Finally: The long awaited quasi-conclusion to this most quirky and entertaining read penned by our own cherished and beloved Pervert Q. Savant. Why quasi? Because you don’t know P. Q. like I do and I kinda-sorta like Cherie and the gang. Don’t you?

by Pervert Savant

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

The Gut-Wrenching Story of a Naive Pre-Operative Transsexual Enmeshed in a Fetid Web of Corruption and Intrigue while Performing Humanitarian Services within the Sordid Confines of the Texas Penal System!

CHAPTER III: Stress-Reduction in the Warden’s Office

Prison Nurse Cherie D’Amour had just finished putting a second coat of “Love That Red” on her exceedingly long fingernails when she got word that Warden W. Lester McCobb wanted to see her. Her nails were at a critical stage and the thought of having to visit with The Warden at that juncture did not sound particularly inviting. Cherie knew, however, that important people often had to be humored.

She carefully reinserted the brush-end of the applier back into its bottle of lacquer and meticulously tightened the lid. She then splayed her fingers in front of her lips (which were tastefully lined and painted in the same ruby tint as her nails) and softly blew on them to hurry along the drying process. A summons from The Warden was an important thing, Cherie knew. But so was a proper finish on her nails.

Cherie had found the call from the Warden to be inconvenient for other reasons. She had only managed to read 8 of the “14 Secrets to Drive Your Man Wild in Bed” – the feature article of her current copy of Cosmopolitan. “Secret #8 – Cover Yourself with Hershey’s Syrup and Be Chocaholics Together!” – sounded intriguing to Cherie.

“I wonder if they have any of that Hershey’s syrup in the dining hall?” she chuckled. “I’ll have to ask Cookie the next time I see him.”

Cherie really wanted to finish the article. She was looking forward to learning what the remaining secrets were.

Her further researches were abruptly aborted, however, when she heard the prison intercom system crackle again:

“Nurse D’Amour, please report to Warden McCobb’s office immediately…Nurse D’Amour, to the Warden’s office!”

“Oh drat!” complained Cherie. “What’s The Warden in such a damned hurry for?”

Cherie blew on the ends of her fingers again despairingly, closed her open Cosmo with her elbows, and then maneuvered it to a point on the edge of her table that allowed her to grasp it without smearing her polish. She gingerly picked the magazine up without allowing her nails to touch its glossy cover and then tucked it under her armpit.

“I guess I should be thankful that The Warden waited until AFTER I waxed my bikini line, “ Cherie sniffed petulantly. “Men have no idea what we women have to go through to stay attractive. No, we just have to always be at their beck and call whenever they want us And we better look damn nice while we’re doin’ it, too.”

Remembering not to touch anything with her still-wet fingers, Cherie swiveled out of her chair and began a long saunter to the Warden’s office. When she finally reached the entryway to his office, The Warden’s secretary, Tansy Delgado, a middle-aged Hispanic woman, motioned her to come in.

“The Warden he ben wanteeng to see you all morneeng,” said Tansy. “But don’ go heen chust yet. He haf an eemportant phone call now and he tell me he coodna be deestoorbud.”

Cherie nodded understandingly at Tansy and took a seat on a poorly upholstered vinyl sofa located immediately adjacent to The Warden’s door. Cherie demurely crossed her legs at the knee and carefully reopened her Cosmo to “Secret #9: Paint a Cheerful ‘Happy Face’ on the Head of His Manhood!”

“Hmmm, I’ve never thought of doing that one, Cherie giggled. How naughty!”

“I theek heets hokay you go een now, honey,” interrupted Tansy. “The Warden’s phone a-light eet ees off. Eet looks like hee’s alla feeneesh weeth hees call.”

Cherie smiled politely to Miss Delgado, gave her a breathy “Thank yew!” and sashayed to the door that was the entrance to The Warden’s sanctum. Still unsure about the state of her polish, Cherie turned the knob extra-carefully and eased the door open.

Upon entering, the Warden, for some reason, was nowhere in sight — leaving Cherie momentarily confused.

“Warden? Warden? Are you in here?”

McCobb’s head then giraffed upwards from behind his desk.

“Godammit! Why didn’t Tansy tell me you were coming in? Just a goddamned minute!”

McCobb’s head abruptly disappeared behind his desk again. The disappearance was immediately followed by the sound of loose change tinkling and keys jangling together in pockets. There was also some muffled grunting.

