#can’t have it all I guesssssssss

[storiesoflilies]

hi! try this :) https://pin.it/7yDRk3alf

wahhhh apologies for the blurry pic!!!

[hiddlestonfanficinthebooks]

Chapter Five

For hours, we lay together, touching, kissing, giggling, and, most of all, talking.  I never was at a loss of what to talk about when I was with him. He effortlessly flowed from one topic to the next: kings of England, cars, disappointing partners, Shakespeare, favorite lunch foods, clothes, artists, Kennedy conspiracies.  

 Just before midnight, we still had not eaten, so we ordered delivery and sat around his coffee table, stuffing Thai food into our mouths as quickly as we could eat. Everything tastes better when a person is hungry, but wearing his button-up shirt, watching his facial expressions as he told me about filming in Vietnam, I could not imagine life getting much better.

 As we cleaned up, Tom leaned against a kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest.  “Do you have to go home? I mean, I know you said that you had a chapter due soon, but could you possibly stay? I am happy to ride with you to pack a bag…”

My cheeks turned bright red. “Wellll, actually…I was hoping you would ask, so I have an overnight bag in my car,” I answered, my eyes cutting over at him.

Tom lifted me into his arms and kissed me all the way back upstairs.  “I LOVE the way you THINK, Susannah,” he laughed as he collapsed onto the bed with me still in his arms.  And then the smile left his face. “There’s something that…we should discuss.”

My heart jumped in my chest. “Yes?” I asked as I turned to my side.

The hem of his shirt reached almost to my knees as I lay there, and he reached over to tickle my leg just under its edge.  “I don’t…I don’t fuck around,” he announced, surprising me so much that my eyes widened.

“Oooook,” I nodded. “That’s a good thing, right?”  I laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but he was having none of that.

“What I mean is this…if you want to go out with a variety of people and sleep with a variety of people, I’m not the right person for you to be seeing. Now, I’m not trying to fence you into a relationship before you are ready, but…I want you to know I simply don’t live that way.  If I am with a person, I am with that person. Maybe it won’t last long, maybe it will, but I am not a ‘do-as-many-as-I-can’ bloke,” he explained, his fingers lifting to play in my hair.  “Maybe we should have had this talk before we added sex to our…friendship, partnership, relationship, whatever we are calling what we have.”

I tried not to do it; I truly did, but I could not stop myself. I giggled.  He looked mortified.  “Tom, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at what YOU said. I am just laughing at the thought of someone thinking I am a ‘do-as-many-as-I-can’ woman. I can count the relationships I have had on one hand…and I don’t mean for a year; I mean since I had my FIRST relationship.”

Tom scooted closer and kissed the tip of my nose.  “You’re lovely, Annah,” he smiled and kissed my lips as well.  “And I enjoy spending time with you.”

I was over the moon.

The next morning, we went on a long bike ride through Tom’s neighborhood and then through the park. It was a beautiful day, and spending that time with Tom made it even more wonderful. I ended up spending that night, too, and when I returned home Sunday evening to work on my chapter, I just stared at my laptop, remembering every single moment of the weekend, every vivid detail.

And that is how things continued for the next two months.  I worked like mad; he worked as well. Every couple of nights, he would stay at my flat, or I would stay with him.  And then, when Thursday, or what I called “Academic Friday,” rolled around, I would eat lunch at work and then watch the seconds, the minutes, the hours tick away until I could leave the history department and jet over there to him.

And then it happened…he had to go away for a few weeks. And after five days without him, I thought my world was ending.  I wept. I couldn’t sleep. I was a total hot mess. I was, no doubt at all, in love.

I’d had a couple of “serious” relationships in my dating life, but not for years.  When I was a junior in high school, I dated an older guy for three years and KNEW I would marry him.  He had been a football hero; graduating the year I was a freshman, he went to work for his dad who owned his own construction company.  Unfortunately for him, he got drunk one time too many and, angry that I had stayed after a school play to help clean up instead of meeting him at a local hangout, he grabbed my arm and yanked me out onto the front porch…right in front of my Marine father.  He nearly killed the kid.  And then when I was an undergraduate at Duke, I dated a guy for a couple of years, but that was all for naught.  He dropped out, decided to join the Peace Corps, and fell in love with a Tanzanian doctor. On Facebook, I found pictures of their four children. I got over both guys, eventually. I had deeply cared for them. And I had cared for the few other guys I had dated in America and here in London. But nothing had floored me like this madness. And that truly scared me.

