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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  ...


Archive for November, 2012

i wish for us

Thursday, November 22nd, 2012

that the mud and the muck
of this fallen down
fallen world
falls away from us

that once and forever
we brush it gone
caked bits of weightless dreck
remnants of nothingness
like we always knew we could

that we hold wonder in our fists
both precocious and precious
in same holy measure
our apposite hoard

that we reach into our pockets
finding those moonstruck dreams
right where we left them
our chimerical medleys

that from here to there
and everywhere betwixt
with every brethren fellow
brows un-knit
shoulders un-square
breaths un-clench

that we might
disburdened and unweighted
absolved and attended
unloosed from our ligatures
renewed of our fortitude
resolute in our sovereignty

give thanks
give thanks
give thanks

Thanksgiving 11/22/12
Angela St. Lawrence

Unzip with my Erotic Audio Sale

Tuesday, November 20th, 2012


A Thanksgiving Erotic Recording $uper $ale

Now thru Sunday

(11/19/12 — 11/25/12)

All Audios only $1.00 per minute

Plus 5 FREE minutes to talk with me live


The Tease: Listen to me make him SQUIRM

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Naughty Neighbor: He’s such a bad boy!

Call Button……………………………………………………………………………………………

Strap-On Play:  Listen to Sissy get her medicine

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I Own Him:  Listen to the Real Deal

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Catholic School Girl Gone Bad:  True Story

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I won’t be working Thanksgiving day, though I’d rather be.  I’ll be spending the morning with my mother and afternoon with my brother and other family members.   They respect what I do, but talking dirty around the Thanksgiving table would be a tad impolite.  Don’t you think?

But I will be available through the entire holiday week/weekend, at least as much as I can be.

I hope you take advantage of this sale as many of these are actually at half the regular price.

If you do listen in, you can leave feedback (5 stars, of course :-D) here.

Gratuities are welcome, but never expected.  Of course, they’re deeply appreciated.  You can find my tip buttons here.

If you’d like to show your appreciation with an Amazon gift card, which feeds my always ravenous book obsession, click here.

I will be sending 5 free minutes to anybody who listens to an audio for at least 5 minutes and to anyone who calls me live and speaks for at least 10 minutes.

xo, Angela

This happens every single day …

Monday, November 19th, 2012

… at my house.

The Tray Holder

November 2012

by Slave N for Miss Angela


When the doorbell rang I waited for a signal from Mistress Angela. She slowly finished polishing her last two toenails in fiery burgundy, closed the fingernail polish bottle carefully, and folded her iPad shut putting it on the coffee table in front of her. She leaned back on the cream colored sofa pillows and pulled on the long leather strap that was tied to the collar around my neck. I looked at her dutifully and waited. She tousled her hair, looked at her toenails, and waved in the direction of the door.

I walked to the door making sure I was following Mistress Angela’s training. I was not allowed to wobble on my five inch heels (ten lashes if I did), my seamed stockings had to be perfectly straight (ten lashes for each unruly seam) and I had to make very crisp sounds on the wooden floor as I walked around (twenty lashes if my steps were not clearly audible).

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Ken and Javier.” answered two voices.

I paused for two beats and then opened the door.

“Mistress Angela has been expecting you, please come in.” I said opening the door wider and standing aside.

Two tall men entered. Both were about six feet, in excellent physical shape. The man with the copper skin was clearly Javier. Jet black hair, green eyes and a square jaw, clearly Mistress Angela’s type. Ken, with a hint of Japanese or Korean features and sporting tortoise shell eyeglasses was more of a hippie type, with his brown hair in a ponytail.

“May I take your jackets, gentlemen?” I asked.

They looked at each other, then at Mistress Angela and then burst laughing.

“Angela, c’mon! How do you have the heart to do this?”

Mistress Angela pulled on the long leather strap enough to get it waving, enough to get my attention. I turned to her. She leaned her petite face pensively on her hand.