Cherie, puzzled, moved to the chair in front of McCobb’s desk, smoothed her skirt, and sat down. A dog-eared copy of “Penthouse” lay open on top of McCobb’s desk. The page that was open displayed an advertisement for “Hot Barely Legal Cheerleader Phone Sex.” Cherie noted that the ad in view had been neatly circled with what appeared to be a neon-orange Magic-Marker.

Cherie had no time to read any more of the ad before McCobb’s corpulent body popped up again from behind his desk. The full view he now offered was that of the usual Warden W. Lester McCobb, except that — as Cherie immediately noted — the fly of his pants was disturbingly agape. The opening underneath his paunchy midsection was all the more noticeable due to a swatch of shiny fabric that was poking though the gap. The fabric displayed, Cherie astutely noted, was in McCobb’s favorite color – “Fire-Engine Red.”

McCobb quickly picked up the open Penthouse, swept it perfunctorily into the top drawer of his desk, and then eased his plump buttocks back into his chair. He then adjusted his glasses and fixed his gaze on Cherie’s crossed legs, which faced him from another chair immediately opposite his desk.

The sight of Cherie’s legs seemed to have a calming effect on McCobb, as his earlier disturbed outrage turned swiftly apologetic.

“I’m real sorry, sugar. I didn’t mean to sound so nasty a minute ago. It’s just that the personnel situation around here sometimes gets me a little riled. I’ve told Tansy a million times to buzz me before she sends in a visitor. Damned Latinos. They never listen to nobody!”

“Oh, that’s all right, Warden. I knew yew weren’t mad at little ole me,” Cherie cooed. “Yew just have lotsa important responsibilities and all. I understand.”

“Yer darn right I do, sweet cheeks,” McCobb nodded, pleased that Cherie recognized his importance at the institution. “Not just anybody can run a prison, y’know. It takes trainin’ and brainpower. This is one high-stress profession.”

“I’m sure it is, honey. Yew don’t have to tell me. But if you’re feelin’ all stressed-out, why, yew should just come on down to the dispensary and let me give yew another one of my soothin’ massages. Didn’t my last one relax yew?”

“It did indeed, dew drop. An’ I might just take yew up on that offer real soon,” McCobb grinned, his tobacco-stained smile revealing his sincere pleasure at the prospect.

“Yes, a massage sounds real good,” McCobb chortled. “But we got some bidness to attend to right tcheer before we can get inta relievin’ my stress. Biff said yew had to patch up Alejandro Acevedo last night.”

Cherie eyed her nails warily, wondering if, by now, their deep red lacquer had at long last hardened.

“Yes sir, I did. Biff brought him down to the infirmary after he got into it with his little brother. I swear, Warden, those Mexican boys in Block Seven are a rambunctious group. You might wanta have a word with ‘em. I really don’t think they’re on the right track for full rehabilitation.”

Cherie tentatively tested her left thumbnail with the tip of her right index finger. She was pleased to see that it had completely dried.

“Well, maybe I will do just that, cupcake. But right now I’ve got a little problem with Austin about that knifin’. See, that wuz the fourth one this month. I gotta send the Superintendent another one of them goddam reports and I think when he hears about it this time they’ll be sending an inspector down pronto to poke around.. Hell, I don’t need that. I mean, WE don’t need that. After all, we’re all family here at this prison, ain’t we sweetheart?” McCobb mewled.

“Well, of course we are, Warden. Why, everyone loves yew here. No one would want yew to get into trouble with all those ole State inspectors. Where do they get off inspectin’ you, anyway? I get so tired of ’em. They’re always pokin’ their big ole noses into things that don’t concern them one bit,” Cherie concurred, still eyeing her nails but trying to sound sympathetic.

“But Warden, what can we do? Right now Alejandro has a big ole hole in his belly. An’ if those State people come down and take a peek, why they’d have to be kinda dumb not to notice it. And besides, every time they come down here they always wanta see Doc Lumley’s reports and all my nursin’ records. I mean, when they read those they’re gonna know about Alejandro. I mean, They just will.”

Her moment of polite commiseration over, Cherie turned her full focus to her other nails, noting with satisfaction, after checking them, that they were dry too.

“Well, I hear what you’re sayin’ sugar-drop,” McCobb wheedled. But maybe if you and the Doc’s reports kinda downplayed what happened to Alejandro last night — well, maybe those Austin fellers wouldn’t haveta come all the way out here. Y’know what I mean? Maybe those reports could just say Alejandro had some kinda accident. Like maybe he slipped and fell on a crucifix while he was prayin’ in the chapel or something.”