I worked out. I went to the movies with Mary. I studied at the libraries for hours on end.  Nothing helped.  I could not get him out of my head.

The thing that frightened me the most was I had no idea if he felt the same.  There is always that emotional tightrope that people walk, unsure if they should cross it, make the leap from into the petrifying love-zone. And I was there, teetering on the line between two skyscrapers on a windy day, my only salvation in the form of a tiny parasol.

One night, I had just forced myself out of a steaming hot bath, slipped into my old, comfy bathrobe, and collapsed onto the sofa when my cell rang in the kitchen. Hearing Tom’s special ringtone, I nearly killed myself tripping over my backpack as I ran in there.

Before I could even say hello, I heard his voice on the line: “Damn, I have missed you, woman. I am walking through Heathrow, and I can’t get to my luggage fast enough.”  

I could picture him, his long legs carrying him through throngs of people rushing this way and that.

“Most of all, I can’t get to you fast enough…” he said, his cell connection breaking in and out.

My heart was beating so hard that I had to flop down on the floor.  “Tom… I…can’t…Tom?” I called to him.

His ��Susannah? Are you there? Did you hear me?” mixed with my “Tom…no…hello? What did you say?”

“I said that I LOVE you,” he practically shouted.

Hearing those words, I shot up from the floor and hopped all over the room.  “OH. MY. GOD!  I love you, too, Tom!” I squealed.

“Annah? Hello? HELLO?” he yelled through the static.

And then...the line went silent, and I just stared at my phone, waiting for him to call back.  He didn’t.  When I called, I got his voicemail. Too excited to leave a message, I called Mary, waking her up to share the news. When I called him back and again got his voicemail, I threw my phone across the room, turned on my favorite band and danced all over my flat.

An hour later, there was a knock.  I ran to the door so quickly that I slid right into its frame before I could turn the knob.  Standing there, luggage all around him, he didn’t say a word.  He just stared at me. “Did…did you hear me?” he asked, scratching his cheek.

I nodded, my eyes brimming with tears. “You didn’t hear me?” I squeaked.

“NO! I didn’t know if you had heard …”

I hopped up into his arms; surprised, he toppled into one and the other side of the door as we stumbled into my flat.  All the while, I kissed every inch of his smiling face.  “I LOVE you, TOO!” I giggled.  “I DO.  I love you, Tom Hiddleston.”

Helping me slide down his long body, he held my face between his hands and kissed me properly.  “Hi,” he whispered when he stood straight again. His fingers tickling down my jawline and chin

“Hiiiiii,” I gushed, my knees so weak I could hardly stand.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as his eyes scanned me carefully.

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I had on NO makeup, and my messy, damp hair was twisted up, strands falling onto my shoulders.  And the robe…I was HORRIFIED.

“TOM! Let me…let me get dressed…I…l look a mess,” I gasped and headed into my room.

His response as he pulled one and then another of his bags from the hallway: “STOP!  Don’t you take ANOTHER step!”

Turning back to him, my eyes wide, I stared, not knowing what to do or say.

“You look amazing! Don’t mess that up with makeup.  Now, what… ehheheheh… do you have under there?” he laughed, closing and locking the door behind him.

I untied my robe and let it fall to the floor.  Tom walked over, swept up my naked body into his arms, and carried me the rest of the way to my bed.

When he lowered me to the bed, standing there,  I was not much taller than he was.  Looping my arms around his neck, I kissed him.  As he leaned in to kiss me back, I gasped.

“Oh! Guesssssssss what I did while you were gone,” I smiled and bit my bottom lip.

He lifted his eyebrows, waiting for my answer.

“I went to the doctor, and…” hopping off the bed, I rummaged through my purse and climbed up on the bed again.  “I…got an…IUD.”  I handed over the paper to him.  “And…I thought that I would show you those results.”

His eyes widened as he laughed; he walked to his suitcases and back. “I had a physical for a new movie, and I got mine back, too. Negative. One of the few times it’s good to be negative, right?”

I nodded.

He gasped.  “So, the IUD…the results…does that mean I don’t…have to wear…”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

With that, he began to strip down as quickly as he could.  And, reaching out, I helped with the unbuttoning and unzipping.  In no time, he was completely nude and jumped right into bed with me.

Kissing me softly, he shifted between my legs and smiled down at me.

“I…I really meant what I said,” he whispered as he kissed my throat, licking its hollow.   “I love you, Susannah.”

My heart skipped a beat. “I love you, too, Tom,” I whispered back.  My head was spinning from his words, from my excitement, from feeling how excited he was as he pressed against my leg.