“Well, this is Nicolette. She used to be Nick once. He was always attracted to strong women. When we met, he gradually realized that deep down he had always craved for a mistress, and that I was who he wanted to serve. Now he wants nothing other than to be my slave.”

Mistress Angela fanned the folds of her flowery dress slowly, deliberately feigning a casual girlishness. The two men looked at her like hungry wolves. I could see their cocks bulging in their tight pants. These fools were oblivious of what they were in for and how demanding my mistress could be.

“Turn around Nicolette,” Mistress Angela commanded, “slowly so that they can appreciate your dedication.”

I carefully made sure that my ponytail buttplug was firmly in place and then I slowly turned around.

“Every day Nicolette wears a wig that I choose for her. I do her makeup myself. She loves extra-long eyelashes and very dramatic lip gloss because she is an utter and complete slut. Then she gets into her French maid corset. She is not allowed to wear a bottom, because at all times, all times, I want to see her horsehair ponytail waving around and I want her cute butt-cheeks to be exposed to my wrath. Besides, I want to enjoy the sight of her cock in the male chastity cage I bought for her. She must wear seamed silk stockings and five inch heels at all times. And she knows the price of unruly seams.”

Mistress Angela paused.

“Isn’t that right, Nicolette?”

“Yes Mistress,” I answered.

“Why is his cock so purple?” asked Javier.

“Because my dear boy, Nicolette knows what is about to transpire here, and she is getting aroused, and that is causing her cock to strain against the chastity cage. In fact Nicolette has not been allowed to pleasure herself for the last five weeks, so pretty much anything will arouse her by now.”

“So this dude is not allowed to jerk off?”

“Of course not, Ken, you silly goose. And by the way, Nicolette is not a ‘dude’ she is a pussy and cock-craving sissy slut. Now, Nicolette has learned the hard way that she can orgasm only when I let her. If she comes without my permission, it’s thirty five lashes.”

“What’s the worst this poor sissy ever got?”

“Ah,” Mistress Angela smiled, slowly taking off her light lavender shirt as she spoke, and letting her perfect breasts come out in their perky fullness, “Nicolette made the mistake of stealing the key to her chastity device and jerk off while I was masturbating in my bed. I caught her peeking through my door, and fifty lashes it was right there and then. She could not sit down for two weeks.”

Mistress Angela cupped her breasts in her hands.

“So do you boys insist on talking about my sissy slave, or are you going to complement me on the bronze glitter I painted my nipples with?”

The two men were waiting for this ever since they had come in. They turned away from me and started crossing the living room to where my mistress was seated, when she stopped them cold.

“Wait!” she said to both, raising a perfectly manicured finger in warning. Both men froze, confused.

“Nicolette!” and she clapped her hands.

“Yes Mistress?”

“Please start the fireplace, and bring us some wine.”

I walked to the fireplace and started it with a flick of a switch.


“Yes Mistress?”

“Are you checking the cocks of my two men?”

“No Mistress… Yes Mistress.”

“Do you like cock Nicolette?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“I see you have learned the value of telling the truth. I like big cocks too. Nothing wrong with that. As long as you remember that these two cocks and all cocks in this house belong to me. Now, fetch us our wine.”

My mistress kept her bottles of wine in a controlled temperature cabinet in the kitchen. I took several bottles of red wine out, put them carefully on an oblong silver tray, added three goblets and several carefully folded napkins to the tray and walked back to the living room making sure that my back was straight and my heels clicked. By now both men had stripped naked. It was amazing how quickly men disrobed for my mistress.

What was even more impressive was the cocks of these two men. Mistress Angela was known for her appetite for well-endowed men, and these two were no exception. Javier’s cock was the color of butter pecan and thick and about nine to ten inches long, but it was Ken who was sporting a massive cock, a creamy bruiser easily eleven inches or longer with a cock-head the size of a peach.

“Wine, gentlemen?” asked Mistress Angela playfully.

