kicked my ass. Turns out taking 5 classes (mostly literature) is pretty dang difficult. But REALLY fun. I mean REALLY fun. I’m having a wonderful time. Most of my classes are flowing into the other and I feel like I’m finally getting the whole college experience. There’s been several moments where I have been seriously ELATED to be learning. And I read some really incredible text – that was really difficult to read on a whole comprehension level, you know? And I aced my first quiz and could have written an A paper on everything I had read. I just “got” it. It all started to make sense. All the history and literature classes and PHILOSOPHY classes and Political Science classes – all those classes finally met at one point this semester and it’s like the planets all aligned. I don’t know if I’m making sense but it’s a great feeling to be able to use all this learnin’.

The result is – I’m still trying to figure out where study time goes and where play time goes. I figure it might be another week before I can put up a schedule. I know I haven’t had an up to date one since I was 18 (she says tongue in cheek).

This is what I’m going to do in the meantime: I’m going to log in when I get a chance. I don’t know how long I will last – but I will be sending you free minutes if I miss a call. and don’t go fibbing because I get a report of who calls and who doesn’t answer! So please don’t hesitate to call if you see me on. If I don’t answer I’m probably drooling on my pillow, in class and forgot to turn off my phone line, grabbing a quick bite to eat or something like that. Again – if I miss your call I WILL send you a couple of minutes for next time as an incentive to try me again the next time I’m on.

I got to lay down for a bit. This up at 7 and to bed at 2:00AM is beginning to take a toll on my eyes! But tomorrow today is my last day before the weekend so it’s going to be PARTY PLAY TIME at CeCe’s for sure, though!

Hope to talk/play soon!

So yeah- I own a lot of porn. Actually I don’t own a LOT anymore because you can get it for free with out subjecting your computer to serious venereal diseases/trojans and the like. No membership fees, no discs to hide in your documentary DVD cases in an obvious attempt to disguise them. Yeah – I know all about that. I’ve babysat before and all babysitters snoop. And eat all your good food in your pantry. And let your kids stay up way past their bedtime and eat tons of sugar and pizza. What? I had to get job security somehow!

I’ve seen my porn tastes develop and bloom over the last few years. At first it was enough to look at a picture, or even read a story. But now I like the actual sounds and the action. And before I enjoyed a great babysitting movie just like the next …uh…girl. But now I have an insatiable crush on Dirty Harry. And there are other things that I’ve developed a liking for, too. But they are private and I’d like to know who I’m confessing to. Although I do have a “going-to-go-to-hell-for-this” fantasy including confessionals, too, come to think of it.

The other day I was speaking to a new caller named Chris. We’ve talked a couple of times and I’m JUST getting to know him a bit better. He’s a gentleman — the rare new caller who asks me what types of things I like so we can both have a great time. It’s not a requirement — I definitely get pleasure when hearing you guys pleased. But it’s nice to have someone genuinely care about your orgasm and get paid for it. So we’re having some pillow talk and I mention my porn collection. I know that when you die things really won’t matter. I mean, you’re dead. But I’ve seen Ghost several times. And I believe there will be some Whoopi Goldberg that will be hired by some person in my life to contact my spirit that is just hanging around and thanks to that bitch I’ll have to sit around while my family members discover my huge collection of porn, vibrators, and .. yeah – compromising pictures of me and text and audio, etc. Not to freak anyone else out, but I think about shit like that all the time. Well, not all the time – but often enough that I sometimes lose a little bit of sleep over it. I think about it enough to have recently taken a close look at my diet and exercise regimen. I gotta stay alive as long as possible. At least to outlive my parents.

Well, Chris understood what I was talking about. And he mentioned that I need a porn buddy. I think that was the term he used. Not someone who sits around and masturbates over porn with you, but a buddy who will clean up your … um … messes when you die. Someone you can entrust your computer to when you’re gone. They can come in and manually douche out your cache and files and – take your hard drive and bury it with you or something – I don’t know. I suppose you can specify exactly what your porn buddy’s duties will be. This of course should be done prior to your untimely death. It all makes perfect sense! What a perfect answer to a most terrifying question that has been hanging over my little head for years!

