Mercurial Girl

2012-01-18T21:02:00.000+01:00

Saturday I went out to Andre’s shop, it had been about a month since I’d been there. In truth, for several months our relationship has been faltering. We’ve seen less of each other and looked for excuses not to see the other. Christmas was the worst I can remember, we argued on the way to Dad’s Christmas eve and on the way to his parents’ home on Christmas day. The week of 9, January, I needed to be in the US and our plans were to go early and borrow Rachel and Amy’s condo in Miami for a few days. He begged of saying he had too much to do.

As I looked around his shop I noticed the Moto Guzzi was missing and I asked him about it. “I sold it,” he replied. “When,” I asked, “before Christmas,” was his reply. This was fine, he acquired it for me, but our understanding that he could sell it, as I wasn’t interested in owning it. It was odd and telling, that he never mentioned putting it up for sale or selling it.

“Our relationship is over, isn’t it,” I asked. It was a subject that needed to be broached and one I had chosen to avoid. “Yes,” was his reply. Discussion was unnecessary, this was something we both wanted. I considered whether any of my belongings were at the shop, there weren’t and I told him that I’d send his things that were at my apartment. On the way back to the city I arranged for the locks to be changed.

This week I’ve been mourning the loss of the relationship and the what might have been, rather than Andre. He’s a nice guy and that makes it hard, he’s the kind of person that one could plan a life with. But we couldn’t.

Kim

2012-01-03T19:02:00.000+01:00

Now and then I’ve been asked to describe typical day or week. The snippy reply is that there are no typical days, but in truth there are activities that regularly repeat. One thing that causes variability in my schedule is that I travel, a lot, just over a hundred nights last year. Most of my travel is within the EU, but I travel to the US every four to six weeks, mostly NY but also Atlanta and points beyond.

Typically I’m up between 5:30 and 6:00, after taking care of my immediate needs; I throw on my running gear and take Wags out to meet his. While he’s sniffing around for a spot to relieve himself, I stretch for my run. Since I was a little girl, I’ve started my day by doing ballet exercises, now using a railing as a barre, to these I’ve added some common runner’s stretching. When both Wags and I are ready, we begin our run, a loop of about 3-5K. By seven I’m back in my apartment for breakfast, which is usually coffee, fruit juice, toast, yogurt and fresh fruit. While eating, I check and reply to email, both personal and company. I can drive my employees crazy with the things I forward along and the questions that I inevitably ask.

By quarter to nine I’m out with Wags and heading for a neighborhood cafe for a cappuccino and to catch up on the neighborhood gossip. Most days I’m biking to the office which takes about fifteen minutes, Wags still rides in the basket as he did as a pup and still howls at the cars and pedestrians.

I arrive at the office about 9:30 and start the day with a quick meeting with Mimi, so that we’re in sync. After that I shut the door and get on the phone, chat, twitter, webex, email or whatever method I need to reach clients and importantly prospective clients. Around two, I go for lunch. Thursday lunches, I save to have with one or more of my employees. This is their time and the conversation varies, sometimes business and clients, other times, their professional goals or simply current events. Friday’s lunch kicks off my weekly planning meeting Mimi, where we focus on mid and longer range goals and objectives.

Lunches earlier in the week are with business contacts or possible contacts who are sometimes clients, vendors, periodically business allies and the occasional competitor. One lunch a week I try to reserve for meetings with job applicants. We receive many resumes and portfolios from individuals looking for either contract work or employment and each week I bring in one or two of the most interesting to talk, if they are potential contractors I’ll refer them to Mimi and if she agrees we’ll add them to the mix. Those who are looking for jobs, I’ll refer to companies where I believe that they would be a fit. I’ve collected a few chits that way.

Then it is back to the office for more meetings, around five I’ll slip out for happy hour noshing and then back to the office for conference calls with clients in the US or to pick up Wags and head home. Each week there are late night conference calls that I conduct at the office or from home. Thankfully, technology allows my office to be wherever I am with a computer. Then of course there is the bottomless inbox...

Kim

2011-12-29T16:39:00.001+01:00

Around the holidays, I make an effort to call friends who I normally would keep track of via email and social networks. Its nice to hear their voices and to hear directly from them what is happening in their lives.

Today I called Irena and she was excited about the protests against Putin and the government of Russia. Most would consider her a Russian ex-pat living in Berlin, but she sees herself as more of an exile. It is not that she is afraid of traveling to Russia and she does from time to time. It is because of her business, pornography, she would be easy picking for the mafia and cleptocrats. Not that she is untouchable in Berlin, but she is too small for the mob to be bothered and the small time Russian hoodlums that would prey on her in Moscow, don’t operate freely in Germany.

“You want a country that is built on and respects the rule of law?” I asked her and after I explained what I meant, she enthusiastically said yes. For her getting rid of Putin is the place to start.

Kim

2011-12-24T08:16:00.000+01:00

On Wednesday I looked at the calendar and realized that Christmas is Sunday. Yikes!

Happy holidays to all and see you in the new year.

Hugs,

Kim

2011-12-18T20:20:00.001+01:00

The life plan that was finalized in my mind as we traveled through Russia, while at the same time that I worked on the business plan that was to become Kim & Co., featured quitting the escort racket. I had enough money to get by while the business grew, but when the relationship went asunder, I reconsidered, and on my return to Paris I took the On Vacation sign off my website and began soliciting appointments.

It was a good time to be an escort, the credit bubble was forming and the players had lots of money to spend, on luxuries, on women, on women as luxury baubles. It was a time I enjoyed, the life, the money. I invested my earnings and have done well, even considering the recession. Looking back, I know I would have burned out and likely crashed, if I hadn’t known that I had an alternative and would eventually quit, even I didn’t know when.

When I went independent, I had a small coterie of gentleman who I served. I decided that a good way to keep in touch with them and hopefully keeping their interest was a newsletter. Nothing fancy, delivered via email, an article that I’d write and a bunch of links to items of interest to men, rich men.

Cars, watches, cigars, yachts, wine etc., of course a link or an article on keeping a mistress or rental girl friends. Since one of the first clients of Kim & Co., was a automotive accessories manufacturer, I was on mailing lists for many PR departments. Embargoed information, particularly pictures sometimes made it in to my newsletter. One month I updated Helen Gurley Browns’ advice to gentleman on how to treat his mistress. That received a lot of comments. Each edition had a head and shoulders shot of me in the upper left and usually a couple of more pictures, out on the town. The newsletter was forwarded around and I received requests to add readers to the distribution list. Occasionally one would ask about Kim, which was my opportunity to suggest a rendezvous, with compensation of course.

During that time I would occasionally seek out possible clients in the wild, so to speak. Where do wealthy men go? Charity events, auctions, gallery openings, any place where I could meet someone, exchange business cards. Later I’d determine if they could afford me and I’d call them and suggest lunch, when I’d give them my pitch. At first I didn’t do this often, but by the time I decided to quit, it had become my predominant method for obtaining new clients as I’d stopped advertising and had shut down the website.

When I moved to London, I (mostly) took a sabbatical from escorting. When London turned sour, I returned to Paris and took a gentleman up on his persistent entreaties that I become his mistress. The money was good, coming as a monthly deposit in my account. But his company was an early casualty of the Great Recession and I became a luxury that he could no longer afford.

In 2009 I lowered my rates some, but refused to keep lowering them in order to maintain the same level of business. Needless to say demand was reduced, showing that the internet’s ability to turn any product or service into a commodity and exert downward price pressure is relentless. It is difficult to distinguish your service when the medium delivering your message turns it to mush. Thus I stepped up my stalking of rich men. Needless to say this was draining and has pretty much ruined any chance that I would marry wealthy Parisian. Not that I ever cared about that, but I do like options.

By the time Andre entered my life, I’d decided to let the escort business peter out. If someone called I would see him, but I had stopped looking for clients. Even though Andre knows of my past and said he was fine with my continuing, I knew that it would eventually bother him that I continued to be a whore. Relationships are complicated enough, no need to make them more difficult. So I quit.

If Andre was not in the picture and a former client suggested an assignation for old time’s sake, I would probably take him up on it. Or if a long term arrangement were to be offered, I’d consider it. But to return to being a full or part time gentleman’s companion with the advertising, recruitment and screening? No.

A note in clarification: Or perhaps a timeline. The trip to Russia and eastern Europe was the summer of 2005 and the sojourn to London was during the spring and early summer of 2007. From my return from Russia to the middle of 2008, I averaged 3-4 'dates' a month and then the number began to dwindle. In 2010, there were 4 dates with three men.

Kim

2011-12-17T08:10:00.000+01:00

Maybe I'll be insulted

When I stop laughing.

Kim

2011-12-09T16:03:00.000+01:00

Istanbul is fascinating. Not that I had a chance to explore. We stayed at an international chain hotel near the airport and the places that we had our meetings, could have been edge cities anywhere. But the travel to and from... I can’t wait till I can go back and I want to stay for a while.

Doha was, hmmm interesting. Its odd, this modern city that is seemingly populated by expatriates. Everyone we met and virtually everyone we saw, were foreigners. I’m interested in returning to Qatar also.

The Dubai meetings didn’t happen, their schedule wouldn’t allow it so we returned Friday. Fortunately my contacts will be in London next week, so we will meet there. Early in the week I came down with a bug, too many long days and the travel caught up with me.

I do have this unfulfilled wanderlust. I dream about wandering across the globe. Stopping and staying for awhile at places that I find interesting and then moving on. In an alternate life I guess. I made choices and now I’m living with them.

Kim

2011-11-26T14:24:00.000+01:00

Another Paris Thanksgiving in the books. Grace and family arrived early in the week. Grace met with me and Mimi about business, Robert met with a few Paris banksters so only Robby’s airfare won’t be a tax deduction. Grace announced she’s pregnant, which I knew. As happy as I am for them I do fret that she will be distracted as Kim & Co negotiates the next year or so.

Sunday I leave for Istanbul for meetings Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday I travel to Doha and if things come together I’ll add a couple of meetings in Dubai the following week. I won’t be traveling alone, but with an employee who is responsible for developing accounts and contacts in the Middle East. He’s a stitch, a Frenchman of Turkish decent, a devout Muslim who is openly gay, he jokes that his great fear in life is that his family and friends will discover he works for a woman.

It is going to be an interesting week.

Kim

2011-11-21T21:34:00.000+01:00

Recently received, this many times forwarded parable.

For all my grammatically correct friends. . .

On his 70th birthday, a man got a gift certificate from his wife. The certificate paid for a visit to a medicine man living on a nearby reservation who was rumored to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction. After being persuaded, he drove to the reservation, handed his ticket to the medicine man, and wondered what he was in for.

The old man handed a potion to him, and with a grip on his shoulder, warned: ‘This is powerful medicine. You take only a teaspoonful and then say 1-2-3'.
When you do, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life, and you can perform as long as you want."

The man was encouraged. As he walked away, he turned and asked, "How doI stop the medicine from working?"

"Your partner must say '1-2-3-4,'" he responded, "but when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon."

He was very eager to see if it worked so he went home, showered, shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine, and then invited his wife to join him in the bedroom.
When she came in, he took off his clothes and said, "1-2-3 !"Immediately, he was the manliest of men. His wife was excited and began throwing off her clothes. Then she asked,"What was the 1-2-3 for?"

And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition, because we could end up with a dangling participle .

Kim

2011-11-15T21:17:00.000+01:00

Café Kim opened for the first time in months Sunday. The regulars arrived, spouses, partners and often children in tow. Wags revels in children, soaking up the attention, not to forget about lapping up the droppings and cleaning small fingers and faces. He’s incorrigible.