At the mention of a crucifix, McCobb displayed his yellowed teeth — which lit up his pinkish face like a burst of fading sunshine. A crucifix was the only object remotely resembling anything pointed in the prison that wasn’t technically off-limits to the convicts. McCobb was pleased that he had thought of it.

“So couldn’t ya jus’ help me out on this here one lil’ ole problem? Jus’ this one time, honey?” McCobb inveigled. “Like I said, we’re all good friends here, ain’t we?”

Cherie sighed. “Well, I dunno, Warden. I mean this isn’t the first time I’ve helped yew out cuz we wuz such good friends. Remember? There was that other time when Biff hit that one con with her nightstick cuz he wasn’t movin’ fast enough for her? She busted his head open like it wuz a Halloween punkin, an he’s never been the same. Yew know that fella still thinks he’s the Virgin of Guadalupe. That time, yew had me say he slipped on his soap in the shower. I didn’t think that was right sayin’ that, but I did it for yew cuz we wuz friends and cuz yew asked.”

“Aw, yeah honey. I member that. That was real nice of ya. An’ I appreciated it. An I still appreciate it. But I jus’ need yew to do me this one other lil ole favor too. It’s jus’ a teensy ole thing to do, an’ it’ll keep those Austin boys away. Besides, don’t I always do nice things for yew?”

A flash of inspiration crossed The Warden’s sallow face and he began rooting again in the area behind his desk.

“Hey, cutie-pie, that reminds me, McCobb wheedled. I got a little somethin’ for ya. A little somethin’ from my trip to Waco. I almost forgot. Look, here it is, right tchyeer.”

McCobb emerged from behind his desk with a large package prominently swathed in Victoria’s Secret gift-wrapping.

“Awww, yew remembered, Warden. Ain’t yew the sweet one!” Cherie gurgled.

“I couldn’t get watcha wanted in that lilac color though, sugar. ‘Fire-Engine Red’ was the only one they had it in, “ McCobb lied.

“Oh …well…shoot…I guess Fire-Engine Red’ll jus’ hafta do then.” Cherie sniffed, mildly disappointed.

“I knew yew’d be a friend ta me on this, sugar, “ McCobb smarmed. “Now, yew jus’ take yore little present an’ leave that ole nursin’ report about Alejandro all to me. When it’s all typed up and pretty like, I’ll jus’ have Tansy let yew know, and yew can come on in and sign it. I’ll also have a word with Doc Lumley about his report too.”

Cherie smiled her nicest smile at the Warden, picked up her package, and started to leave.

“Wait, there’s one more thing I have for ya, sweetness,” said McCobb, rising from his chair and accompanying Cherie to the door. Lowering his voice conspiratorily, he whispered:

“I’ll maybe be down for that massage a bit later this afternoon.”

“Okey-dokey, Warden,” Cherie whispered back. “An’ I’ll have everything ready. I’ll even have Cookie warm up the Mazola Oil — jus’ the way you like.”

“Yew jus’ do that, blossom,” grinned McCobb. “An’ mebbe yew could wear that little thingie I bought ya too!”

Then, to Cherie’s surprise, The Warden reached out, grabbed her left nipple with two of his stubby fingers, and gave it an affectionate parting twist.

Yesterday for me was what one might call “brittle.” Blame it on the weather (more snow…believe it or not), the temperature (one degree Fahrenheit…I kid you not) and a bit of a spat with a friend (which we will not discuss). My intent was to work up a storm, whispering filthy, dirty things into the ears of good boys trying desperately to be bad. To do it over and over and over again.

Alas, my self-indulgent mood-spasm got in the way and I did no such thing. Instead –which isn’t such a bad thing for me and my “bigger life picture”– I attended to a lot of fringe personal and fringe professional stuff that had been floating around, yet weighting me down.

A few items of good news, so let me catch you up, okay?

First: SuperVert, who is an official Zen Savant (Deviant Savant) and very good friend, did a New Year’s eve blog entry for the loners out there (of which I was one) and mentioned the gauntlet I threw down during the holidays. Did you know that I am the first and only “official” Phone Sex Operator his site PervScan has ever had? Do you know how special that makes me feel? How grateful? How lucky? How blessed? Because Mr. Vert is simply divine in every way, dontcha know?