I just wanted to share this with my callers in case they hadn’t thought about this option. And, because we’re all in this together, I wanted to offer my services, free of charge, really, to be your porn buddy. You can bequeath me all of your hard drives with all of your various porn and I will keep it nice and safe for you – far away from suspecting friends and family and your reputation will remain untarnished. I will destroy all toys, dresses, lingerie, wigs, etc. I will destroy all real dolls, pocket pussies and fleshlights. I will be your clean up woman, baby, ensuring that you will really rest in peace. Now who will be mine?

I have lots of things to do before I “sleep” though – so enough about all this morbid death talk. Although one should always be prepared for events that are unplanned, right? If you need help with any of it, or care to confess about why you would even need a porn buddy – give me a call.
You’ll be glad you did!

I could write a post about that. But I won’t. Although at this point, I’m sure many of you are just happy to be reading anything I write about!

What I want to say is that I’m knee deep in finals week. Today will be my very first final. And if you all could just take a moment out of your day and say a little prayer for me (Dionne Warrick style) around 1:00PM PST, I’d appreciate it. I’ll be attempting to write 3 short essays in about 80 minutes for my English Literature class. Hopefully I’ll be successful, but I’m not good at writing under pressure (obviously).

All in all, this semester of school has gone extremely well. I’m sitting on a 100 percent right now in Math class. Yeah. 100 percent. Which means on every test I’ve done I’ve gotten 100 percent on. Can I say that any more times? Meanwhile in my upper level English class I’ve received a B on my last essay. Which really isn’t THAT surprising considering I suck at essays. Well, I don’t suck, they just aren’t my ‘thing’. I’ve really enjoyed this class though, and I’d love to nail the final and walk out of the class with an A. I deserve it. And then there’s the Anthropology class, that even with an excellent tutor (thank you Dr. Benway!) I’m still struggling with all the terms and stuff I’m forced to learn. Axis. Coccyx, Tarsus, Occipital, Gracile, Robust, Sternum, Calcaneus, phalanges, metatarsals, temporal, deciduous… seriously. It’s a damn 1 credit lab class and I feel like I’m in medical school. Haven’t been surrounded by that many skeletons and skulls in – well, forever, really. When I’m done cramming all of this information into my head I’ll impress you with some of the things I’ve learned (do you know why your clavicle is S shaped? I do. ). It really is fascinating, this human body. And I am really (despite my bitching and complaining) so excited to be in a position to learn all about so many different things. Going to school is by far one of the smartest things I’ve ever done and I’m so absolutely blessed and thankful to have a ‘job’ that allows me to continue my educational goals. That was what I would have written in November. A big huge Thank You to all of my clients and friends.
But yeah… I didn’t.

So I’m almost done. And then I’m going to take a little bit of a vacation. Twice. But more on that later. For now know that I’m thinking of all of you, and even though my schedule is a bit fucked at the moment, it should get a bit clearer in less than a week. I am still logging on during the evenings, and lately I’ve been staying on overnight. I can’t promise I’ll hear the phone ring at 3:00AM, but I have been getting up regularly around 5:30 thanks to my alarm clock (wink wink nudge nudge to you know who for being my alarm clock every morning practically!) I’ll update some things around here after Thursday’s last final and settle down long enough to put up a working schedule. At least. I hope.

Oh, and Manic Make up Monday became more of a Manic Finals Mayhem. I’ll postpone that until maybe next Monday. Or not. It’s Christmas time, maybe I’ll have every Monday in December be Make Up Monday! ahaha. Remind me to tell you all about my massive makeup collection. I make it seem all innocent and cute and in some little make up case with a zipper, but in reality my make up collection takes up more drawers than my t-shirt, panty, bra and sock drawers combined. Some people collect cars, dolls, coins, stamps, or bones (that’s a small nod to my Anthropology Professor who I think has a crush on me. She’s a girl. More on that later!). I collect lipstick, nail polish, eyeshadows, and other stuff. *shrugs* What can I say?