After all had left and Andre was cleaning up, I reflected how this little soiree has changed. Fewer are the discussions of the relative merit of this or that band, fewer huzzahs for someone who recently obtained their first professional job or where to get a good deal on shoes. Replacing those were discussing about trying to put two child seats in a C1 or should a bullet be bit and get an MPV, aka a mom-mobile. Is this a good time to buy an apartment/house and will anyone come and visit if it is in the suburbs? And overwhelmingly, what is the future of the Euro and how will that play out in our lives? Needless to say, politicians are held in low regard as are bankers. People are struggling for answers to questions that seem to be a house of mirrors.

Me? I share the same uncertainty regarding Kim & Co. and my investments. Equities don’t look promising, bonds the same, with commodities I’m out of my depth, leaving the one thing that I have some comfort in, currencies. But my past triage between the USD, the Euro, Pound and Yen is inadequate and gold is overpriced, so now I’m dabbling in Swiss francs, Canadian dollars, the Rand, the Real, Rupees, Chilean Peso, Australian dollar and the Yuan.

Then there is Kim and Company. The Great Recession had me rethink my business plan and I’ve focused on the company being tightly integrated, i.e. more important, to a smaller number of clients. In an economic downturn our clients may reduce what they spend with us, but they won’t/can’t do away with us as a vendor. Beyond that I’m trying to build partnerships and relationships in the emerging market countries. Later this month I have a trip planned to Istanbul and Doha.

An existential worry for me is the break up of the Euro zone as it would add much friction to my business model, but a long conversation with my brother-in-law showed me how I could limit my losses and still come out OK. Effectively it is an exit strategy and that’s alright. I have other business ideas that can be pursued.

The weather is fallish, but dry. We’re heading for Hossegor or Capbreton for the weekend, the surf will be up, very up and the winds favorable.

Kim

2011-11-08T18:30:00.000+01:00

Rachel was here over the weekend, coming to Paris after the G 20 hoopla in Cannes. It was great to see her, we simply hung out, did some shopping, eating and lots of talking.

A couple of videos that I've been meaning to post.

Kim

2011-10-18T19:18:00.000+02:00

My brother-in-law Robert is not quite as clueless as some, about how the much of the world feels about Wall Street and Wall Street bankers, but that doesn’t mean he gets it.

According to Grace, he had an eye opener this weekend. A good friend from college was in town to join him for the Giant’s game, sometime during the weekend the subject of the Occupy Wall St. protests came up and Robert was less than complementary in his opinions. To which his friend ripped into the whole bankster mentality and suggested that Robert get out of Manhattan for a while to see life through different eyes. His friend, quite likely another one percenter, is a Silicon Valley software exec and is probably one of the last people Robert expected to see him and his business in such a light.

Kim

2011-10-08T08:17:00.001+02:00

“We need to have lunch next time I’m in Paris or when you are in New York,” said the VIFP (very important fashion person) and then with air kisses all around left. I turned my attention back to the now empty hall, feeling good that the development of that relationship was proceeding. Then I saw her, Christine, she looked in my direction and appeared startled to see me. We held our gaze for several seconds and then she broke away, turning her back to me.

Chloe and Natalie mentioned that she has been to Paris a couple of times in the last year as she had taken a job with a design firm; her dream of being the little fabric artist on the prairie having run aground on reality of her student loans. Ironically she was living in NY, a place that made her uncomfortable. She had another option and I should be glad that she decided to dump me before I made that pesky loan problem disappear, which I would have. If I sound bitter, it’s because I am. Bitch.

Kim

2011-09-24T13:52:00.001+02:00

Thursday I flew to London from Frankfurt and from Gatwick, took the bus to Chichester, where the hotel we’d be staying at was located. Andre hadn’t arrived so I checked in and fell immediately to sleep. Sometime after one, he was scratching at my door like an old tom cat wanting in out of the rain. Andre and friends arrived with a truck and trailer containing gear and motorcycles, plus a trailing car.

Friday morning the decision was to go for a ride, rather than out to Goodwood. The group split in two, bucks and does, as the boys were feeling their testosterone and looked forward to blasting about the English countryside, while the women had mostly novice riders, including moi on the Moto Guzzi. After jokes about heading to the nearest shopping we picked a destination about a hundred kilometers away where we planned to have lunch, while riding about twice that distance to get there. All returned without incident.

Friday evening was spent gallivanting about town, such that it is, in period costume, 1950’s, having a good old time. Saturday I and others took the bus out to Goodwood, a name with which we had lots of fun with; “My dear, does your man have good wood?” Now imagine several mildly inebriated French women saying that in English while feigning a Brit accent. It was funny on a few levels. Bussing it was also preferable as I had Andre haul a suitcase full of vintage frocks for the weekend, so I wasn’t going to spend it wandering around in motorcycle leathers.

Goodwood is the ancestral home of the Duke of Richmond and is owned by the current Duke, Lord March. The place is massive, the manor house is now a hotel and on the property are auto and horse racing tracks, an airfield, a golf course and the Rolls Royce manufacturing facility. Alas they wouldn’t loan me one for the weekend. I’d been there before for the Festival of Speed with this vintage event differing by the focus on vintage clothes and the addition of old aircraft.

It was a fun weekend, I flirted my way into sitting and sometimes driving a few old sports cars, including a XK-E, a Mercedes 250SL and a pair of Austin Healy's, a 3000 and a Sprite. I loved the Sprite; it is tiny and looks like a pug. All and all we had a great weekend, but I was certainly glad to be home and sleeping in my own bed and I missed Wags.

For photos go here, here, here, and here.

Kim

2011-09-24T13:26:00.000+02:00

Paris is in the middle of a wonderful weekend weather wise. I'm at a neighborhood cafe, wags as my feet, life is pretty wonderful. I'm trying not to think of the financial world that is crashing around us. I went mostly to cash in my investments a couple of months ago and have been doing some buying during the dips. So far Kim & Co. business has been good and I believe that I'm better prepared for the downturn that now seems inevitable. We'll see.

Time for some music.

Kim

2011-09-15T15:33:00.000+02:00

Over time I’ve collected bits of possible posts, mostly erotic, but for various reasons they’ve never made it into the blog. Usually I found something else to write about or was never in the mood to finish them. I’ve decided to complete some of them and post them as an off and on series. They’ll be divorced of context, time and place, and may be from past professional engagements or my sexual wanderings.

A benefit of dating someone in the ninety-ninth percentile for either love or money is air prive. Sometimes it is G-V or a the company plane and you bumped some unlucky middle manager who will pick up his/her bag and trudge over to the main terminal. Less frequently, he’ll pilot his own, a Piper Malibu, Cessna 402 or maybe a Citation; in any case you avoid the herd and the lines.

A taxi dropped me at the company’s terminal at Le Bourget. The taxi was less conspicuous than a car service and more private than using Waldo. A young woman holding a clip board was the contact person whose name I’d been given. She checked my name off, explained the security procedure that I needed to undergo told me that I was to board first and that the cabin attendant would seat me. She then called over a guard who took my bag and credentials behind a partition. As I waited I noticed the woman call over a middle aged guy who looked over at me grimaced as she spoke with him, after he picked up his bag and left.

Sun glasses are wonderful things and I kept mine on, which allowed me to scan the room but appear to be removed. The guard, through with my things returned them with a smile and a thank you. Taking them I walked over to a window with a view of the tarmac. A good looking young guy came by and struck up a conversation as we chatted I saw that he became distracted by something and saw in the window’s reflection that someone was signaling to him. He excused himself and went to his cohort who put his back to me. It was a one-sided conversation with the fellow glancing at me as he listened. I could imagine it went something like, “what are you doing hitting on her, she’s _______’s mistress.”

After that I was left alone, when the flight was called I walked out to plane and gave my bag to ground worker and then boarded. The cabin attendant directed me to a solo seat in the front row behind the bulkhead; I perused a magazine as the others boarded. The second stop was my destination and I and three others disembarked. An aid greeted me and asked that I wait while my bag was retrieved, when it arrived I was directed to a waiting car.

Kim

2011-09-13T20:20:00.000+02:00

One thing I’m trying to do in my life is limit the acquisition of stuff. Its not that I’m all of a sudden frugal, but I’d rather spend my money on experiences that have me meet new and maybe different people, go places that I’ve never been and have an opportunity to learn. It the extent an item of ‘stuff’ can facilitate that, I can justify it. I’m not terribly disciplined about this, two of my favorite activities are skiing and surfing, both of which can provide a complete experience with a single set of equipment, but there are two pairs of skis in my storage locker and I’m at four surfboards and counting. Let’s say it’s a work in progress.

Regarding motor vehicles, I have two, Buster my VW camper who has transported Anne Marie and me on numerous adventures and provided free or inexpensive accommodations when we would have otherwise checked into a hotel. The other is Waldo, my Smart FourTwo cabriolet. Ostensibly, Waldo is my daily driver, except he gets used about once a week as I usually bicycle to work and use public transit to get around the city. My thought was to replace Waldo with the Alfa, but that’s probably not a good idea.

Waiting for my flight to Frankfurt on Friday, I ran into an auto industry acquaintance also heading to Frankfurt, so I asked him his opinion. Before he could answer our flight was called so the response waited till we arrived and shared a taxi; I had a workable plan but the wrong vehicle. Buy the Alfa he said, but take it out on a few sunny days each summer and keep the Smart as a daily driver. At the hotel our rooms weren’t ready, so we joined several others for breakfast and received a many opinions and some useable advice.

Every loves the Alfa, but all noted that it begins rusting at the prediction of humidity and Paris is nothing if it’s not damp and rainy. If I want a car that is older than I am, but not my Dad’s then a Porsche or Mercedes SL should be considered. Those are probably outside my budget and the consensus was that if I insist on an old crock, then a British sports car would be a safe choice. They do rust, I was told, but less than anything Italian, plus they are cheap to buy and maintain. But the real advice was to avoid a vintage sports car and get something contemporary that evokes the earlier era, Miata’s, BMW Z3’s, Mercedes SLK’s, Boxster’s and the like. We’ll see, I’m in no rush.

Kim

2011-09-08T23:57:00.002+02:00

Wednesday, we were on our way to a prospect meeting in northern NJ and I’m stuffed in the back seat of a Mazda RX-8 wondering why we didn’t take Grace’s BMW. The driver is the account manager who’s trying to close this deal. I’m asking questions and getting irritated at his responses. Not what he’s saying, but that he’s making shit up as he really doesn’t know the answer but won’t admit. I equally irritated with Grace as she knows that we should have this information before going into this meeting. They both know I’m irritated, Grace doesn’t care and the account manager is getting defensive, so I cool it.

The meeting went well; the AM did a good job with the presentation and handled some tough questions, I made a note to let him know that. Grace did her thing with her normal aplomb and I tied it all up in a nice package with a bow. There were important heads nodding with smiles when we finished.

In many presentations that I attend in the US, there is always someone who is interested that I live in Paris. In this one, it was the company president, whose wife and fourteen year old daughter are coming to Paris at the end of the month to spend a few days at the shows. Back in the car heading for the city, I got an idea and messaged a friend who owes me a favor. He’s a business manager for one of the houses and I asked him he could arrange good seats for them and perhaps a special tour or something.

Thursday morning I found a BCC of an email to the prez, inviting daughter and mom to the show with a promise priority seats, probably the second through fifth rows and the chance to come back stage after the show. Thursday afternoon I received a gracious phone call from the prez. The fastest way to a man’s heart maybe through his stomach, but the fastest way to his wallet is to make him a hero to his daughter.

Kim

2011-09-07T14:31:00.000+02:00

Andre’s inner flaneur came out as he walked about southern Manhattan yesterday. He saw much, took dozens of pictures and had a great time. Today his plan is to go uptown to MOMA, stroll Central Park and attempt Times Square. As yesterday, I’ll be working.