His mouth lowered between my breasts, kissing them both, his lips closing around one nipple and then the next. He also kissed down my stomach, over my thighs, between them.  Biting them lightly, he separated them more with his huge hands. “I woke up at times, craving you,” he whispered as he looked up at me and lowered his tongue to slip between my lips.  “I needed to taste you.”

My hands behind my head, I clawed at my bed, gripping there and then his shoulders as he went down on me. Slowly, faster, deeper, his tongue and fingers slipped in and out of me; his lips closed around my clit, and as he tugged there, my chest lifted and fell, my hips bucked.  Minutes later, my hands held the back of his head as I shook against him.

Licking back up my body, he paused to smile down at me.  “I love making you cum,” he mumbled while positioning his body between my legs.  Pausing again, he fluttered his eyes before pressing farther inside me. “Awww…fucking hell. You feel so amazing.  I don’t think I can…oh, Annah…” His body collapsed over mine, and I wrapped my arms around his back, my fingers tickling over his still taught muscles.

When he pressed up on his elbows, he covered his face with his long fingers; even then, I could see the his blushing through them.  “I am horribly embarrassed,” he groaned.  “I just…I couldn’t…”

“TOM! Don’t be SILLY,” I giggled. “What you did…with your mouth…”  I rubbed the tip of my finger over his lips, and he kissed my hand, my wrist.  “We can always do it again…”

“Oh, HELL, yes we will,” he added, rolling to his back and positioning me on his chest.  “Just a…a nap. So tired from traveling all the way from…” His voice faded, and seconds later, his snoring made me smile.  Smiling widely, I closed my eyes, and sleep quickly overtook me.

[nancypullen]

Miss Universe, Part Two: National Costumes

I’m crushed, I’d written a lengthy, entertaining review of the national costumes and I lost it.  It’s my own fault, which makes it even worse.  Always, always save as you go. Geez.  Let’s try this again, even though I can’t remember any of what I shared.  I guess I’ll just dive right in. I’ve always loved the “Parade of Nations”.  At least that’s what they used to call it when the contestants would line up in whatever get up they were forced to wear, approach the microphone and shout out their country’s name.  ALBANIA! ANGOLA! ARGENTINA! All the way to Zambia.  It was like a ride through It’s a Small World but with better hair and Wonder Bras.  Apparently that process took too long and over the decades it was shortened and shifted until eventually it just became part of the preliminary competition the week prior to the pageant.  It was renamed the National Costume Contest and isn’t aired, though they usually trot the winning costume out for applause on the big night.  But we don’t get to see that magical Parade of Nations...unless, like me, you are obsessed and search for it on YouTube.   I wasn’t sure how to group these. Alphabetically? By continent?  From best to worst?   As always, some are glorious, some are terrifying, some are confusing, and some are flops. I decided to just jump in with my incomplete and random review, starting with my comfort zone.

I love traditional folk costumes.  They’re sweet. they’re easy, they represent the country’s history, and they can probably be passed down year after year.  They’re not show stoppers, but they’re not bad.  No harm, no foul.

Bulgaria

Kyrgyzstan

Korea

Greece

All perfectly lovely and appropriate. Angola’s is fine too, though highly flammable and I’m pretty sure that’s a snake on her head which is an immediate disqualifier for me.

The contestants from the Caribbean, and Central and South America invariably show up as giant warrior birds.  Sometimes they’ll mix in a coral reef or a jungle landscape, but it’s almost always sexy birds. This year was no different.

Aruba

Belize

Brazil

Ecuador (hummingbird or peacock?)

Guatemala - I saw a chicken just like this at the Wilson County Fair.

El Salvador

Jamaica...are those the Olympic rings on her head piece?

Haiti didn’t have access to as many feathers.

Maybe because Panama used them ALL.

There are always exceptions to the rule, and this year the pageant folks in the Bahamas decided to send their queen dressed as a pineapple.

I wasn’t aware that pineapples were a big deal in the Bahamas. Now I know. Mission accomplished Miss Bahamas. Also departing from the big bird theme was Miss Venezuela.  Try to guesssssssss why I hated her costume.

I’m sure that it was the best naked-princess-butterfly-holding-a-snake costume ever, but it creeped me out. Chile had what appeared to be a log on her head and a great deal of sod draped around her. Maybe Weed ‘n Feed sponsored her.

Miss British Virgin Islands showed up with Red Lobster’s all-you-can-eat seafood platter on her head. 