I can say bye. That’s what I can say. Gotta run and prepare for my final, and go to my prep for my math final that I can fail and still get an A in the class. It’s the small light at the end of a long tunnel – like many of you have been these past few weeks of cramming and studying and crying and moaning and screaming and … oh – wait – that was my last call. My bad. But in all seriousness, thanks for all you have done to make this semester a great one. You’ve kept me sane. I’ll make you proud.

*ahem*

Just because a woman CAN have multiple orgasms, does NOT mean that she wants to have 20.  To be more specific, just because this woman can have multiple orgasms, does NOT mean that I am comfortable having 5.  To make this easier to digest, I will break down my argument into 3 main issues: Energy, Pleasure, and Pain.  I think that about covers the topics.  Although there may be more, these are the ones top on my list.

1. Energy.
1. Cumming takes energy.
2. Energy requires energy.
3. When a person creates energy by putting forth energy, exhaustion will occur. 
4. Successive orgasms with no recovery time while pretty in movies and intriguing by men who are largely unable to achieve multiple orgasms, is exhausting.
2. Pleasure.
1. Pleasure feels good.
2. When a man can make a woman feel good, it will result in the man feeling a certain amount of pleasure.
3. Unless he’s a selfish ass and then he’s probably not reading this because he’s never made a woman cum out of his own self centered need to achieve an orgasm as quickly as possible so he can roll over and go to bed.
4. You can actually get too much of a good thing.
5. I realized this when I ate 1/4 pound of peach candies in one sitting.
6. the first 20 pieces were delicious, and then it just got painful.
7. a few orgasms is lovely, but after 5 or 6 orgasms, discomfort will be a result. This is especially true if one is using the Hitachi Wand.
8. Energy creates heat (See Einstein’s whole theory on relativity).
9. A clitoris bursting into flames could be the result of too much of a good thing turned very bad and, I’m guessing, this would be extremely unpleasant.
3. Pain.
1. Have you ever had an itch in the middle of your back that you couldn’t reach?
2. Then you find the right stick (or fork or fingernails of a friend, parent or lover)  and you ask them to scratch your itch for you…
3. And at first you just move around like some cat in heat because it feels so fucking good.
4. But then they just stay on that one spot, and they start to go harder and you try to move away from them…
5. But they are kind of dense, and they keep up with it until finally your itch is gone, and in its place is a hole where your back use to be?
6. Yeah.  I believe I’ve made my point.

So dear caller.  I love the fact that “you” delight in my orgasms.  When I tell you that I’m cumming, please take pleasure in knowing you are responsible for the great response (well, and Hitachi wand, of course!) If you want me to have a second – ask me if I’m ready or if I need a bit of a break.  I will tell you honestly how it is.  When I say something like … “ouchie” – that usually means that smoke is beginning to come off of my clit and I need a bit of a break.  I’m not being cute.  If you wonder if I’ve reached orgasm (sometimes I have to be a bit quiet…sorry – sucks living at home!), please don’t hesitate to ask me.  If you need me to tell you “I’m cumming” – I will be more than willing to do so.  Please – for the love of my clitoris and all that is holy, when I tell you I can not cum anymore, don’t consider that a challenge.  It’s not.  I mean I. CAN. NOT. PHYSICALLY. CUM. ANYMORE. WITH OUT. DOING. DAMAGE. TO. MY. WOMANHOOD! 

This blog post is my own personal opinion and I do not intend to speak for every other woman in the entire universe.  The specific details may be different (maybe SarahICanCumFiftyTimeswhileSquirting can cum 50 times with out setting her clit on fire…) but I assure you that all women do have limits on how many times they are able to cum with out experiencing discomfort.  The clit, like the penis, becomes very sensitive after arousal and should be handled with care.  Thank you and goodnight.