Kim

2011-09-06T03:40:00.003+02:00

We made a deal, Andre would come to NY, if I joined him at Goodwood, in England, for a vintage event. I’d been resisting going, not because it I didn’t want to, but it would add to my travels as the dates are the 16th through the 18th. As planned, I’ll travel from Frankfurt and meet A and friends there.

We flew from Paris in the afternoon and arrived at our hotel a bit ago; Mr. Romance fell asleep shortly after we hit the room. Boy friends…

Saturday I went to Buster’s storage to clean him from the trip and to clean and properly store the gear, A was to join me in order to take care of a few maintenance items on the camper. When I arrived there was an unfamiliar car parked out front, an Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider. I walked around it, thinking, “this is adorable”. I’m coming to realize that I have a thing for old sports cars and this was pushing my buttons. As I looked at it I heard someone greet me by name. Looking around I saw it was a guy who keeps a couple of cars in the warehouse. The Alfa was his and it was for sale. Oh and by the way Kim, do you want to drive it.

He held out the keys, in the same manner a guy would hold out his room key, knowing you’ll take it and knowing that you’ll show up. I took them, got in and then looked around, I liked how it felt. Starting it, I went down the driveway, before getting to the street my mind was screaming for someone to keep me from buying it.

Andre is hopeless, stuff follows him home all the time; I haven’t told you about the Moto Guzzi. In fact I figured out that he lives in his workshop, its not because he can’t afford a separate place, but because he spends that money on stuff he finds. He has little storage spaces everywhere with parts, motorcycles and materials. My family, Dad is nearly as bad and when Kenny was here, he was nearly drooling as he looked over the cars. My GFs love spending each others money, so they're no help. I resisted, but Waldo might need to find a new home, I’m getting an itch.

Kim

2011-09-06T02:43:00.000+02:00

A cousin is a freshman at my alma mater and is very excited about being on campus. She's all ready ~~digging up dirt on me~~ looking up people who know me. She also wants to pledge to my sorority and that brought back memories of how much fun it was to initiate new sisters.

2011-09-03T08:27:00.000+02:00

While I'll take all the sparkly, shiny jewelry that is given to me, when I spend my own money I like to find items that have an artistic flavor. OK I like odd stuff.

There are two pieces that I own that never fail to make observers do a double take. One is a neck piece, I wouldn't call it a necklace. It is a collar in woven silver, with a short chain and a loop at the end. A leash if you will.

The other is also a neck piece in the form of an asp. The body is leather, dyed to the proper color with the scales carved in. The eyes are faux emeralds with an extended tongue. It's very realistic.

Oh, and I'd kill for the belt in the picture.

Kim

2011-09-02T13:18:00.000+02:00

Have a good weekend all!

Kim

2011-09-01T22:13:00.002+02:00

2011-09-01T21:52:00.003+02:00

He asked that I wear something red. I hoped that this would do.

Kim

2011-08-31T22:18:00.000+02:00

Anne Marie and I were up early to catch some last waves before heading home. Yesterday we gave the cottage a good cleaning, so this morning it only needed a touch up. Funny about dogs and how they sense things; after we made one last tour to ensure we weren’t forgetting anything, we couldn’t find them, which is strange as one or the other is always underfoot. I walked out to the deck to call them and saw them sitting in Buster waiting for us to leave, and so we did.

The drive back to Paris was uneventful, just slow, as is the norm with Buster. Hannah met us at Buster’s garage, so we didn’t have to hassle getting home from there or leave him full of gear parked on the street. We’ve done that before and while there has never been a problem, you never know.

So ends another summer vacation and this will go down as among my favorites. Tomorrow the merry go-round starts up. My schedule is packed the next couple of days and Monday I leave for NY for some meetings before fashion week, from there I’m in Frankfurt for the auto show. No commitment for Andre about coming to NY for a few days and I really want him to. It’s a pride thing as he doesn’t want me paying for his travel. Men, uh.

Kim

2011-08-29T16:51:00.000+02:00

Hannah needed to return to work last week, so Anne Marie and I have had the cottage to ourselves, like old times. Though we talk all the time and hide nothing, but spending long stretches alone together allows the conversation to go deeper and return to a prior spot if one of us thinks of something to add. It is also unvarnished, about each other and our friends; we do so trust each other and value the other’s opinion. She knows what I think about Hannah and I her thoughts of Andre. Where we’ve been critical it is usually been something that we recognized but refused to acknowledge. One thing she told me is how happy she was that I was no longer escorting and that didn’t surprise me, what did is that she had questions about that part of my life. She admits that she was curious.

Andre’s plans for my birthday were a mystery; he arrived Saturday only saying that we would be going out to dinner. He took me to a café in town, that was very good. The staff knew about my birthday and my desert was topped with a candle. After he surprised me by taking me to a small inn, it was all very romantic.

Kim

2011-08-29T10:34:00.001+02:00

Andre gave me a pearl necklace from my birthday and had me on my knees to receive it.

Kim

Credit to Tui for finding the Archie comic. I wonder how she's doing?

2011-08-28T13:15:00.000+02:00

Checked in with my sisters, to see how they were doing. Grace and family decamped for Santa Barbara to visit friends, figuring Irene gave them a good excuse. Leah and David are entertaining refugees from Manhattan. The house they bought has a generator installed and David received a lesson in operating yesterday. The plan is to have hurricane party.

Kim

2011-08-26T17:27:00.001+02:00

It's Friday here is something to help waste the rest of the day.

It's fall like here, wet and cool. There is no heat in the cottage, only a fireplace for which we needed to find some wood. Brrrr.

NOTE: a reader Bryant, emailed me a few weeks ago and I finally got around to responding but the return email bounced back as undeliverable. Contact me again if would like my response.

Kim

2011-08-24T17:31:00.002+02:00

Read the preceding post for context...

My text to Andre was succinct, “I had an interesting evening.”

His reply was equally so, “You had sex with someone a man or a woman”

It would matter to Andre, a woman meant the possibility of a threesome, of the sort he desired. A man threatens him, he believes, though he won’t admit it, that I could, perhaps will leave him for another man, but not for a woman. He doesn’t understand or refuses to recognize that he has it backwards.

“A woman” I replied

Sitting on the deck, enjoying the night air with the surf providing a sound track, I waited for his call and in a few seconds my phone rang, he wanted the details. During the course of the conversation I let drop that she was married, the tone of his voice changed. God he’s such a transparent horn dog, I thought. Since his birthday, when Denise and I surprised him, fulfilling his fantasy, he’s lobbied for a repeat.” “Maybe a foursome,” I mused, “he’s very sexy.” Andre changed the subject.

Kim

2011-08-24T16:33:00.000+02:00

The party was mostly in one, crowded room. She used her eyes to indicate that I should follow her and I did, excusing myself from the two men who were seeking my attention. Stepping in the hall, she was waiting by a servant’s door beneath the stairs. Reaching her side she glanced back at the room and then took my hand leading me through the door into a short hall which ended at a screen room overlooking the garden. There was a chaise and she had me sit and then pushed me gently on to my back.

Sliding up the hem of my dress she kissed my thighs and then lifted her eyes and with a twinkle said, “Commando,” yes, no underwear. She returned to her kissing and licking and I opened myself to her pulling my legs back to expose myself while she continued to lick, bite and probe. “My ass,” I whispered and obligingly two fingers slid in. An orgasm swept over me with a spasm and then another and then she raised her head again, her lipstick now smeared and her lips and mouth glistening from my juices. I pulled her up and we kissed, but when I started to slide down to return the favor, she stopped me saying that she needed to get back before her husband became suspicious. “We’ll get together soon,” she said and was gone.

For a few minutes I laid there savoring the pleasant afterglow before returning to the party. Our eyes met and her husband took note, before the evening was out I had a message about meeting for lunch, “If you have an afternoon free…” It’s August, I’m on vacation, I am.

Kim

2011-08-15T20:22:00.000+02:00

Most of last week was spent in Paris taking care of business. On the anniversary of Mom’s death it has been the custom of my siblings to get together by phone to and celebrate her memory, this year was the first time I could be together with one of them for the call. As Kenny and I sat in my office waiting for Grace and Leah to call, we talked about growing up and how each of us viewed the other. As a kid, they never ceased to remind me that I was Mom and Dad’s accident, or as Kenny referred to me when we were kids, their mistake and how that he usually thought of me as a persnickety pain in the ass, who was too smart and observant for her own good. In turn I admitted that I felt that he was stuck up and felt that he believed he was better than the rest of us. Ah the tribulations of growing up. Needless to say we went through a lot of tissue.

When I returned to the cottage on Thursday, Anne Marie and Hannah were packing Buster for a few days camping in the Pyrenees. The mountains call Hannah in a way that the ocean does me and there was a skip in her step as the preparations were made.

With Andre back in Paris working on a commission it was nice to have the place to myself and I luxuriated in the solitude. His having a project means that I probably won’t see him till he finishes or at least is significantly ahead of schedule as he throws himself into his work and ignores most everything else, but he better not forget my birthday.

The days were spent poking through the shops in the nearby town and I filled the basket on my bicycle with the booty. Each day I took a long walk along the beach, playing fetch with Wags as we went. One day the waves were smallish and I put Wags on the long board and paddled out. Those on the beach were amused with a dog hanging ten.

Kim

2011-08-10T00:01:00.000+02:00

In memory of my mother.

2011-08-08T20:13:00.000+02:00

The cottage is one step above the surrounding ground and has a small deck attached, we, Kenny, Catherine, Andre and I sat sipping wine and getting a bit tipsy as we watched the flickering flames in the fire ring and seeking a peek at the setting sun through the clouds. The youngsters were tucked in, exhausted from two days of salt, sand and surf, while the Twins were off with new found friends.

Families occupy the other cottages in the compound and the kids gravitated together in play. There were two girls the Twins’ age and the four comprised our teen pack. I noticed when we were on the beach the family groups and the four girls separate from the rest of us. Later afternoon convened a parental summit to discuss the girls’ request to go off on their own for the evening. K & C are cautious parents, perhaps more so than they typical French parent, so they stretched a bit on setting a time for the girls to be back, 22:00, shortly after sunset.

The witching hour was approaching and K & C kept glancing at each other, ah parents, how they forget their own youth. Then with giggles, a screech and more laughter the four entered the compound. Good-byes were said and they returned to their families. The Twins’ propped themselves on the railing and gave a vague but sufficient report on their evening and then changed the subject to food, they were hungry. That was my cue to spring to action as doting aunty. Finished eating the girls went to bed and we finished the wine and retired ourselves. Then I was ravaged by the horny Andre

Kim

2011-08-06T08:32:00.001+02:00

With Anne Marie and Hannah, I’ve taken a beach house for the month. It’s tiny, with two small bedrooms, kitchen/living space and the toilet. The shower is outside. But it is on the beach, part of group of similar places that originally stored the gear of local fisherman and were later converted to cottages.

Kenny and family are here for a few days. Buster and his ~~seldom~~ once used accessory tent has been placed in service as an apartment for them. Everyone is having a great time and they all are learning to surf. They go home next week and I’m going to miss them.

Kim

2011-08-01T20:04:00.001+02:00

“rive gauche,” a term that fires romantic images of Paris as a haven for art and culture in millions. In truth, today’s struggling artists and hipsters have moved east to neighborhoods away from the Seine and in some cases to the suburbs, for affordable housing and workspaces. At the risk of a very gross generalization, Paris can be thought of as four zones, the arrondissements touching the Seine with those of the Right Bank, serving their traditional role as the haven for government and finance, while those on the Left Bank represent the businessfication of art. The west can be accused as being the domain of the haute bourgeoisie or at least the established and comfortable, while Paris to the east is home to the rest of us.