And Miss Peru was the only one smart enough to put her costume on wheels, probably because she doesn’t have legs.  I guess Peru is famous for mermaids?

There are also national costumes that require the wearer to carry a heavy load.  Some are supposed to be historic buildings or temples, others are giant animals. Cambodia

India

Miss Myanmar is a puzzle. I’m not sure if this is a drum or a dinner plate.  Her dress looks like a tree which doesn’t provide clues that make me lean toward one or the other. I’m probably way off.  Either way, it looks heavy.

Miss Netherland’s hat doesn’t look as unwieldy as some, but it IS a ship.  It’s a nod to the Dutch history of sailing and trading and I suppose it’s even in that lovely Delft blue which is a winner.   I’ll allow it.  Could be worse, she could have a whole windmill on her head.

That said, how about a moment of silence for Miss Thailand.  Girlfriend had to lug around an elephant and try to look happy about it.

From the contestants bearing weight, we’ll jump to those who hardly tried.  Miss France stuck an Eiffel Tower pin on her panties and tucked some tulle into her belt.   Come on, how about a ball gown that looks like the hall of mirrors at Versailles?  How about a giant macaron hat?  Maybe a gown that looks like a Monet painting.  Seriously, call me - I’ll help.

I just realized that those soccer balls on her shoulders probably have something to do with France’s victory in last year’s World Cup.  Still a pass from me. Then there are the costumes that I simply don’t understand.  Probably my fault, not theirs.  I’m sure that this neon shamrock and mardi gras outfit make perfect sense to the good people of Ireland.

And this marching band outfit must tell us a great deal about the country of Mauritius, but I can’t look at it without singing “76 Trombones”. 

Finland is really Narnia? That’s all I’ve got.

And maybe Germany is known for their lavish, Vegas-style reviews...I had no idea.

I’m sure that this costume worn by Miss China really does have some interesting meaning and I’d love to know all about it - but the face freaks me out a little.

I see that Miss Canada is carrying a big maple leaf, but I don’t understand the rest.  Again, maybe it has something to do with natural resources, or the different provinces...or maybe those are just hockey pucks.  I need a guide to help me appreciate all of these.  I’m grateful for the costumes that are obvious. 

I’m not a fan of Miss USA, but I certainly understand her costume.  She’s a rose.  The rose is our national flower. Got it.  I do think she could have leaned more toward elegance and less toward stripper.  Perhaps a slim green dress, sleeves embroidered with leaves...

I think that Miss Japan is probably supposed to represent one of the popular anime characters that her country has made so popular, right?   

Another stumper was Miss Great Britain.  

She’s celebrating the 100th anniversary of women getting the vote in her country, bravo! But why the giant purple wings and emerald green flamenco dress?  I need to know the story. And Miss Kazakhstan looks like she took a page out of South America’s playbook.   Is she a hawk?  She looks like she’s wearing golden armor.  Maybe a mythical figure?  

I loved Miss Nepal’s costume, representing the Buddhist goddess Avalokitesvara, who  is a symbol of compassion and grace.  It looks like there are dharma wheels embroidered on her costume and probably more details that are meaningful but I don’t understand.  I like it. 

  On the other hand(s)  Puerto Rico’s costume is almost scary. I’m guessing that it may have something to do with Hurricane Maria, or maybe Puerto Ricans are very, very proud of their giant hands.

  Gosh, I’ve rambled too long and I still have more to share.  I won’t subject you to another twenty pictures - maybe I’ll add them at a later date in another post.  I should probably just leave you here with the winning costume.  Here’s Miss Laos and company.

I thought that perhaps it had something to do with a national theater or traditional puppetry, but apparently it’s based on “the mythical Kinnaree, a half-bird/half-woman that features in the country’s diverse Buddhist and ancient Hindu-influenced alongside various tribal and animist spiritual beliefs”.  Got it. From where I’m sitting it’s pretty cool, and you can never go wrong draping yourself in gold.   I’ll wrap up this knucklehead review by saying that I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of this year’s Miss Universe pageant.  Every gown, every costume, every question and answer session - fabulous!  I always pick a favorite gown, and this year’s is probably Miss Curacao.   There was never a moment where a gown took my breath away, but Miss Curacao got everything right - her hair, her earrings, and this gown are a trifecta of glamour.

From costumes to crowns, there it is.  Now I have to get back to reality and go clean bathrooms.  Maybe I’ll make myself a tinfoil crown and put on some fancy earrings.  Won’t Mickey be surprised?