I’m REALLY sorry I made this confusing. It sounded so good on paper, but executing it is a whole ‘nother story. Not sure if it’s just my hang over from Saturday haunting me or the fricken confusing way in which I explained these damn rules!

Forgive me and then give me a call. You’ll be glad you did!

Kidding.

I just don’t like loud noises. And fireworks take longer to prepare than actually seeing them. I don’t mean to sound like a brat (though I’m getting practice becoming more of one thanks to some of my callers who are holding classes in brat), I just don’t like the whole anticipation of fireworks for 10 minutes. Or even 15. It took longer for me to drive to an area to see these fireworks and then set up to watch them than it did for the actual show. It’s comparable to being prepared for a nice long sex session doing your favorite fantasy, and getting a minute. I understand quickies can be necessary and downright enjoyable guys, but I’m not wearing my sexiest lingerie for one. Did I get all off topic and lose the original point? Yeah? Original point: I hate fireworks.

Jackson totally freaked out during them. I don’t know what I was doing last 4th of July because I don’t remember him acting like this last year. Or maybe I just repressed the whole event. But tonight, Jackson was just pissed off. Not scared but he was in full protector mode. The neighbors started shooting off (fireworks) at about 5:00PM I swear! And then the theme park next to me started shooting them off hours later, and then a few drunk neighbors decided to test their luck and shot off fireworks an hour ago. During this long torture my dog the protector decided that all he had to do was bark at a high enough and loud enough decibel and the fireworks would stop. He’s now passed out on the rug acting like he’s responsible for restoring world peace. Next year he’s getting a doggy tranquilizer.

So enough of the whining, let me say I will take MY kind of fireworks over 4th of July ones any day of the year! You guys have kept me so incredibly busy and happy this weekend! I didn’t know that coming back would be so rewarding. I still have so much to do before I can sit back and ‘kind of’ relax, but I have until the 3rd week in August to complete some of the renovations I’m doing around here. I think I might just make it.

I decided to stay up late late and work to gain your favor (ahaha) and I guess it worked and you all forgive me. Glad we got that sniveling and begging out of the way so we can go back to how things were before I flaked for 4-5 months. And yeah, I mean MY sniveling and begging! So I spent the past few days not really sleeping and doing some serious calls. I also spent quite a bit of time thinking up an incentive program/reward system that will make sure I never sleep for more than 5 hours a night again EVER! But it will be totally worth it! I really like being able to do something for my callers who have supported me since I was 18 (wait – that was just 1 year since I’m only STILL 19!). I’ve had friends come and go since those beginning days, but …

Let’s not do this AGAIN. I always get all sentimental like I’m dying or something. Just thanks. And the incentive program is underway. I will be updating and sending you all emails in the next few days so watch your inboxes on niteflirt. If you don’t want to participate, please let me know. I hate spam and certainly don’t want to be contributing to mail you’d prefer to not be getting.

Um … I think that’s basically it. This week is pretty much mine to do with as I wish, so I’ll be available early evenings for calls every day except Monday & Tuesday evenings (spin class – won’t be home until about 9:00PM). So dreamers, tomorrow let’s dream a bit together! You’ll be glad you did!

My spring break is officially over. I started off with a plan to do nothing but work and study, and that lasted for a bout a day. I did however manage to log in for at least 5 of the days (or maybe it was closer to 6?) and was able to talk to many of you who I haven’t had a chance to talk to in a long while. I thought that maybe after spring break I would be more able to determine a workable schedule for myself. What I learned during spring break is that my class load is so demanding this semester and unless I hold myself accountable to a set schedule to work/log in – it’s not going to happen. There is always going to be that paper I have to write, or the test I should study for or whatever. And I need to start giving myself set times to do the things I need to do every day. It’s difficult when you are like me and are use to shoving millions of things on your plate and then constantly juggling them , pretending the whole time that you have everything (crash!) under (crash!) control (shatter!).