But since the early 1990’s Paris Rive Gauche has meant something specific, the redevelopment of an obsolete industrial area along the Seine, in the 13th, into a mixed use development. An area several blocks wide, running from Gare d’Austerlitz to Le Periph, Paris Rive Gauche is a development Parisians, native and ex pat, love to hate. Partly it is the architecture, modernism with its glass curtain walls and expanses of concrete, along with re-purposed industrial buildings and partly it is the scale. While not tall by New York standards, the buildings are tall for Paris and since most were designed to house large corporate offices with many employees, the ground level of the side streets are often blank walls, behind which are loading docks, parking garages and the like.

The commercial and residential streets are the antithesis of Haussmann Paris. Again scale and architecture play a part. In much of Paris the street level has a distinct feel with relatively narrow, but deep retail spaces that reflect the style of the occupant and most areas are dominated by proprietor owned shops. In PRG the retail spaces tend to be broad and shallow, reflecting the need to use the interior space of the building for other purposes. Also the retailers tend to be corporate, chains and well funded start ups, as they are the only businesses that can afford the rents, so the feeling of personal style is lost. Add to that immature landscaping and the area can feel somewhat sterile.

But being surrounded by the beauty of Haussmann Paris requires living in Haussmann Paris and there are trade-offs. Tiny, oddly laid out apartments, walkups, electrical and mechanical systems that often date from the 1950’s, if not WWI and then there is the parking or lack of it. So leaving a meeting in RPG, I found myself near a condo complex with a sales office and I thought, why not take a look?

There was no receptionist in the sales office, just the three representatives. Two seemed bored at my arrival, the third, a woman, nearly broke a heel rushing over to claim me. I’m blaming the Kelly, I was carrying it, and she pegged me as a rich wife or well kept mistress. We chatted a bit and she gave me a tour of the model, explaining what was in the base price and what the possible upgrades (anything) were. I described what I wanted for space, a one bedroom with an office/den, kitchen open to the dining area (odd in Paris), living room and one and a half baths. With that we were off to see a space, on a higher, mid floor with a view of the Seine and a balcony large enough for a café table and a couple of chairs in addition to a chaise.

It was lovely and only 2.5M €, plus upgrades of course. Now my little place with the tiny kitchen, doesn’t seem so bad, it has an elevator, attached parking and I opened the wall between the kitchen and living area. It does lack the office/den, but the rent is only slightly more than the monthly maintenance fee in the PRG apartment. I appreciate it more. Plus it has one of those lovely Haussmann Paris streetscapes.

Kim

2011-07-24T17:22:00.001+02:00

In memory of the dead in Norway and of those who have died at hand of terrorists.

2011-07-14T22:00:00.002+02:00

Um, I've been a bit tied up lately. Crazy busy really, mostly a good type of busy, though it is still wearing. I'm going to take a couple of weeks off from the blog as I can't do it justice right now. The summer holiday will start soon and then everything will slow down.

2011-07-08T07:21:00.000+02:00

Friday morning we met at Dad’s to caravan to the farm. I brought Buster since the camper will seat 4, plus lots of luggage and we immediately were the transportation and sleeping accommodations of choice for the kids. Andre volunteered his place for a kid and joined Grace and Robert in their rental. When we got to the farm he told me that now he understood what the victims of the inquisition went through, I reminded him that he’d been warned.

The weekend went well, A passed family scrutiny and was a run away hit with the children with his magic tricks and amazing thing he can do with a football (soccer ball), which he coached the kids on and that kept them occupied. Monday afternoon we split up Grace and family headed to Provence, while Leah and family traveled to Scotland. Earlier arrangements had been made for the Twins to accompany Leah and Grace as baby sitters, they were very excited about this, but it began to dawn on them that they would be separated for a week; this was going to be a new experience for them.

Dad and Juliette stayed at the farm and the rest of us headed back to Paris, tired, happy after a nice weekend, but glad that it was over.

Kim

2011-06-30T07:16:00.001+02:00

Shortly into the new year, Dad and I received messages from the Twins asking if they could visit during the summer. Of course Dad, having experience with the scheming ways of teenagers, figured something was up and sure enough a few days later their parents inquired if we invited them for the summer. What they didn’t know and neither did we, was that Kenny was considering coming to Paris for the summer to participate in a seminar.

They arrived early in the week and since the timing corresponds to our family’s summer get together, Grace and Leah are arriving today with their families. Needless to say Dad has been conducting the CDG shuttle, but they are spared the house guests. At least in Paris as we’re going to Juliette’s farm for the weekend.

Have a good holiday all!

Kim

2011-06-20T20:22:00.000+02:00

Last week Andre was feeling pretty chipper, a finished bike was being delivered for which a substantial final payment was due. Lightening his mood even more was the fact that he was current on his bills, so he could put some money ahead. I asked him how he delivered the bike and he said that he either put it on a trailer to take to the owner or he parked it outside the building when the owner was picking it up. One thing that Andre is awful at is marketing himself and so I asked him if he ever made an event out of the delivery and he said he hasn’t but I could tell he was thinking about it.

When I arrived at his space Saturday morning he’d moved the bike lift out to the entryway of the loft with the bike atop it, lit by various shop lights, it really gleamed. When the owner and two of his friends arrived, they were excited. He’d cooked up a goofy ceremony for handing over the keys, which I recorded for posterity, as well as promotional opportunities and then it was time to role the bike outside and start it.

It started on the first kick against a background of guy-babble and the owner put on a helmet and started down the dock ramp for a test ride. He came back fifteen minutes later grinning.

Kim

2011-06-12T11:37:00.000+02:00

Saturday we celebrated Andre's birthday. I made dinner and...

2011-06-08T21:13:00.003+02:00

Two readers have emailed me asking my thoughts on l’affaire DSK. On the particulars of the Dominique Strauss-Kahn rape allegations I really don’t have any, believing that it is for the courts to sort out. Though I’ll agree with his defenders on the small point of the perp walk, after all a defendant is considered innocent until proven otherwise. But to the broader response by his peers as characterized by the insufferable Bernard-Henri Levy and the outbreak of anger among French women all I can say is GO GIRLS.

To say that each week I’m subject to some egregious sexual harassment is an exaggeration, though a small one. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been groped on the Métro or have had demeaning or threatening comments directed at me from men on the street. That shit happens in many cities, but it seems worse here. But sexual and sexist comments in business setting are more common here than in the US or UK.

The flirting and suggestive comments I can ignore or brush off with repartee. Also I can ignore objectifying comments such as, “that dress is lovely, but on you it is beautiful,” without embarrassment. Each of the young women who have interned at Kim & Co., has confronted this in a different way. One had worked very hard on a project and greatly contributed to its success and in the conference call tying up the loose ends she heard the senior manager for the client, who is her father’s age, tell the project manager to “…make sure you bring the pretty young girl to the executive presentation, she brings the beauty of a bouquet to the room.” At what was the crowning moment of her internship, she was being compared to a vase of flowers, how horrid.

More problematic are the expressions of support that are accompanied by a hand placed on my back heading south, or my knee heading north. It’s awkward. Easier to dodge are the suggestions for a private dinner or getting together cinq á sept.

Admittedly, in a small way French women have contributed to the propagation of these attitudes as they have not been as willing to forego some of the benefits of traditional femininity for equality as American and UK women. I’m guilty also as I’m a shameless flirt and not above leaving the man’s suggestion open till I’ve gotten what I want. But I want it to be different.

Kim

2011-06-01T21:01:00.000+02:00

One hand for me, one hand for the steering wheel.

Kim

2011-05-30T17:59:00.000+02:00

Very cool.

Kim

2011-05-26T22:19:00.002+02:00

It has been a long time since I've posted a music video of local/French bands or for that matter any music. Felipecha is a duo that I saw in concert a couple of months ago. Enjoy.

Felipecha - Un petit peu d'air by Labelathome

FELIPECHA - "quelque part" - réalisation... by Labelathome

Kim

2011-05-23T19:54:00.000+02:00

Looking for something??

2011-05-20T17:21:00.001+02:00

I’m still kind of ambivalent about Andre and our relationship. I like him, enjoy being with him and importantly look forward to seeing him when we aren’t together. But I wonder if that is all there is?

A friend told me the story of the romance with her husband. They’d been friends in college, dates of last resort and the person that would come to a family gathering when there was no one else. And they were occasional fuck buddies. All the while they were frantically seeking other romances until they realized, or maybe accepted, that they were a pair. That was twenty years ago.

Kim

2011-05-19T21:52:00.002+02:00

Andre’s toothbrush hangs next to mine, I’ve emptied a drawer so he can store some clothes and his motorcycle tucks behind Waldo in my garage stall. He hasn’t moved in, thankfully, but he spends ~~some~~ many nights. I’ll confess that I miss him when he’s not next to me and the impromptu middle of the night sex is , but he’s difficult to have a round. He’s sort of…
Admittedly I’m a cleannik, at times obsessively so. He’s not and little messes seem to appear wherever he goes. He doesn’t see the piles that he creates as piles, but some type of filing system. He puts stuff out so he can find it. That drawer, he wouldn’t use it at first preferring to drop stuff in a corner. Of course Wags thought he had a new bed and that convinced Andre to use the drawer.

And then there is the shouting at the TV…

Kim

2011-05-18T22:00:00.000+02:00

Juliette and Dad came for dinner last evening, drop the pugs off and to meet Andre. The meeting was a bit overdue, but schedules have been difficult to coordinate and I kept expecting the relationship to be over any second. I met his parents at a gallery opening shortly after we met and they’ve had us over for dinner.

It went well and I wouldn’t have thought that it wouldn’t. Andre cleans up nicely and his parents’ did a good job of instilling proper manners. He was nervous before they arrived and checked with me after they left to gather my impressions.

Talking to Dad earlier he said that he mentioned to Leah that they were coming for dinner and she wished him a good time. Shortly after that Grace called with a list of things Dad needed to learn about Andre and report back to her. He ignored her of course, but he laughed as he recounted the conversation and then told me that of all his children, he worried least about me managing the challenges of life. I appreciate his confidence.

Kim

2011-05-03T19:43:00.001+02:00

The ringing of the phone woke me, it was only a half hour till my normal wake up, but I was still in a deep sleep. Groggily I reached for the phone and looked at who was calling. Seeing that it was my brother I snapped awake; he wouldn’t call me at this hour except for an emergency.

He was jovial when he began speaking and that confused me, “did you hear,” he said, “did you hear they killed bin Laden?” He told me what was known and then his analysis, followed by a summary of the flood of tweets from various foreign policy and intelligence types that he follows. After a few minutes he said he wanted to call Dad and that he’d call again later.

Before taking Wags out I watched the video of President Obama’s announcement and looked at a couple of news articles. In the street the news was spreading, strangers asked if you had heard and people talked excitedly; it was universally good news. Nothing like good news to start the week.

Kim

2011-04-27T19:16:00.003+02:00

“Are you going to sleep with her?” Andre asked when I told him that I’d be staying with Irena when in Berlin; Irena is one of his porn star favs. Earlier when he found out that I’d dated Milla as well as knowing Irena, all he could say was, “Really?” “Did the three of you…well, you know…?” I just looked at him and he shut up. Later I heard him bragging to his buddies that I knew the two of them and, well you know. In Guyville status is achieved in strange ways and having a girlfriend that cavorts with porn stars is one I guess.

Kim

Photo: Helmut Newton

2011-04-22T20:12:00.004+02:00

Congratulations Bianca!