Then: Coming soon to an Amazon.com near you: A poem (I Love You With All of my Hard-On), a short story (Mary’s Queer) and two of my essays (Do I Need a New Job or What? and Please Pass the Egg Nog: Pornography or Porn-not-graphy?) are going to be featured in a new Sex Kitten book, to be published this spring, Riding the Knot in Our Collective Shorts: A collection of rants and erotica. So a lady can get pissed and then have masturbatory make-up sex. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? I can’t wait to read it myself!

And: Thanks to a loyal reader/caller who kindly pointed me in the proper direction, else I might have missed this one. The edgy, progressive and hip sex-zine, Fleshbot actually blogged my blog in one of their ultra-cool Sex Blog Roundups! This particular Roundup, subtitled Pornified Edition (proving I am not the only one to make up words to fit my mood, need, or intent), was courtesy of Chelsea Girl who happens to be a mighty fine writer with a blog of her own, pretty dumb things. I’ve added her to my links under Hot Blogs, because she is a phenomenal writer. She dresses it down as every day prose, but don’t let her fool you…her words are pure poetry. Check her out, because there just might be a test. And with that test there just might be a surprise.

So there you have it: While a bit of personal and professional detritus has been taken care of and life is a bit lighter now, I’m still basically snowed in. Since it’s cold enough to freeze your coochie off, I’m burning logs in my fireplace. Deviant Savant is wonderful as always. I’m about to be published in a real book for a second time. And I’ve been officially “pornified” by FleshBot.

One more thing: I found the coolest Erica Jong quote which I’ve added to Zen Wisdom…

xo, Angela

Regarding these fantasies, excuse me while I repeat myself ‘cuz you’ve heard it from me before: Don’t try this at home.

At least that’s my personal take on these very dirty, very erotic, very hot and very taboo “phone sex adventures.” While I delight in creating each and every little filthy facet of this particular brand of mind-fuck, I do believe it should remain purely fantasy and nothing more. But then again…what do I know?

If you don’t know what cuckold means, well you really should do a search on it. It is one of the more popular topics of phone-sex conversation currently and is making a lot of money for webmasters providing videos and such. Basically, a cuckold is the male in a marriage or even boyfriend-girlfriend relationship who accepts that his female counterpart has sex with other men. From there, anything can happen. And I might add, it usually does.

Anyway, as you already know, I believe that a good fantasy (via phone or even a written bit of erotica) should be as close to real as possible. Now those who call me on the kink-O-phone know that I’m a stickler for the details, the minutia, the things around the edges that breathe life into the general desire. Put meat on the bone, so to speak.

I think I come pretty close to getting the job done. At least for a little while. Cuckolding is particularly fun for me and I think that this is because of what I said earlier: Anything can happen. And it usually does.

For example…

• The husband may or may not participate in the actual sex between the woman and her lover.
• If he does participate, it may be to fuck her after the lover has cum in her. Or it might be to insert the lover’s penis into his wife. Or it may be to clean up the “mess” that is left you-know-where when all is said and done.
• The husband might be in a chastity device and denied sexual fulfillment. (Which is certainly not the case in real-life cuckold situations you can bet your bottom dollar.)
• He might be in a chastity device but permitted to remove it once the lover has satisfied his wife/girlfriend to relieve himself in a variety of ways: Masturbating in a corner (I like this one a lot.), the wife/girlfriend masturbating him while she tells him how that “big cock” felt so good and made her cum so hard, or he may be permitted to masturbate and cum on his own face.
• There is also many times a strain of homosexuality running through the cuckold fantasy in which the cuckold might have to suck the lover’s cock to get it hard for his wife or suck her juices off of the cock, etc.
• The cuckold might be forced to wear panties.
• The woman might have a baby with her lover, and the cuckold takes responsibility for raising the little hellion.
• Humiliation can be very much a part of this fantasy, whereas the cuckold is told his “cock is too little” or “you are a poor excuse for a man” or “you have never satisfied me.”

And then besides a whole lot of other directions we might choose there is the black lover — a predominant archetype in cuckold fantasies. Me? Although I do the black thing well, I really don’t personally get it. But then, like I said earlier, what do I know? I’m just a dumb white girl from Appalachia trying to make it in the big city.

But I do abhor the “N” word; I detest it and the history of bigotry underlining it. So to have this as part of a fantasy request is difficult for me. Not too long ago a gentleman purporting to be African American/Hispanic called asking me to verbally humiliate him by calling him names which included n***er and sp**. He was extremely irate when I refused to do so.