So where was I before I decided to do sound affects? Oh yeah – holding myself to a set schedule.

I decided one day that I would play a sort of game with myself. I would say when I would log in – and then if I did not log in by that certain time and a caller (you) actually emailed me during the time I said I would be on but wasn’t, then I would reward that caller with a little incentive to call me back at a later date – with a free minute – or five – depending on the infraction. Pretty good, right?

So I did this the first time and had one lucky winner. The second time I logged in on time. I did this actually 3 days last week (once I thought of the brilliant idea!) and only one person came a looking during that time. Lucky him! So – it was pretty successful. Especially today. I was coming home from the gym when suddenly I stopped off at CVS in order to pick up a few things. Suddenly I looked at my watch. OH MY GOSH – 8:54! I said I would log in at 9:00PM. I ran out of the store (after paying for my items, of course!), into my car, and down the street. Tick tock tick tock. Arriving on my street I found the only parking space in front of the house was maybe 2 feet longer than my car. Yeah. I had to parallel park. And yes, I have a toyota. But come on – the space was barely bigger than my car. I lined up and prayed, pulling the wheel to the left (or was it to the right) and then back to the right, pulling forward a smidge – then back a touch and TAH DAH! Perfect parking job. No time to admire my handiwork, I ran into the house, grabbed my lap top, logged in at 9:01 – and ran to my room to get my phone. I was 1 minute late. And NO ONE emailed me at 9:00PM to get their incentive minute/s. Maybe you’ll catch me next time, boys.

So for those of you who do not understand what is going on (CeCe – all I want you to do is moan a little for me and tell me how to stroke my cock – who cares about all this other stuff, you may be saying) here is the scoop: I will twitter my plans for my schedule on the day that I plan on working. All you need to do is look to the right under the little heart and twitter/stalk me, and you will read my plans for the evening. I’ll probably say something like – will be logging in by 8:45PM. or – Look for me at 9:00PM PST, boys! Something like that. At whatever time I have specified you, dear sweet caller, will go to my NF page and see if I’m AVAILABLE. While you’re checking, how about a call. Seriously. Ok – you’re all jazzed for a call but wait. I’m no where to be found. I’m probably parallel parking! So you email me something like – “It’s 8:50. Where are you?” and then I reward you by giving you something for your troubles. Pretty clear, yes? I’ll make it clearer. No more of this “around 9:30 ish” stuff from me. It will be exact minutes. No more “at the latest”, either. I will only say when I’ll be logging in from this moment on. And if I’m not logged in you must email me (so I know you were actually paying attention) and tell me when you came looking for me – and when I said I’d be there. And then you can throw in some other things in the email like how much you miss me and hope my math test goes well and how sexy I look in my yellow bikini and stuff like that. Then wait for the note in your inbox with your present and my deepest heart felt apologies. I am not the kind of flirt that gives away minutes for feedback, or bait (to call me). I believe that my services are competitive (maybe a bit on the low side) and I feel that I’m already priced at a bargain, basically. I don’t need to give out minutes to my callers. They dont expect minutes from me, except on rare instances where I suck (lol – it happens) or I have a bad phone connection or some other quality control type issue. And I feel that this free minute idea falls in line with quality control. I promise to be here at a certain time. You may have other obligations or family stuff that only allows you to be here at a certain time. You make allowances to call me, and what a drag when you do all that only to find I’m not here, right? So I am attempting to make it worth it for you to check my availability, and also worth it to try again if you see I am not available for you. It’s in my best interest to keep my schedule, which will result in all of you being able to find me more regularly and well – it’s a win win situation. So once again – I will post my schedule for that day on my twitter (celinawetdreams if you wanna follow me). My twitter update will appear on the page under twitter updates (smiles) on the right … over THERE (pointing to the right). You can then go to my page to see if I’ve kept my word and logged in at the set time. If I haven’t – you must email me and tell me what time you were looking for me and what time I was suppose to be there. Watch your inbox for your surprise. Pretty simple, right? Keep in mind that all times I post are PST time.