Kim

2011-04-20T18:52:00.003+02:00

Business travel and spending nights in hotels has a couple of small benefits, one being an opportunity to catch up on some reading. Among my bookmarks was a NY Times Magazine article on Hugh Hefner. Many view Hefner as preposterous, an embarrassment or pathetic, but he has achieved something that is rare, his lifestyle has defined a brand and that brand defines a way of life for (perhaps too) many people who try to emulate it on some level. Thinking about others whose personal brand has spun off a lifestyle; Ralph Lauren and Martha Stewart come to mind, but after the choices can be subject to strong counter argument.

Thinking about Hef and Playboy reminded me of a scanned Playboy article that was posted at The Selvedge Yard, shown below. As the writer for the Selvedge Yard notes, no wonder guys are so screwed up about women.

Of course, now that I've re-read this, I'll be self-conscious of how I'm sitting this evening at dinner.

Nice legs though.

Kim

2011-04-19T10:05:00.001+02:00

There’s a packed bag by my door and Wags’ has been exiled to Dad’s, where he’s terrorizing the pugs and joining them as the most walked dogs in Paris.

It’s an odd time; I’m gone almost as much as I’m home. It started with the trip to Brussels, from which I flew to NY for a day of meetings and then a few days of personal business before returning to NY for another set of meetings. A stop in Boston to see Leah and David’s new house and back to Paris on Wednesday, but not for long; Anne Marie had retrieved Buster and parked in front of my office Friday afternoon and we headed for the beach.

Today I’m headed for Lyon and Thursday Marseilles. Next week it is Berlin and Munich and after that I’m not sure I need to look at my itinerary.

Kim

2011-04-13T18:06:00.000+02:00

When ever I see comments from unfamiliar profiles, I'll check them out and visit their blog if they have one. The other day that brought me to I'll Make You Laugh, and I did. Since Mercurial Girl is not above shamelessly ripping off (with due credit of course) great posts I present the borrowed (I've been known to borrow husbands also. But I always return them just a bit worn.) 7 Degrees of Blondes. For a couple of reasons this is opportune, it has been a while since we abused blonds here at Mercurial Girl (reader submissions accepted) and my friend Rachel, an ubber blond, informed me that she and Amy will visit France this summer. WHOOPEE!!

Now without further ado...

FIRST DEGREE

A married couple were asleep when the phone rang at 2 in the morning. The wife (undoubtedly blonde), picked up the phone, listened a moment and said, "How should I know, that's 200 miles from here!" and hung up The husband said, "Who was that?" The wife said, "I don't know, some woman wanting to know if the coast is clear.

SECOND DEGREE

Two blondes are walking down the street. One notices a compact on the sidewalk and leans down to> pick it up. She opens it, looks in the mirror and> says, "Hmm, this person looks familiar ; The second blonde says, "Here, let me see So the first blonde hands her the compact The second one looks in the mirror and says, "You dummy, it's me.

THIRD DEGREE

A blonde suspects her boyfriend of cheating on her so she goes out and buys a gun. She goes to his apartment unexpectedly and when she opens the door she finds him in the arms of a redhead. Well, the blonde is really angry. She opens her purse to take out the gun,and as she does so, she is overcome with grief. She takes the gun and puts it to; her head; The boyfriend yells, "No, honey, don't do it!!!"; The blonde replies, "Shut up, you're next!"

FOURTH DEGREE

A blonde was bragging about her knowledge of state capitals. She proudly says, "Go ahead and ask me, I know all of them."; A friend says, "OK, what's the capital of Wisconsin?" The blonde replies, "Oh, that's easy: W."

FIFTH DEGREE

What did the blonde ask her doctor when he told her she was pregnant? "Is it mine?

SIXTH DEGREE

Bambi, a blonde in her fourth year as a UCLA; freshman, sat in her US government class. The; professor asked Bambi if she knew what Roe vs. Wade; was about. Bambi pondered the question then finally said; "That was the decision George Washington had to make; before he crossed the Delaware.

SEVENTH DEGREE

Returning home from work, a blonde was shocked; to find her house ransacked and burglarized. She telephoned the police at once and reported the crime. The police dispatcher broadcast the call on the radio, and a K-9 unit, patrolling nearby was the first to respond. As the K-9 officer approached the house with his dog on a leash, the blonde ran out on the porch, shuddered at the sight of the cop and his dog, then sat down on the steps. Putting her face in her hands, she moaned, "I come home to find all my possessions stolen. I call the police for help, and what do they do? They send me a BLIND policeman."

Go read I'll Make You Laugh, you will.

Kim

2011-04-12T19:51:00.003+02:00

Mad Men

I don't need to comment, do I? More old ads here.

Kim

2011-04-06T19:19:00.001+02:00

Andre wants me to get a motorcycle. “We can ride together,” he says. “We ride together now, I’m riding behind you,” is my reply. If the truth be told, he really doesn’t like taking a passenger, but he won’t admit that. This started a couple of weeks ago and has come up a few times since and every couple of days he sends a picture with the note, “This would be a good one for you.”

It’s not that motorcycles intimidate me, though I respect the risk. I had a scooter for a couple of years in college and know what it’s like to ride in traffic. And frankly it would be fun, but my objections are the practical ones; a motorcycle is expensive (not an older one that can be fixed up, no more than 2000€, he says), who’ll maintain it (he will, he says), where will I keep it (his place, or in front of Waldo as there is plenty of room in my parking stall for both).

In truth my base reason for not getting one is that I’ve too much stuff and enough hobbies to keep me going. But I could give in, the other night I guy let me sit on his vintage BMW, it was cool and for sale at the bargain price of only 25,000€. Double scratch that one off.

I’d rather settle for a Ruby helmet and some vintage leathers.

Kim

2011-04-05T21:48:00.000+02:00

2011-04-05T21:24:00.001+02:00

Over the weekend, Dad and Juliette went to Brussels for the weekend meeting his brother and his brother’s wife who came from London. While there, those impetuous kids decided a nice road trip up the coast to Amsterdam and maybe Copenhagen was in order. But there was a problem; they took the train rather than driving from Paris. No problem, Dad remembered that I had meetings in Brussels on Tuesday and would be coming up Monday; I could bring the Porsche to them.

That was fine, I like that car. Monday afternoon saw me cruising on the A2 the stereo turned up loud aware that there was a speed camera about 40KM ahead when I glanced in the mirror and saw…

Shit! Maybe he wasn’t interested in me so I moved to the right and so did he, so I slowed and pulled over. Ever so polite and professional he took my license and went back to the car. I sat there drumming my fingers on the top of the steering wheel mulling over ways to get out of this. Maybe I could offer to take a breathalyzer test! Bad idea Kim, I thought. The officer returned and before giving me the ticket, asked about my relationship to the car’s owner. In the exchange it came out that Dad has never gotten a ticket in that car, which surprised me, as he regularly contributed to the sheriffs fund drives when I was growing up. He is getting old.

Kim

2011-04-03T16:45:00.002+02:00

Exiting the Périphérique, Andre slowed on the ramp for a car to pass and then accelerated across a traffic lane. The bike’s exhaust sound reverberated off the over pass as we went through it. A couple of kilometers down the road, we slowed to turn into a drive, the bike nearly without forward progress as we waited for another car. When the car past, the bike leaned so precipitously to the left I thought we were falling over and I held Andre more tightly. The bike leapt forward righting itself and then banked to the right as we passed through the gate. We turned into an area between two buildings and past several trailers backed up to loading docks. On the right there was a ramp to the top of a dock and Andre maneuvered the bike up it.

Just past the freight door he stopped the bike and had me get off and then he dismounted. As we took our helmets off he said, “Scared you, huh?” Referring to the turn, “A little,” I admitted. He stepped past me and unlocked the freight door, which actually was the entrance to an elevator and then backed the bike on to it and we went up. At the third level he pushed the bike off the elevator and into a passageway. He dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them to me asking me to open the door at the end of the hall that he pointed to.

Scampering ahead of him so he wouldn’t have to wait till I opened the door I went in and found the light switches on the right, where he said they were. There were several and not knowing which one, I flipped them all on and the space lit up like day and a radio came on loudly. After pushing the bike into the space he put it on the side stand and shut off the radio. Then took a pan a placed it under the engine. “Why did you do that?” I asked. He replied with a smile that the bike, “liked to leak a bit of oil, its British after all.”

As he talked I’d been looking around the space, it was pretty good size. To the left were a couple of sculptures in progress and a rack of metal. Straight ahead there was a motorcycle lift with a bike on it a long workbench and two large toolboxes, on the side there were three more bikes, mostly disassembled and boxes of parts. To the right there was a drywall partition, behind which was his living space, such that it is. Why I was still planning to spend the night with him there and not demanding that he take me home, I’ll never know.

Around four I awoke needing to pee badly; the toilet was through a door and off a hall. I cringed at the grit that I felt under my feet. The toilet was reasonably clean, I’ve used much worse and my business finished, I flipped the light off and opened the door. There was a man there, a large naked man, he grabbed me and I began screaming, while kicking and hitting at him. He wouldn’t let me go as he pushed me back in to the toilet the door closing behind us. I screamed louder and then the light came on and Andre entered the room. At that time it began seeping into my brain that both I and my suspected attacker were calling Andre for assistance. He was Andre’s neighbor and they shared the toilet and to complicate things more, without his glasses he sees mostly shapes of things up close.

The excitement over, we stood there naked and made introductions. Then Andre and I returned to his space and to bed, but with the adrenalin flowing we couldn’t sleep so we began making love. It was better than the night before, we were rested and events provided energy to burn and we did. About six, I jumped up and told him I needed to call a cab in order to return home and tend to Wags. He’d take me home and he did. After walking Wags we cleaned up and went out for breakfast.

This all seems like long ago and like yesterday.

Kim

2011-03-28T21:23:00.001+02:00

Saturday I was browsing the shops along the Bd. Saint Michel when I ran into Jacques’ cousin, whom I’d met several times in the past. We greeted each other, air kisses ensued and we chatted for a few minutes when she asked if I had plans for lunch. I didn’t and was agreeable so we chose a café.

A few months ago, I’d been exchanging emails with Jacques regarding some mutual business interests and at the end of his final of the series he concludes, “by the way, Saturday I will be getting married. The ceremony will be at the house in St. Tropez.” I was stunned; I had no idea that he was even seeing anyone. It was early in the summer that I last saw him, we had lunch, and before that we had spent a day together in March looking at vintage cars. “Congratulations, I responded, who’s the lucky woman?” His reply came almost immediately with a name. I Googled her of course, my curiosity satisfied I did everything in my power to put him out of my mind, but if felt very weird.

It was inevitable our lunch conversation would turn to Jacques. “We were all surprised she said in a gossipy tone, we figured that you would be the one who would eventually snag him, as he kept coming back to you.” There wasn’t much for me to say and I probably couldn’t get it out anyway as my stomach began to churn and the tears welled up in my eyes. I’d so thoroughly stuffed my feelings upon learning of Jacques’ marriage that I never allowed myself to grieve the loss of his friendship and the thoughts of what never would be.

Kim

2011-03-24T18:54:00.000+01:00

An American friend who lives in England linked me to this:

“Sarah Palin tours India and Israel to get to grips with foreign policy.”

It was tempting to see this headline in itself as illuminating, if not incisive. Who else would undertake a crash course in foreign-policy issues by starting with countries that, in turn, start with the letter “I”? You don’t have to be Sigmund Freud to see some significance. And the joke writes itself.
John Doyle

The English truly have raised the cutting remark to an art form.

Kim

2011-03-23T20:41:00.000+01:00

This is for Jo

and for other beagle lovers.

Good speed Elizabeth Taylor.

Kim

2011-03-22T18:36:00.002+01:00

Saturday, I packed lunch for two, a computer and Wags into Waldo and drove out to Andre’s space to spend the day there completing some work, while he worked. I’ve done this before and on those occasions, Andre worked on a sculpture, but this Saturday he worked on a client’s motorcycle.