But here is what he didn’t know and will never be smart enough to understand:

Angela St. Lawrence and the characters she creates are not one and the same. What I as a responsible person and member of the human race say and what a person in one of my fantasies says are not one and the same. In fact, the morals, values, ethics, etc. of me and the fictional he/she in the “story” are usually at totally opposite ends of the spectrum.

Of course we are all different and our feelings about this complex issue come from various emotional and personal experiences. The words we choose, what they mean to us, how we use them and why we use them evolve from those experiences and are unique to each of us.

A few years back my friend, Katie, and I were sitting in a restaurant when Jonathan and his friend, Tyler, (whom we did not know) stopped by our table to visit. Both were more than a bit inebriated and very funny. We were enjoying their company very much when Jonathan and Katie stepped away from the table for some reason. Did I mention that Jonathan and Tyler were Afro-American? Anyway, Tyler looks at me and–obviously under-the-influence stupid (we’ve been there, right?)–blurts out, “How would you like a big, purple, n***er cock?” I was floored. And embarrassed…as quite a few people at other tables heard him.

My point? Men of color –particularly young men of color– sometimes use “naughty” words. (And so do men and women under the influence. But that’s another discussion entirely.) And thus, so do some of my African American fantasy-boy-creations. They use very dirty, filthy, shocking nomenclature, adjectives, adverbs and verbiage to get their point (a small pun there) across, the deed done, the slit-slut fucked.

So, yes, if you call me with a cuckold fantasy in which a hot button for you is the “N” word, you just might hear it! Just not from me…but from Keith or Maurice or Thomas or James. Those big, bad, ebony-skinned studs with cocks that are almost always the size of small submarines, who want to fuck your wife until she walks like a cowgirl. But, certainly, never from me.

Got it? Cuz they did. (wink, wink)

Now, get outta here already.

xo, Angela

And water-proof too!

(Thanks to HDB for the pic.)

xo, Angela

Yes, I am cranky at times. But you do so love me, dontcha? Just admit it; you know that you do.

The above button was sent by my sister (I have more…just you wait.), once again from her intra-office email. Because what else is corporate America doing these days but playing on the internet? We who work on the net don’t find the silliness of email play quite so fascinating.  In fact emails can be quite a royal pain.

So what might a naughty & nice gal like myself have to be cranky about? Well…

• Foxfire, which is usually awesome and I highly recommend as your browser of choice, actually lost all my bookmarks. I was furious and in a panic, as I tend to get with technical fuck-ups. But a good geek boy fixed it for me. (Thanks!)
• I gave away way too much money recently –Christmas, don’t you know?– and I just checked my bank balance. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
• More snow tomorrow. (Dear God: Enough with the snow already! It was a nice touch for the holidays, but I’ve got places to go and people to see.)
• I figured out how to replace my ink cartridges in my printer only to have the stupid thing start telling me there was a paper jam and there wasn’t. I swear there wasn’t. That one just about did me in. But it is better now. Thanks again to good geek boy.
• I want a new car and a new condo. Girls who want such big ticket items need to learn to save their money rather than giving it away. I’m trying.

But I have lotsa good stuff happening too…and I happen to have a very appreciative heart despite my whining. I am gifted in that I can be cranky and happy at the same time.

And speaking of being gifted: As far as gifts went, I had the best Christmas since my childhood. And I do have awesome friends. Richard, Deviant Savant, Mistress V and Lyndee are just a few who come to mind.

And then there are my beloved callers who are just so fucking smart and downright adorable. I do believe that I have the cream of the crop when it comes to clientele. Just look at the commentary here at my blog. And they always say the nicest, sweetest things about me.

And I have a new hairdo which is simply fab!

***

By the way. Luscious Lyndee has been a very busy girl lately. She has a totally redesigned site, which you can see my clicking the above link. She also has recorded two fantasies which sound pretty interesting. I just might listen myself. You can find them here. But the biggest news is her new website, Pink Panty Cafe for sissies and panty boys. Make sure to check it out and visit often if you thrill to the idea of dressing up for a Mistress or lover or even a group of mean girls.

And if you are a PSO or owner/operator of an adult site looking for a talented, committed and creative webmaster to design your website, blog or even help you with HTML, check out Designs by Lovies. She is the wunderkind who took Lyndee’s ideas and brought them to fruition.

I am off to bed. Wish me sweet dreams. Or at least a few dirty ones.

xo, Angela