As I carefully poured the wine in the elegant goblets Mistress Angela took off her skirt in one smooth motion, revealing her carefully trimmed bush.

“Drink your wine, boys,” she said playfully, “as I prepare myself for you.” And with that she slid one long finger into the folds of her sweetness, gently rubbing herself for all to see.

With her eyes closed Mistress Angela kept masturbating until she started moaning softly. The two men looked at her petite body with its exquisitely feminine lines, her perfect breasts softly shaking as she pushed her fingers deeper and deeper. How could they hold back at the sight of such perfection? Mistress Angela’s alabaster skin reflected the warm flames of the fireplace, her smooth legs and toned arms teasing and inviting, her black hair shimmering in glory. I almost felt bad for these two men, for having to wait this long. But I knew the drill, it was my mistress who was in charge.


“Yes Mistress?”

“The candle tray!”

“Yes Mistress.”

I walked to Mistress Angela’s bedroom, noticing with immense pride that Javier was sneaking quick looks at my ponytail buttplug. I felt my heart rush, and my cock ache even stronger as it tried to struggle against the fiberglass restraints. Here was Javier with his immense meat, looking at my butt. He was finding me desirable. In a flash I imagined holding all that meat in my hand, stuffing it in my mouth, getting it wet and inserting it into my arsehole. And then the sharp pain of my cock straining against its cage brought me back to reality. It was time for the candle tray.

Mistress Angela’s bedroom, more beautiful and sumptuous than a Sultan’s quarters was where the ceremonial tray sat, the tray I had grown to both love and hate. It was a round copper tray, about forty inches in diameter, which I cleaned and polished every day. On this tray, every day without fail, I placed Mistress Angela’s favorite candles.

My mistress loved her candles, while masturbating, while taking a bath, while reading and while having sex. Mistress Angela believed that the mystical light of fifty or so different candles bathed everything in an erotic chiaroscuro that allowed her deepest desires to float upward and out, and helped her reach sexual peaks known to few women on earth.

I was allowed to carry this tray in one way and one way only: I had to put my arms under it and carry it everywhere like a precious and delicate baby. And so I did. By the time I had entered the living room I could see that Mistress Angela’s thighs were shimmering with her sacred vaginal juices.


“Yes Mistress?”

“Light the candles!”

“Yes Mistress.”

To light the candles I had to use a long box of matches that was by the fireplace. Walking there and back I could be sure beyond doubt that Javier was looking at me.

My back was to the room while lighting to candles when I heard my mistress speak in a bemused tone.


“Yes Angela?”

“Are you checking out my slave? I did not know you liked sissies.”

“Well, er-, you know,” he stuttered.

“Please spit it out Javier! You know I have no time or patience for people who cannot articulate their sexual desires!”

“Well, he, she, whatever, is so hell-bent on looking like a woman that he is far more attractively and sexually dressed than most women. And the way he carries himself, walking like a woman and all, and that nice ass!”

“Yeah,” Ken joined, “I mean a hole is a hole. How about we spit roast her Javier? You fuck her mouth and I fuck her ass? Did you notice how expertly she is making that ponytail wave around suggestively? She is really pissing me off. We need to fuck this sissy dry, to teach this fuckhole a lesson, sashaying those hips around like a dirty slut. If she wants to be a slut then we need to treat her like one.”

“Boys, boys! Enough! You are so horny you are being dumb enough to think that I will let you have my sissy! He is mine! He belongs to me!”

She paused. I knew what was coming now.

“However, you are going to really enjoy what comes next.”

Mistress went quiet and both men, I could tell, tensed with anticipation.


“Yes Mistress?”

“First, turn the lights off. Then, make sure these gentlemen are hard enough for me. But remember that if you get greedy and make either of them come, you will get one hundred lashes.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I used the remote to turn off the lights. The room was immediately bathed in the light of the candles and the flickering of the fireplace. Mistress Angela could not look any more divine or inviting even if she wanted to.