There are three motorcycles in various states of assembly in the loft; they belong to client’s for whom Andre is building the bike for. The arrangement is that the Andre estimates the cost up front and the owner makes a payment for the next part of the project and Andre will work on the bike till the money runs out. It’s all a bit haphazard as the progress payments aren’t regular; they come when the owner has saved it up. Two of the owners sent money this week and Andre is happy as the motorcycle work pays the bills and the art work by and large is his spending money.

But I believe he’s happy for another reason. As I observed him working Saturday, I noticed that his demeanor and attitude was different than when he was working on a sculpture and I realized that his passion isn’t sculpture, but building the motorcycles. When sculpting he was often frustrated and at times avoided the work and came over to talk or schnog with me, but when he worked on the motorcycle it was if I wasn’t there. I’d hear him humming and whistling, punctuated with epitaphs, but after pondering the problem he’d go back to humming.

Last week I was browsing the Etsy blog, saw this video and thought that this could be Andre in twenty-five or thirty years sitting in his shop, pontificating about life surrounded by dozens of motorcycles; content.

Handmade Portraits: Liberty Vintage Motorcycles from Etsy on Vimeo.

I told him my observation and it didn’t surprise him. Maybe others had mentioned it or he recognized it himself. As we’ve gotten to know each other I’ve seen how invested he is in being an artist. It has been his dream since he was a child and he is having difficulty not only thinking of giving that up, but even considering the transfer of his talents and abilities to something considered prosaic.

Kim

2011-03-18T07:37:00.000+01:00

I have PMS

and

I have a gun

Now, what is your complaint again?

Kim

2011-03-17T16:10:00.005+01:00

In an email to a business friend, I whined about how difficult it is to write in French. That my written communication too often makes it appear that I'm ignorant. Given my mood all the blame was outward.

In reply he sent this in English...

My interest piqued, I took a peek at her majestic peaks.

Point made.

Kim

2011-03-15T21:20:00.001+01:00

I love it when you talk nerdy to me.

Kim

Image from: cravings

2011-03-15T21:14:00.001+01:00

From the Dept. of You Can't Make This Stuff Up:

Snake bites model's breast, snake dies...of silicone poisoning.

Kim

2011-03-14T18:32:00.001+01:00

A year ago friends, Cassandra and Jeanette decided that they’d had enough of Paris and wanted to move to the country, Provence to be specific. They and C’s daughter Louise love their house with the gardens and hiking trails through the woods, but they miss their Parisian friends terribly. Social media can’t replace a hug and the sight and sound of friends in the same room. So they invited a group of us down for a weekend.

Friday afternoon a small caravan of four cars with fifteen people plus four dogs, Wags included, left Paris for the Provence and arrived well after midnight at the small stone house with a separate guest cottage. Hugs and kisses followed but soon we spread our sleeping bags and faded off to dreamland.

Morning brought good natured chaos as we tried to figure our morning routines and the how to operate the temporary showers that they had rented. The dogs were turned out and the six of them, our four and C&J’s two beagles romped. The beagles picked up a scent and off they went with the rest at their heels, after a bit three of them returned but not the beagles and Wags. C&J and most emphatically Louise, told me not to worry that they’d come back when they were ready and sure enough about three hours later the trio were at a pail drinking. Wags’ fur was so full of burrs and briars that I needed to cut many of them out and when I finished he looked like a mangy mutt rather than a pampered pooch that he is.

Louise was sent off to friends for the night and the party was on. There was lots of food and wine, to die for desserts and every reason to eat and keep eating. Later in the evening the ever popular penis shaped bong made its appearance, to the usual giggles that were enhanced by inhalation of the contents of the smoldering bowl. As the evening wore on the loud dance music gave way to quiet jazz with the lights turned way down. Couples of convenience were formed and a more-some or two. Soon it was quiet except for the occasional moan and rustle of bodies moving. A loud gasp, elicited a satiric comment and laughter, then more quiet. It was like being in college again, if only for an evening.

Kim

2011-03-14T15:31:00.002+01:00

The images coming from Japan are horrible. Over the weekend I was visiting friends in Provence with others (more later), and the video and reports coming out of Japan captivated and shocked us.

Except for a former co-worker from my college job, I don't know anyone living in Japan. She is in Tokyo and is accounted for. Sarah who writes the blog Ninja without a clue, has also update that she is fine.

Kim

2011-03-09T19:35:00.012+01:00

Lots of excess energy, I've been the dutiful, reserved lady for too long. I need to cut loose. DANCE. Put on something ~~slutty~~ fun and head for some place that is dark and loud.

Would you put on your best stilettos and tight, short dress, only to walk into the Holiday Inn Express in a parking lot behind the terminal at 1 am? Truly, nothing screams "PROSTITUTE!!!" louder.

Bianca

Image: Touching Velvet

Kim

2011-03-08T21:08:00.002+01:00

Over time I’ve collected bits of possible posts, mostly erotic, but for various reasons they never made it into the blog. Usually I found something else to write about or was never in the mood to finish them. I’ve decided to complete some of them and post them as an off and on series. They’ll mostly be divorced of context, time and place, and may be from past professional engagements or my sexual wanderings.

He was on the phone, when I came out of the bathroom in my bra and panties. I sat on the edge of the bed with my back to him as I put my stockings on, the time was up and I wanted to go. Standing I pulled my dress over my head and zipped it, it was red, with cap sleeves and a boat neck. Before I put on the wide, black belt, I smoothed the dress and then put on my shoes. I took a quick look in the mirror and then looked back towards him to wave good-by.

He held up a finger, indicating he wanted me to wait, I felt impatient, but I leaned against the dresser for him to finish. Finally he asked the caller to hold and he motioned me over as he stood up. From his pocket he took several 100 Euro notes and pressed them into my hand, my tip, as the thanked me. “Can I see you in two weeks,” he asked? “Of course, do you want me to have the agency contact you to make the arrangement,” I asked him? “Great,” was his reply.

Outside the room I texted the desk that I was done and clear, almost immediately my phone began buzzing, I ignored it. Two housekeepers were at a cart, they smiled and greeted me I did the same to them. Waiting for the elevator I took put on my sunglasses. The door opened and there were two men inside, a third got on at the next floor. At the lobby they let me disembark first, but after getting clear, I stepped aside and pretended to look for something in my purse.

After the men passed, I peeked around the corner, shit Anne Marie was working at the desk. There was no way I could make it across the lobby without her seeing me. She didn’t know yet, but I’d need to explain, it would be awkward and I didn’t want to be lying to her also. The initial feeling of excitement on becoming an escort had passed and in their place was a creeping sense of shame, but that too would pass. The hall behind me led to some meeting rooms and offices, there would be an exit that way. My phone was vibrating again in my hand.

Outside I looked at the text, it was the agency; would I take another call. I called the girl, did he ask for me. I was still naïve and hadn’t figured out that they always asked specifically for you. When at 5, where the Renaissance, within walking distance, who she mentioned a name, I asked her, “____ ____ the ___?” She didn’t know. He would be sitting in the lobby near the fireplace, reading a copy of L’Automobile, wearing a navy blazer with a bow-tie. I love bow-ties; I told her that I’d take the call.

I checked the time, 15:13, damn, I really wanted to go back to my apartment, but there wasn’t time, but I need to kill nearly 2 hours. My phone began ringing again this time Marie, she’d want to debrief on my last call and talk about the next. I ignored her, she’d be pissed, but I wanted some time to myself. At the corner of Rue de Castiglione and Rue du Mont Thabor, I stopped and collected my thoughts. SHOP, the soldes had started, that cheered me and as long as I resisted buying anything, or at least much, it would be fine. I’d been struggling with my budget and spending more than I should.

I looked in the window at Vanessa Bruno and went inside, there were a few women looking through the racks and a pair of patient husbands waiting for them. I looked around and as luck would have it found a couple of dresses that I liked. It won’t hurt to try them on I thought. At quarter to 5 I walked out with the dresses, a pair of shoes and a scarf. So much for my budget, but I was feeling upbeat.

As arranged, he was reading by the fireplace and purposefully I walked toward him with a big smile. He looked up and realized who I was, returned the smile and stood. “I’m so happy to see you again,” I said as we exchanged double air kisses and a hug. He offered me a seat and as he sat down, he noted that I was a good actress. “I try,” was my response. Our introductions done we headed off to his room.

Heading home on the Metro, I spotted Elyse sitting at the other end of the car, she looked tired and discouraged. She was hustling for modeling work, a trunk show here a private showing at a designer’s there or a catalog photo shoot, none of it was consistent, even less guaranteed and with the summer vacation coming up even that would end. Late one evening in late August we sat in our darkened apartment where between sobs she told me she didn’t have September’s rent. She knew her career as a runway model was through and with that the opportunity for good money, but her plan was riddled with unknowns, which she acknowledged.

She knew almost as soon as we moved in together that I was escorting, she had been a sugar baby and a close friend was an escorte-girl, so she recognized behavior, but she was also clear that escorting was not something that she wanted any part of.

At our stop, she waited for me on the platform, we hugged and I asked if she had a tough day, holding back tears she said she had, but didn’t want to talk then. She changed the subject and asked what I got at Vanessa’s. As we walked to the apartment she asked if I wanted to go out for dinner. That sounded good, but I wanted to change, “why,” she asked as she loved my dress. “It’s a work dress,” I replied and she understood.

The dress exchanged for a tee shirt and skirt, the stilettos for flats, we headed for the local. Our neighborhood was one of the more down at the heels in Paris and the local café wasn’t fancy, a blue collar bistro that seldom had customers from beyond a few block radius. We were quiet at the start of dinner, then the comradery of our growing friendship lightened the mood and our walk home was punctuated by laughter.

Kim

Images: Through you Kaleidoscope and Miss Bawdiness.

2011-03-02T22:22:00.001+01:00

This season I couldn't go to Milan for the shows, no business reason and too much to do otherwise, but this picture from the Satorialist sums up what I love about Milan

It seems that models in shapes found among women who are not starvlings are finding their way to the runway. The contretemps of last year about body mass and the health of models is having a positive effect. From the Botega Veneta collection photo by the Satorialist

Reviewing the Milan show photos, I'm thinking that my fall wardrobe might have an Italian accent. Prada, photo by Garance Doré

Tomorrow the auto show opens to the public, who should be pleased as there are an number of striking cars, both soon to be produced and prototypes. The mood here among the industry people is one of excitement, that they are moving forward to better days. A marked improvement over last years gallows humor and the depression of two years ago. It has been a fun couple of days. As usual I'll stay through the public opening tomorrow and move on. I had a couple of good meetings and there will be some business coming our way, which always makes me happy.

Kim

2011-03-01T22:36:00.001+01:00

Delusional

"They are not against us. No-one is against us. Against us for what? Because I'm not a president. They love me. All my people are with me, they love me all. They will die to protect me, my people."
Muammar Gaddafi

"I'm tired of pretending like I'm not special," Sheen told NBC. "I'm tired of pretending like I'm not bitching a total freaking rock star from Mars. And people can't figure me out. They can't process me. I don't expect them to. You can't process me with a normal brain."
Charley Sheen

It should be noted that Sheen's attitude is not uncommon among celebrities, but that he'd say it openly is proof that he is no longer living in the norm.

During my time as a companion, I avoided celebrities and particularly athletes as much as possible, one actually told me that I should be paying him for sex and I sensed others had the same attitude. Funny thing was that guy was horrible in bed.

K

2011-02-28T07:05:00.002+01:00

Men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.

They don't know what they're missing.

Kim

2011-02-27T16:41:00.004+01:00

Signs of spring are about, the fall-winter fashion weeks are ongoing and the tribe has arrived in Paris for the shows starting Tuesday. Though I'll miss the festivities as I'm in transit to Geneva for the auto show, which if truth be told, I enjoy more than fashion week.