Any questions?

I had something else to say, but it will take longer than a minute and I really must go back to my studying and phone calls. I’ll only be on for a bit longer, and then I have an appt (smiles) but may log back in. Watch my twitter.

Have a great week! Talk soon…

Great positive feel good post, CeCe.

So yeah. It was difficult. But about 2 weeks ago, I realized that I had come through the other side. I decided to just let it be. I told myself that I wasn’t being foolish to feel such strong feelings for someone. That more than likely (definitely more likely than not) the object of my crush wanted me to feel exactly how I was feeling. I had definitely been led on, toyed with, manipulated. Not out of some cruel evil plot, but just because everyone (men and women, gay, straight, bi, old, young, republican and liberals) want to be wanted and love attention and are drawn to cute brace faced girls with great senses of humor. Seriously, though, it’s human to want to be wanted, and it’s easy to play those games we do to see if we’re really as wanted as we think we are. You get my point. I forgave her. I started to see her as someone who may have a slight bigger case of insecurity than I did. I decided to love her anyway, but love her in a mature healthy way. I wouldn’t daydream about her anymore or be upset when I no longer got her attention. I would just allow whatever to be to be and look at things a bit more positively. And things started to change. And now things are almost back to normal and there’s only a slight scar where the crush use to be. Sometimes when it gets pressed it’s a little tender and I think that it’s coming back again. But it never does. It stays put. It knows to stay put. So – thank God. I got through it.

I have a few callers who call for advice every now and again and I try to give the best advice I can. I don’t have a license (obviously) to give psychiatric advice and referrals (ahaha) but I do have an open mind and I’m kind. I honestly do not judge people harshly. Niteflirt has the ability to freak out flirts from time to time and I don’t ever get freaked out. Sure, there are some things I’m not into. We can’t all be into everything. But there isn’t anything that makes me want to run in the opposite direction. There isn’t anything that makes me think the person thinking it or doing it or whatever is sick. I know that’s pretty liberal of me, and it’s not said to be a challenge so everyone with unique fetishes and over the top ideas in their heads can call me up to test me on what I’m saying, it’s said as a way of maybe comforting those of you who are worried about things that you think about or get excited about or whatever. Here I am, a pastor’s kid, working on niteflirt, having crushes on girls, having fantasies about all kinds of things that are off the beaten trail, going to school and living in a world that is predominately afraid of differences. I actually live in the very city that describes that song “little boxes”. Here I am, having all kinds of conflicting thoughts and feelings about a host of things that could all be labeled taboo by someone. But I’m not ashamed of my fantasies. So you shouldn’t be either.

So there you have it. A confession to tantalize a few confessions out of you. For those of you who have entrusted me to your secrets, thank you. I’ll keep them safe. And for those who are wondering if you can trust me with a few of your ‘gems’ – wonder no more. Give me a call. You’ll be glad you did.

“Are you going up?” A kind older gentleman asked me from a elevator.

“Sure!” I said – lightly jogging to the doors, my computer bag thumping gently against my thighs.

“Floor?”

“Um – 5th, please.”

He pushed the button next to his 4 and the doors gently closed. I didn’t know what kind of room would greet me when I stepped off the elevator. Holding my card that would be the key I walked towards my room and stuck the card in the little slot. A red light blinked back at me and I jiggled the handle of the door. Turning the card over I tried again. Several times I wiggled and jiggled that card in the slot before finally glancing again at the door number. Walking down the corridor I tried again. Green light. Entrance was granted. Hopefully I didn’t freak out the person in the other room too badly. I hurried through the door of my room just in case.