This was my moment, always, and I relished it. It was up to me, the sissy slut, to start the festivities. I took a few seconds to compose myself. Then I walked towards Javier slowly and deliberately, looking at his eyes. Javier was my first choice because my mouth would not contain Ken without stretching it first. Maintaining eye contact with him at all times I carefully got down on my knees in front of him.

“May I service you Sir?”

“Yeah bitch!” yelled Javier as he grabbed my hair.

“Javier!” yelled Mistress Angela.

“Yeah?” he answered sheepishly.

“If you touch my sissy again, you will never get to taste or fuck my mouth or my pussy or my ass ever!”

“OK. OK. Sorry.”

“Now my sissy is going to ask your permission to serve you, and you are going to say, ‘Yes, you may service me sissy!'”.

“OK. OK.”


“Yes Mistress?”

“Start again!”

I waited two beats as I was trained to do.

“May I service you Sir?”

“Yes, you may service me, sissy!”

“Mistress Angela, may I service this man?”

My mistress paused as Javier’s heavy cock was pointing straight at my face. Oh how devious she is, and how well she knows my heart!

“I did not hear you Nicolette.”

“Mistress Angela, may I service this man?”

“Do you promise to do a good job, but not for long enough to make him come?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Hands behind your back.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“You have my permission to service Javier’s cock.”

I clasped my hands behind my back and brought my head under Javier’s cock, using my face like a tray, to rest the full length of his cock on my mouth, nose and eyes. His testicles smelled of sandalwood, a delightful smell. I opened my mouth wide to accommodate both testicles and suck on them. His balls were taught and well trimmed, a joy to lick. But I had to control myself, otherwise Javier would come and woe unto me if that happened.

So I let go of his balls but not before giving them a few girly kisses. It was time for more. I started exploring his cock slowly with my lips and tongue, making sure I was maintaining eye contact with him throughout the ritual. Keeping my eyes fixed on his I took his cock-head in my mouth, gave it one or two quick sucks, and let it fall out. His cock was divinely heavy, a piece of meat that spoke of substance and strength. My life, I thought is so good, and with that I stuck my tongue in between Javier’s cock lips, digging it in as deep as possible, making wet sucking sounds.

“Oh oh!” he moaned and when he started thrusting his pelvis forward I immediately stopped. I have serviced enough cocks for Mistress Angela to recognize the signs of a man getting ready to lose himself in an orgasm.


“Yes Mistress?”

“You little cock-sucking bitch! I think you are enjoying this too much. Meanwhile I’m waiting here for my two cocks.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Now take care of the horse-cock over there, before he spooges all over himself.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I turned around, still on my knees, and before I could slide over Ken came over to me. Oh Ken, you beautiful divine Ken. His cock was like a small baby’s arm, cream-colored and fleshy. He too was circumcised, something I preferred for reasons of cleanliness. And clearly he did not share a shower with Javier because his cock smelled of aloe and lime. I locked my eyes into his and waited.


“Yes Mistress?”

“What are you waiting for?”

“For your permission Mistress Angela.”

“How smart you have become! I see those welts on your butt are adding IQ points to your brain.”

She paused and I waited.

“Nicolette, you have my permission.”

I waited a single beat, but not a second more.

“May I service you Sir?”

“Yes, you may service me sissy!” said Ken looking at me, his eyes flooding with desire, despite himself.

“Mistress Angela, may I service this man?”

“Well yeah, you silly sissy! Just suck him off a bit, so that I can get these two cocks in me already!”

“Yes Mistress.”

I looked at Ken and then at his almost purple cock-head. He already had drops of precum dripping from his cock. If I would touch his cock-head he would burst and then I would be punished dearly. So, as much as I wanted Ken in my mouth, as much as I wanted to stretch my mouth wide enough to contain him, to prove to myself that I was a good sissy, an excellent sissy in fact, one that could handle any size of cock in his mouth, I opted for licking the top of part of his shaft.