Looking forward to spring it's time to replace the snow covered bicycles in the Picture of the Moment with one from the Spring-Fall Chanel collection at last fall's fashion week.

The sidebar has been updated, eliminating some dead links and adding a new one, Ninja without a clue. Sarahf is the first blogger from Japan to link to Mercurial Girl and I'd like to return the favor.

Kim

2011-02-25T07:03:00.001+01:00

The last few weeks have have been busy as will the next few, with the Paris shows and the Geneva automobile show. With that in mind, I'm starting my weekend early and pointing Buster westward to the beach in hopes of winter surf. It will too soon as I will travel to Geneva Sunday evening.

Oh and don't be shy if someone provokes your interest, if you don't suggest an assignation, it won't happen.

Kim

2011-02-23T16:58:00.003+01:00

The Map of Non-Monogamy

Click to enlarge
and here for an explanation

Kim

2011-02-23T16:52:00.000+01:00

The Evolution of a Date

Click on image to enlarge

Kim

2011-02-21T20:54:00.000+01:00

A benefit that has come from Kenny bringing his family to Paris over Christmas has been that I’m now closer to my nieces and nephew. Rather than being Aunty Kim, who blew into their lives once a year for a day or so when they were enmeshed with their friends and interests, they got to spend blocks of time with me and see where I live and the places that I like to go.

Saturday evening as I was getting ready to go out, my various devices began squawking with an incoming Skype, it was the twins, they were out shopping with their mother and wanted my input on some clothes, i.e. would fashionable teens in Paris wear this and could you take pictures of what kids wear and send them to us?

The girls are in that period between childhood and adolescents and they careen between the two by the minute. Catherine confided that on the agenda for them in the coming weeks would be shopping for their first bras, something she looked forward to, but also dreaded. I told her that one of the first things I’d noticed about them, was that they were getting a bit of shape through their hips and bum. She acknowledged that and said it was like one morning they woke up and the little girls were gone.

On one visit to my apartment, they asked if they could look through my closet. I had to consider that a moment in case there was something I’d rather them not stumble across, but that stuff was in my storage space, so I let them. Off they went with Molly following along as I had followed Grace and Leah, not quite knowing why but figuring anything they were doing would be more interesting that what I was. When I finished what I was doing I joined them while Mathew continued to entertain himself by playing Tony Hawk and learning about dinosaurs, his current fascination.

When I got to the room I found them with a few items out and taking turns standing in front of the mirror holding a dress in front of them. My closet passed their fashion sensibility. As they looked at items, they asked where I would wear a dress or suit and what would I have on with it. They giggled at the mention of dates. Finally bored with outerwear, they wanted to look through my lingerie drawer.

Admittedly I like fancy knickers and as they each lifted out a bra and panty set they giggled again and exclaimed that their mother would have anything like that. Which made me smile, knowing what Catherine had purchased for her rendezvous with Kenny. A basque and the suspenders intrigued them and they found it surprising that I didn’t wear pantyhose, only stockings. The show closed when one held up a lacy G-string and exclaimed that their mother wouldn’t let them wear anything like that. And well she shouldn’t I told them, that they would someday be old enough, but for now needed to wait.

Kim

2011-02-16T19:06:00.000+01:00

It’s a funny feeling to be surfing the street fashion blogs and stumble upon your own picture. You think a moment and remember the prior week, on the square someone asked to take your picture, you agree and then go about your day. There are several dozen comments and with trepidation you open them. With relief the first few think you’re cute or pretty and the hat is adorable, while someone else wants to know where the boots are from. Your ego soars, then “she’s a skank,” “I’d give that hat to my cat” and so forth. Fortunately the majority of comments are complementary.

FYI readers, this happened months ago, the blog is not one of those on my sidebar and may not have occurred in Paris.

Kim

2011-02-15T21:57:00.000+01:00

Andre arrived at my apartment around 6:30 pushing a hand truck with two large boxes. That had me thinking that his surprise was that he was moving in. Soon it was revealed that one box contained the makings of dinner, but the other was still a mystery.

I’ll admit I had my concerns about Andre making dinner; his kitchen consists of a hotplate, a microwave and a refrigerator that sometimes works, plus a grill on the loading dock. Water is found in the bathroom that is out in the hall and he’s been known to heat water with an acetylene torch on low. But those concerns were for naught as making for Andre meant that he was buying heat and serve lasagna, the makings of a salad, some vegetables, dessert and a bottle of wine.

On getting situated in the kitchen, he opened a bottle of wine, poured each of us a glass and offered a toast to us and gave me a big kiss. Then I was ordered out of my own kitchen so he could do his magic. There was a lot door and drawer openings and closings followed by “Kim, where is…” or “Kim, do you…” Finally he emerged and announced dinner would be ready in an hour and a half. Fortunately I’d thought of appetizers and a bit of smooching passed the time till dinner was ready.

The lasagna was very good and the chocolate-raspberry torte was heavenly. He did a great job and I was suitably impressed as this was turning out to be a perfect Valentine’s Day. After dinner he offered to walk Wags and I slipped into something, ahem, more comfortable. On his return there was much deep kissing and cooing, but then he chased me off to the bedroom, saying he needed to prepare his surprise. The mood was broken a bit, but it was worth it when he came for me and led me out with my eyes covered. Something smelled good and he revealed that he’d transformed the living room into a temporary spa with a massage mat (with Wags sitting in the middle), surrounded by scented candles and properly warmed oils. Sigh, I was still feeling the glow of last evening at noon and when I think of it I smile.

Kim

2011-02-13T16:59:00.000+01:00

Gee, for the first time in what feels forever, I’ll not be joining the lonely hearts for Valentine’s Day. Andre plans to make me dinner and has a surprise. On the one hand I’m giddy and on the other, the selfish narcissist in me is saying he better get it right. That conflict will resolve itself and my better angel will prevail.

Kim

2011-02-10T21:55:00.000+01:00

Last evening, Andre and I, joined Denise and her lover for dinner at one of Paris’ sex clubs and stayed for the evening. D and her friend wander off for their excitement and I properly inducted A to the club as this was his first experience.

He joked about choosing someone for me to have sex with and I dared him to. That discomforted him, but then settled on an attractive woman, perhaps a little older than me. I caught her attention, told her of A’s selection. She smiled and was willing and off we went to one of the corners with our entourage in tow. One thing I’ve noticed about A is that he’s a bit possessive of me, though I would like a softer description than possessive, so I took that his selection of a woman for my partner, was less threatening to him.

After I suggested that turn about was fair play and that I should choose someone for him, cockily* he went along with that. After carefully reviewing the assembled, I selected a delectable specimen, a fellow near our age. A turned numerous colors, none of which were normal.

*pun intended.

Kim

2011-02-03T17:16:00.002+01:00

This morning I called Ahmad, my long time driver and asked his thoughts on the events in Egypt, his home country. Behind the concern for the day's violence, I could hear the smile in his voice. He went on to tell me about the conversations he's had with relatives and of the banter in the community and then he exclaimed, "We are going to have a Democracy, finally Mubarak will be gone and we'll have a Democracy."

Let's hope so.

Kim

2011-02-01T21:00:00.002+01:00

Chrystia Freeland wrote an interesting article in the Atlantic, The Rise of the New Global Elite.

What is more relevant to our times, though, is that the rich of today are also different from the rich of yesterday. Our light-speed, globally connected economy has led to the rise of a new super-elite that consists, to a notable degree, of first- and second-generation wealth. Its members are hardworking, highly educated, jet-setting meritocrats who feel they are the deserving winners of a tough, worldwide economic competition—and many of them, as a result, have an ambivalent attitude toward those of us who didn’t succeed so spectacularly. Perhaps most noteworthy, they are becoming a transglobal community of peers who have more in common with one another than with their countrymen back home. Whether they maintain primary residences in New York or Hong Kong, Moscow or Mumbai, today’s super-rich are increasingly a nation unto themselves.

At times I’ve been able to push my way up to the window and press my nose against the glass to see inside this elite and I even get invited in once and a while to improve the atmospherics and to give blow jobs. But then it’s out with Kim and that’s all right as I’m pretty happy and reasonably comfortable in my little world with my petite bourgeois friends.

What is life like in elite world, Felix Salmon gives us taste from last week in Davos.

The prize for most obnoxious party at Davos was won on the first night, with the Davos Tasting put on by the Wine Forum.

And

The plutocrats at Davos, of course, both western and eastern, are exactly the kind of people who spend thousands of dollars a bottle on fine wines. But they’re also driven and single-minded executives who naturally gravitate to the obvious and middlebrow in other areas: if they’re buying art, they’ll plump for something shiny by Damien Murakoons (both Hirst and Koons are in Davos this week), while the big-name creative types here are the likes of Jose Carreras, Peter Gabriel, and Paulo Coelho.
Wine here, then, is judged with executives’ eyes rather than their noses. They look at the label first and then at two crucial numbers: the number of points it gets from Robert Parker or Wine Spectator and the cost in dollars.

Concluding

The result was basically a drunken mess. Revelers would cluster around stations loaded up with fine wine, getting large pours of increasingly-indistinguishable heavy cabernets, competing to find the Cheval Blanc and Le Pin (which were naturally considered the most desirable wines, just because they were the most expensive), all the while fighting off jetlag and concentrating mainly on greeting their old Davos buddies and catching up on gossip. (Update: I forgot to mention that all the wine was served “pop-and-pour” style, where a wine would run out, a waiter would run to get another bottle, would open it, and then immediately start pouring it into various partiers’ glasses. No decanting, no time to breathe, nothing. Maybe the reason I liked the Barolo so much was that it had been sitting open for a while by the time I got to it.)

Hee hee.

On a different note and since we haven’t had many videos lately. Rachel, knowing I’m a roots and fruits sort of gal, sent along PETA’s Superbowl ad for my enjoyment and yours.

Kim

2011-01-26T23:06:00.000+01:00

Girls’ night out last evening to see the Black Swan and eating of course. I’ve been holding off on seeing it till Anne Marie and I could coordinate our schedules, Hannah and Denise joined us. I started taking ballet lessons at three and grew up convinced I would be a famous ballerina. At about thirteen I finally gave up that dream, but kept up my lessons for a couple of more years as the discipline was a welcomed distraction from the growing chaos in my life. The highlight of my ballet career was being a mouse in the county ballet production of the Nutcracker. In college, I began dancing again, though not seriously. Today those years of training haven’t been lost as I still start each day with the stretching exercises and use the fence next to my apartment building as a barre

We loved the movie, with our only complaint being that there should have been more dance scenes. AM also is a refugee from dance class, though for her it was a means to improve her balance for her true sporting love, skiing. It’s interesting, the sexual harassment and the eating disorders depicted in the film are similar to that found in modeling. I asked AM about skiing and she said the harassment happens though the eating disorders less so as pressure is to get stronger not look thinner or smaller.

Kim

2011-01-19T22:06:00.001+01:00

For a while I’ve been meaning to link to Bianca, a Toronto based companion who is contributing essays at McSweeney’s . Read her stuff it’s good. From today’s piece.

Most of my clients open with, "Hello," but Jason greeted me with "You're early! What the fuck?!"

"I'm a corporate lawyer. A hired goon for Fortune 500's looking to buy other smaller companies," he said.
"Oh, I bet that's nice," I replied.
"Do you? Would you really know much about it? Do you have any education at all? Or are you just a hooker?"

When I worked for Marie, I had a couple of clients like that. The first time I was new and pretty naive, so I put up with the abuse. The second one I walked out on him, but I knew that I had Marie's support if that is what I chose, my lesson from the first experience. But that can be hard at many agencies.

Oh, I bet he lives with his parents and that they are out of town.