To the left was the closet doors – a safe (If I had brought any porn or toys with me I would have stored it there. No one wants the maid to see their stash!)- hangers, coffee maker, iron board, ice thingee, cups, shelves. A bathroom, with a mirrored door capturing my amazement, was across from the closet. In it, a good size tub and a nice shower and the best part? Immaculate. The living area housed a Huge King Size Bed – with pillows galore, overstuffed chair in the corner – a big desk – a ginormous (that’s gigantic and enormous combined) television on top of a chest of drawers (2 bottled waters on top. $3.50 ea. Are you fuckin serious?!)Floor to ceiling drapes – one layer sheer, second layer heavy upholstery that can block out a fire storm. Behind the drapes? Sliding glass doors leading to a balcony over looking outside eating area, pool, and hot tub.

I dropped my bags (carefully) on the floor and ran and flung myself on the king size bed. “1 FULL NIGHT WITH ROOM SERVICE!!!”, I screamed into the pillow, hands and feet kicking, swimming, joyful. Lying on my back, I stared up at the ceiling, then took in the paintings on the wall, then noticed a package on the desk. Walking towards it cautiously, I noticed that it was addressed to me with the address of the hotel. “Eddie?” I’m sure he wasn’t in the room…but how did he plan all this? I opened up the package, read the note, leaned against the desk and looked at the gifts piled in the palm of my hand. This had to be a dream. If so, the ring of the phone didn’t wake me from it.

My phone call with Edward was filled with giggles and sighs and too many thank yous. “You don’t need to thank me.” He said with a smile in his voice. But I did. Because I have never had such an experience. Ever. And while I’ve had some really awesome gifts, this present was — unexpectedly sweet and romantic.

For a little more than 24 hours I lived in a clutter free, stress proofed, climate controlled, paradise. Everything was paid for, Eddie had told me, just tip well. I gave the waiter a 200% tip, partially because I didn’t have anything smaller, and partially because I didn’t notice the bill that clearly had a spot to put in the tip. Tips and room service would all be covered, billed to the room, picked up by him.

“Did I do something right?”

“What?” I asked the waiter.

“Did I do something right?” he repeated, holding up the bill I had given him.

“I guess we both did.” I told him, assuring him that the tip was, in fact, for him.

Word traveled fast. By that evening I was Miss CeCe. As in, Miss CeCe is everything ok?, Miss CeCe is there anything else we can get you?, Miss CeCe would you like this billed to your room? Miss CeCe…

I could write about this high for the rest of my life, and still I would miss some intricate detail, some look, some touch…one of my senses would be jealous of the other. I’m going to miss something. I’ve worked on this post now for 2 weeks, turning it over again and again in my mind, and I can still see the look on the waiter’s face when I gave him that tip. I still taste the french toast the next morning, and my legs still remember how they stretched across the king size bed with no puppy, lap top, or text books getting in the way of my stretch. My body still tingles from the bubble bath I took while speaking to him later that evening, I can still hear the complete joy in his voice knowing I was having a great time and the surprise the next morning when he completed the check out on line. “You practiced restraint” He had said. 1 movie, 2 meals, a few drinks for a girlfriend who came to visit, Internet Access…It seemed a lot on top of the gift, the room, the peace. You know, I might not have fully understood why he did it, had it not been for the waiter and the look of surprise on his face. “Did I do something right?” he had asked me when I gave him the 20 dollar bill for the 10 dollar cheeseburger with too little ketchup.

Seeing the joy on someone’s face from an act of pure generosity is amazing. Understanding that more than once I have been the one in the position of the waiter — that is, providing a service for someone and hoping that it is significant and pleasing. More times than not I am given 200 percent more than what I have given. But I have never been in the position of being able to be as generous as I was that day. I will not forget that feeling and because of it, I will more than likely find a way to have it happen again albeit on a smaller scale, like on the phone with you.

So there it is. My high. Floating down a little bit the past few weeks, but still there, happily floating along and thankful for the ones who see the right I do. Often.