“Oh yes,” he groaned as I licked all along his shaft, trying not to get cross-eyed while looking at it. No one likes a cross-eyed sissy.

“Suck me sissy bitch!” Ken yelled, “Open your fucking mouth and suck me! Now!”

I gave his cock-head a quick kiss and immediately pulled back.

“Good timing Nicolette!”

“Yes Mistress.”

“And now Nicolette, you will assume your position as the tray holder.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“You may stand up and assume your true duty.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I stood up, straightened my seams, and walked over to the coffee table where the copper tray with the lit candles was resting. I lifted it carefully and then holding my palms up I slid both my arms under it. Then I assumed my position by the right hand of the sofa, my back straight and my legs tightly together.

“Behold boys,” said Mistress Angela, “the tray holder. She will light the room for us while we enjoy ourselves. A true sissy slave, obedient and selfless.”

Mistress Angela paused, then she let out a warm, throaty giggle.

“Boys, it is time for you to fuck me.”

The two men, grunting like animals, leaped on the naked body of my beautiful mistress, my mistress whom I desire more than anything, and mercilessly plunged their huge cocks into her pussy and mouth. It was beyond doubt that these two men would invade every available orifice in Mistress Angela’s body multiple times before the night would be over.

Young men in their mid-twenties are capable of summoning erections as if by magic. The night went on and on and my mistress demanded to be fucked in every opening. I stood straight the whole night, never being allowed to rest, holding the tray of candles as my mistress surrendered herself to a Bacchanal of pleasure.

It was painful and exhilarating to watch Mistress Angela’s petite body handle so much sex, with both giant cocks stretching her pussy and arsehole as far as they would go. I watched her get penetrated deeply and with force in ways that only such magnificently large cocks could. My mistress was tireless, sucking one cock while jerking off another, taking one cock in her arsehole while another pounded her pussy.

At one point Javier was holding her upside down and eating her pussy while she was servicing Ken’s enormous cock. Bathed in the light of the fireplace and the sensuous flickering of the candles, the three beautiful bodies writhed with passion as they sweated, they came and came again and even peed on each other as they let nothing hold them back. And I the tray holder watched them as they freed themselves of all inhibitions and madly celebrated all their desires.

The long night eventually came to a close after both men plundered Mistress Angela’s pussy at the same time and then stretching her anus beyond credulity they shoved both their huge cocks in her tiny arsehole. That was when my mistress surrendered herself completely and her passionate grunts turned into savage growls and screams of passion. Insatiable as she was, her two lovers were equally resilient and kept thrusting their cocks into her like crazed jackhammers.

I had stood fast throughout the night, but the site of two cocks going in and out of my mistress’ arsehole proved to be too much for me and my poor caged cock just erupted, shooting out thick rivulets of five weeks worth of semen. I was lucky that my mistress was surrounded by a sea of animalistic grunts, and busy with these two very fit men who now were slapping her face with their giant cocks. She never heard my quiet whimpering of intense pleasure and relief as my lower body twitched with twisted passion and desire and emptied itself thoroughly and blissfully.

It was almost dawn when the strains on the agility and prowess of both men took its toll and they fell back on the living room carpet, exhausted and covered in sweat, no longer able to sustain their erections any further. In moments they were asleep. My mistress, looking at her two exhausted lovers with part bemusement and part contempt, tried to reach her goblet of wine, but the goblet fell, and all she could do was fall back on the sofa and laugh. Her face, mouth, breasts, stomach and hands and her two warm holes were dripping with semen.

“Nicolette!” she commanded in a hoarse voice, drunk with many bottles of wine and magnificent, exhausting sex.

“Yes Mistress?”

“Go get a sponge and a towel for me.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I dutifully brought what my mistress had asked for, and a small wash basin with warm water mixed with peppermint Castile soap. From what I have heard this is a favorite of mistresses around the world.


“Yes Mistress?”

“Here is your prize for not screwing up during tonight – you may lick all the semen that these two virile men left all over my body. And then you may wash me gently.”

“Thank you Mistress, you are kind beyond words.”

“Is that all?”

“I will relish every drop of semen as if it is the tastiest chocolate syrup ever created.”

“Is that all?”

“You deserved every inch of cock these two men provided and every drop of semen they shot. No other woman could ever be worthy of such large, hard and magnificent cocks. I could never please you in this way, and I’m honored to have been in their presence while they pleasured you in such an extreme, beautiful and moving way.”

“Ah, a slutty slave who craves cock but knows her place. Very good. I have trained you well. You know what? You can suck their cocks clean too.”

And with that magnificent permission coming out of her trembling swollen lips, she fell into an exhausted sleep. I gathered the exhausted body of my beloved mistress in my arms, cradling her head and lifting her up carefully, and I laid her on the sofa in a more comfortable position.

This was my moment, my hour, my turn to serve the beautiful body of my precious and powerful mistress. I licked every drop of semen off her body, her pussy and her arsehole and then patted her gently with the wet sponge, making sure not to awaken her in the process.

A mistress awakened against her wishes will be invariably angry and recant the generous offerings she has made before falling asleep. I did not want my mistress to change her mind about the grandest and surprisingly benevolent permission she had given me in weeks, so I worked as if walking on eggshells. When my mistress was clean and semen free I covered her with a large soft white towel and left her to sleep on the couch.

As dawn’s very first rays of gray light peeked through the drapes, I was touched by the exhaustion of those who slept. Aware of the quiet room and the softness of early morning I felt a wave of tranquil contentment flow through me, bathing me clean down to my core. My caged cock spent and my soul at ease I relaxed and let go. I took my heels off, got on my knees and feasted on the giant cocks of Javier and Ken. They were hard no more, but they were covered in an intoxicating combination of the sweat and semen of both men and my mistress’ delicious juices.

First I rubbed their cocks all over my face, relishing their weight and strength, smelling their smells and enjoying the very texture and sweet detail of each cock. Then swallowing hard I took turns to deep throat both men. Javier, now soft, was relatively easier to gobble, but Ken was a tough sell despite the flaccid state of his enormous cock. He proved to be a challenge but ultimately not an insurmountable one.

There is no greater sense of achievement and no sweeter taste than feeling the tip of a big cock at the back of your throat early in the morning. It was while swallowing Ken’s soft monster and stroking Javier’s limp yet heavy cock, that I came again in big, thick, creamy spurts. Even though my mistress was asleep I scooped up my own semen and swallowed it greedily as she had trained me to do. If you are a good sissy, and you serve your mistress, you will have good nights such as these I thought to myself, better and more passionate nights than what most men can ever experience.

I got up, went to my bathroom, brushed my teeth, reapplied my lipstick, and straightened my seamed stockings. Then I pulled my ponytail buttplug out, cleaned it carefully, covered it with a fresh coating of Vaseline and reinserted it firmly into my snug hole.

Like any good sissy slave, once you get used to it you don’t want to let go of that bugger. Not to mention that it always reminds me to stand up straight and swing my hips like a woman, and that’s how I walked back into the living room. There, exhausted and as satisfied as I was allowed to be, I went to sleep at the safest, warmest place in the world, on the small Karastan carpet by the sofa, at Mistress Angela’s feet.



11/21/12 Breaking News:  Slave N makes the paper!

Read about it in The Sissy News.



Talking Dirty about Dirty

Monday, November 12th, 2012

You guys know I like to write dirty stories, yes?

And you like them, don’t you? Oh, don’t fib to me.  Of course you do.

How do I know?  Because you tell me!  You send me emails, comment at the Blistered Lips site (FREE SMUT from yours truly), and — when you call me — you often mention the ones that particularly tickle your kink-bone.

In fact, more than a few of you have requested I record the stories for you, so you have something to listen to while you, um, fall asleep.  So … you’re not fooling me.  (And I love you for it, sweet boys.)

Well here’s you chance to TALK LIVE with me on the radio.  Ask me questions.  Requests new stories. And if you haven’t called me before and just want to hear my voice you can even listen in anonymously. (Mr. Smith: I mean YOU!)

Tomorrow night — or tonight, if you’re reading this on Tuesday — I’m going to be letting it all hang out with a group you just might be interested in meeting.

Because …

… I will be be joining fellow Erotica writers Irv O. Neil, Ed Cantor and Porno Person on In Bed with Doctor Sue,  the blog-radio podcast show hosted by Dr. Sue Storm,  herself.

Oh yes I am.  There’s even a chat-room for the quasi-shy.  See?  Something for everybody.

So take note:

Show:  Writers of Fetish Literature presented by Doctor Sue

Day:     Tuesday (November 13, 2012)

Time:    10:00 PM (EST)

Place:    Click Here

Call in Phone Number:   (646) 478-3644

Sign-Up to Chat room:    Click Here

I hope you find the time to listen it, maybe even chat or call in.  And check out the above linkage.  These are some pretty fine people and I’m honored to hang out with them.

xo, Angela

I was in a Veteran’s Day Parade …

Sunday, November 11th, 2012

… and I liked it.

Becky was slowly coming around to accepting me as a colleague.  With seven years on me, she was the more mature one.  She was married, she had a child, she went to church regularly.

She went to Tupperware and candle parties!

I was the kid who just kept getting lucky and making those sales.  I was the girl who wore leggings and legwarmers and high top sneakers into the office, while she dressed in “appropriate office attire.”

I was very aware that she didn’t quite get me, that she kinda-sorta looked down her nose at me.  We were more-or-less tentative friends, sharing a few lunches and even going on a few sales appointments together.  She always took the commission.  I was the new kid and I kept my mouth shut.

So one day, she’s there at my desk, big friendly grin, asking me to lunch.  Asking me to lunch on her dime.  A first! Wow! Maybe she’d come around and really liked me now.

A short time later we’re sitting in a steakhouse, burgers and salads served, when she pops the question.

“I need your help this weekend. Me and a group of ladies are going to be in the Veteran’s Parade and we need someone to drive the car.”

I was floored.  Yes, Becky was ex-army. I knew that, but thought she’d left those days long behind. I mean isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?  Isn’t all that stuff rather corny? Uncool?

But I was the new kid, and I wanted Becky to like me.

So that’s how I found myself  driving a stretch limo (Becky had somehow copped it from a local funeral home) at a snail’s pace down main street one chilly Veteran’s Day while seven lady vets tittered and chattered in the seats behind me.  Out on the street in front of me, Becky and another woman proudly carried a banner (Women Veterans: Service, Honor, Courage), intermittent flurries of snow landing in their hair and atop the shoulders of their uniforms, waving to the clusters of people who’d gathered here and there along the parade’s route.

It was truly surreal. Me? In a Veteran’s Parade? Driving women in uniform, women with flags pinned to their lapels, women with — I kid you not — army, air force, navy and marine earrings?

And the people along the path?  They were waving flags, applauding, cheering, calling out “thank you” over and over again.

The silliness of it all.

And then, as I slowly rounded a corner, there he was:  tough-posed in his tight leather pants and vest, wallet chain, long dark hair streaming down his back.  Thumb tucked into belt, taking in the panorama through aviator sunglasses. Mr. Cool. Mr. ultra-hip.  Hispanic and sexy and beautiful.  You would think this would be the last place he’d be, wouldn’t you?

As the car eased up to where he was standing, Jeanette and Claudia leaned through the window, blowing kisses, waving back at the crowd.  I watched the Latino Adonis’s gaze move to our car. Slowly — because he was so sexy chichi and it’s the only way he’d ever move — he raised his arm, a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. And then …

… he gave these Veteran ladies a thumbs up!

What did I do? I started to cry; that’s what I did.

Because I finally was getting why this day was so important.  Because I was humbled that I — the all American white bread girl — had been taught, with one simple gesture, by this atypical in your face — I’m an American too so Fuck YOU — red, white and blue boy, that our Veterans rock.

But these were tough, no-nonsense gals I had in the car with me; I didn’t want to disappoint them or have them maybe tsk tsk me.  Or worse? Who knew what they might do? This was a Bitchin’ Band of GI Janes, after all.

So I wrangled a tissue from my purse, surreptitiously dabbed under my sun glasses and kept on driving.

As we got closer to downtown, the curbs began filling up, crowds of people waving flags, holding up signs (You served so we could be FREE and God Bless America and Thank you for your service and God Bless our Veterans), clapping, whistling, cheering.

Of course I was choked up, of course I was overwhelmed, of course my heart was changed, of course I grew up a little bit.

But I didn’t cry.

Until …

Around a bend again …

Three children holding up a sign.

Three round-faced smiling children, their arms stretched high, holding up that poster-board sign with the magic marker lettering slightly smeared from random snowflakes.  Sign bending in the wind as their mitten-covered hands clasped tightly to its edges.  Their mother behind them, one hand resting on the little girl’s shoulder, the other waving.

We’ll Never Forget Our Father and All Who Died to Keep Us Safe

That’s what the sign said.  Big Flag colored-in underneath, red magic marker running down from the last red stripe, dropping off the edge like a blood-red teardrop.

And that is when I lost all composure.  I sobbed.  I sniffled.  “This is so beautiful. I am so honored. Thank you, thank you,” I babbled in between hitched breaths.

Surely I was going to get it from the ladies now.  They would tell me to shape up or ship out. To stop acting like a daft willy-nilly.  To pull myself up by my bootstraps.

They were going to call Becky back to the car, and then they’d all have a laugh on me.  Later, whenever they got together for tea or bunco or whatever lady Veterans do, they would reminisce about half-witted Angela and her inability to control her emotions.  The kind of female who’d never make it in the military.

But they didn’t.  Of course they didn’t.

They handed me tissues, patted my back, comforted me.  “It’s okay, Angela.  Just be happy you’re here with us today. We’re happy you’re here with us. You know that, don’t you?”

Ms. Dannie (she was 70 plus years old and that’s what everybody called her) handed me her talcum-scented handkerchief with crocheted-lace edging.  Later, when I tried to give it back, she told me to keep it.  To keep it and always remember.

Claudia took a small box from her handbag and handed it to me.  “Here.  I was going to give these to Becky later today, but I can order another pair, so I want you to have these.  Go ahead, take them.  Open it.”  Sniffling,  I told her that I was driving and couldn’t take my hands off the steering wheel.  So she opened it for me.  “See? Now you have your own pair of Army earrings.”

I thought they were beautiful:  heart shaped enamel drop earrings with a black, gold and white star in the center, which I later learned was the army insignia.  Wow.

“I’m going to gracefully accept them,” I told her, “because I’m so grateful to be here with all of you today.  I’m so glad I came.  Thank you.”

“Sniffle, snort, sniffle.”

After the parade, Becky and the ladies dragged me to a VFW.  Yes, I was in an actual VFW.  And it was fun. There were men and women in uniform, veterans  of all ages, families of veterans, friends of veterans.  And they were partying, let me tell you! Tables had been arranged strategically and were covered with red and white checked tablecloths.  Baskets of red, white and blue flowers adorned every table.   Along a far wall, three tables were overloaded with all kinds of homemade dishes: potato salad, macaroni salad, cold cuts, fried chicken, coleslaw, cheeses, pickles, cupcakes, cookies.

Music played, a few danced, some sang.  A veteran — wrinkled and gray-haired with one leg — did magic tricks.

It was honest and it was America. Just unpretentiously real and good and sweet.

And I did put my new earrings on.   You bet I did.

Thank you to my Lady Veterans and all Veterans.  Thank you from the bottom of my not-so-egocentric-anymore heart.

With love, Angela