Kim

2011-01-19T21:17:00.004+01:00

Andre appeared this afternoon. We had a drink and talked, though if he was hoping to be invited back he was out of luck as I have too much to do.

Curious I asked what he thought about my having been an escort. He told me that his first reaction was surprise, but as the thought about it, he understood it was a business. Frankly I was a bit leery about that and then he threw me by saying that knowing that I was paid to be with men was something he found erotic.

Hmmm.

Another thing: News regarding other romances. Last week salary man canceled a date. He's returning to his former GF or more accurately she's returning to him. Too bad, I was beginning to find him interesting.

Kim

2011-01-18T21:18:00.005+01:00

It is well known that marketers plumb contemporary and historical popular culture for hooks that are both fresh and familiar in order to promote a product or service. I’m no different; if you saw me in a café or on the Métro staring at a netbook or IPad, or flipping through and old magazines, what I probably would be doing is looking a photos and YouTube clips for inspiration and filing ideas away for the future.

Thoughts of Hannah, Anne Marie’s girlfriend, had me exploring the well worn path of Scandinavian beauties, when I came across a trove of screen tests filmed by Andy Warhol. The 60’s model/singer Nico had caught my attention and led me to the tests, but I was soon distracted by another.

Though the calendar said it was still winter, spring was about. Buds were about to pop and it was easy to imagine that the dogwoods and magnolias would soon follow. Mid-terms were over and I was entering the stretch run of my freshman year at college. I’d settled on a major, arts administration, which later became part of a double major with marketing. Why? When I visited Grace in NY the people she knew that I found most interesting were affiliated with the arts, not necessarily the artists themselves, but the people who created the infrastructure that fostered the art industry.

Each year the chairman of the arts department had an Ides of March party and since I was taking courses in the department I was invited. His home was several blocks off campus in a turn of the last century neighborhood of substantial but not ostentatious homes. The guests were a mix of students, faculty/staff and members of the local arts community. The guest of honor was a one of the chairman’s former professors, a rumpled; gentleman in his 70’s who frankly gave me the creeps.

I kept catching him looking at me, even in mirrors, and a friend made a comment. I felt as if he were an old lecher masturbating while watching me from behind a blind and then as luck would have it I found myself caught in a small hall with the exit behind him. He said hello, in a manner that you could imagine a pedophile might approach a child and then he told me that I reminded him of Edie. “Edie,” I questioned? “Edie Sedgwick,” he replied. I had no idea who that was but didn’t want to let him know that. “How so?” “Your vivaciousness and spirit, how you dominate the room and challenge others. Your appearance you are as waifish as she.” Then he seemed less threatening, but just as weird and I excused myself and passed.

Later I’d figure out who Edie was. The vivaciousness he saw was likely the shared propensity for manic-depressive behaviors. That night I was on the rise heading toward all night sessions cleaning the grout of the bathroom tile with a toothbrush. As for my appearance, that was still my period of experimenting and the mini dress (I have pictures) that I wore that night was a rummage sale find, a tunic from a pant-suit repurposed. That week I was channeling Twiggy and the 60’s Mods. The sleeveless, cream colored dress with a V-neck had red ribbons trimming the collar and arm holes and faux red buttons down the front, paired with glitter-tights and red flats. Add to that very short hair, Twiggy-ish makeup with dangly earrings and every necklace that Rachel and I owned, yes I looked precious and those pictures will never again see the light of day.

Among the Warhol screen tests, is Edie’s and after viewing it, I looked at several other videos that featured her. After spending an hour, I can safely say that any resemblance was a figment of an elderly man's memory, but I got an idea. We have a new intern, a waif with a meter of dark brown hair, off she’s going to a photographer and a videographer. If she’s photogenic…

Kim

2011-01-13T21:51:00.000+01:00

It’s was early and the office was quiet, like a Saturday. It was an odd morning where everyone was out and our administrative assistant was home with a sick child. The phone rang and I looked at the computer screen and wonder who is calling that number.

“Hello”
“Kim?”
“Yes,”
“This is Gavin, remember me?”
“Of course I do. How are you?”

The conversation goes on; he came to Paris previous night and expected to leave this afternoon. That changed and he wants to see me. It has been, what, four years since I’d seen him and certainly didn’t expect to see him again. Though the business press provided updates on his activities.

“When were you thinking of getting together?”
“This afternoon at two? Let me check, would three work?”
“Good and yes that is still my wire number.”

After my lunch meeting I went home to freshen and retrieved Waldo for transportation, who I deposited at the valet stand. The Hilton La Defense is an indistinguishable, nouveau corporate property that presents the air of luxury without delivering the essence. The kind of place Gavin would be comfortable. Crossing the lobby I tried to remember when the last time I was there, it had been awhile, and these chain hotels all look alike.

He answered the door, almost before I was finished knocking. A hug and a kiss, followed by looks of mutual admiration. In truth he looked like hell. He had gained back some of the weight he lost and now was a slightly soft fifty year old, rather than the middle aged stud muffin of our last meeting. He looked tired, his color was washed out and he was noticeably greyer and balding. I hoped the past four years have been kinder to my appearance.

He offered me a drink and then we sat and talked. He asked about Kim & Co. and confessed that he looked us up now and again to see how we were doing. I asked about his business and he mostly avoided the question. I knew that the past two years were rough and even if he never teetered on the edge of bankruptcy, he was too close for comfort.

His phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call. After twenty minutes or so he returned and our conversation restarted. It was apparent that whatever his thoughts were when he called, now he wanted to talk. So we did and were regularly interrupted by phone calls, till finally at six his assistant called to say they needed to leave for a meeting.

As we were saying our good-bys, he asked if I came to England and could we get together. I told I could, but I’d need to plan as I wasn’t regularly going to London. He said he’d be in touch.

Kim

2011-01-08T10:03:00.000+01:00

On our shopping spree before Christmas, I ran into Sabine. As we had just started up an escalator when she called out to me, we simply agreed to lunch after New Year. Then she held up her hand and the glittering rock on her finger, blinded all in view. Having not seen her in a couple of years, I’d want to catch up and the ring made in more intriguing.

Her husband, they married a few months ago, was a client of her agency. When they met at a party, she thought she recognized his name and when he gave her his number it matched. After a few dates she told him. Needless to say he was surprised, but it passed. It became serious and they talked of getting married or PACSed. The agency was a problem, as it would embarrass him greatly if she were to be exposed or arrested, and her closing it was a condition that she gladly agreed to.

I haven’t seen hide nor hair of André, not that I haven’t heard from him. There was a lovely missive on Christmas and messages most days, but he hasn’t felt the need to see me. This is a pattern; he wants to see me a few days in a row and then disappears for a few weeks. Whatever, how this relationship develops or doesn’t is OK, he’s fun to be with and interesting, but I’m not the sit home and wait type. Particularly when the boring, but nice salary man keeps asking me out.

Tonight is his office’s holiday party and he asked me along, it could be boring or mildly interesting, though from what he says about his peers, it could be interesting.

Kim

2010-12-30T21:39:00.000+01:00

As is their custom, Dad and Juliette went out to her family’s farm after Christmas, which was a rousing success. Christmas Eve is when Juliette’s family gets together and it was interesting watching the children interact as the only common language was child. Saturday, we all were up early to see if Santa found the kids. It had been a big worry about not being home at Christmas. Everyone was pleased that they weren’t missed and Santa left a note saying that there would be additional presents at home.

I slipped off to prepare the turkey with Catherine’s assistance and soon we were joined by the kids. They had picked up that this was Grammy’s turkey that their father knew growing up. The eldest, the twins, have memories of Mom, as she spent a few weeks a year at Kenny’s. They had also surmised that not all was right with Mom and that over time they understood that she committed suicide and now comprehended what that meant. I tell you it was hard preparing dinner. I explained the best I could about bi-polar disorder and they seem to understand some of it. But then they wanted to hear Grammy stories, as if they were trying to fill out their memories of her.

Tuesday and Wednesday, Kenny and Catherine slipped off for their rendezvous and on Wednesday I took responsibility for the kids. They decided that rather than stay Wednesday night at Dad’s, where they could have their own beds, they’d rather stay at my place and all share a bed. So that morning we put together overnight bags and set off for my apartment via the Métro, the older two each being responsible for a sibling and a stern warning that if they wandered off we might never find them again as they didn’t speak French to tell the police who they were. It worked.

I had a plan; a variation of the, a tired dog is a good dog plan. A tired kid is a good kid. After dropping the stuff at my place we headed for the Hôtel de Ville and the skating rink. That was followed by hot chocolate and lunch. Then it was back to my neighborhood and sliding on card board toboggans in the park. Back at the apartment the heat was turned up and pasta, heavy with sauce, cheese and sausage was for dinner. It worked, on before the next they drifted off to sleep. I was tired to and pulled out the inflatable bed and crawled in around nine. After the light went out, I heard Wags leave my side heading to the children and found him spooned with Molly in the morning.

This morning they were fussed over by my neighbors at a local café and we then headed back to Dad’s.

I was watching them play in the park when the love birds came up the sidewalk holding hands in that little state of bliss, that visitors want in Paris. The romantic getaway was working its wonders, but reality soon intruded as the kids spotted them. I left them then and I reached the corner, turned back and took a picture of the happy family.

Kim

2010-12-24T11:20:00.001+01:00

Merry Christmas
to everyone. May each and everyone of you
receive that special gift the returns the wonder of
the Christmas that we knew as children.
Kim

2010-12-22T22:18:00.000+01:00

Catherine, my sister-in-law, and I had a wonderful day, we spent lots of money, particularly her, and bought lots of lovely things. We started at the Galeries Lafayette then to Printemps, a stop at my office to unload our stash then off to lunch at Hôtel Crillon. Refreshed we headed for La Perla. Ou la la, Kenny is going to have quite a late present to unwrap, his eyes and something else will bulge and then to Colette for a lovely frock to serve as a wrapper for the wrapper.

They are going to leave the kids at Dad’s and slip off the Ritz, a gift from her parents, for a couple of romantic days. With how C will look, they may never get out of the room.

Kim

2010-12-20T19:17:00.002+01:00

My brother and his family made it to Paris after some delays. Everyone is tired, the children are fussing and whiny, while the parents are grumpy and wondering why they didn't send the kids as luggage.

Vacation festivities have been deferred to the morrow after a nights sleep.

2010-12-20T09:20:00.000+01:00

My brother and his family arrive this morning. Depending on the effects of jet lag, they will come to the office this afternoon to see Kim & Co. and we'll get some dinner and check out the Christmas displays.

2010-12-19T11:47:00.001+01:00

It certainly has been an interesting morning and the snow and cold have nothing to do with it. André left a bit ago, but before that we had a conversation that I’m still trying to sort out.

The morning began like they all do around here, with Wags demanding to go out. André took him, while I made us coffee and toast and then we went back to bed. After some recreation, we laid back and talked. He brought up Denise, this didn’t surprise me, as he knows that she and I have been fuck buddies and I know also that she has slept with him. I’ve been expecting that he would ask about a threesome. But he surprised me.

“Do you know that D is having an affair with __________,” he asked, a wealthy art collector and very married. I told him that I knew that, but I didn’t tell him that he was also supporting her. “They go to sex clubs, did you know that?” This I also knew but feigned surprised. “And that he chooses men to have sex with her while he watches.” I had all I could do to keep from laughing. “So your telling me that ______ has a kink and good for D to find someone who helps her fill her kink,” I said. He looked at me, perplexed, I could see that he was struggling with getting his mind around this.

Poor André he tries so hard at being the hippster artist, but at times the small town boy comes out with the straw is stuck behind his ear. “You knew all this?” He asked. “She’s invited me along,” I said watching his reaction. “She has? Have you?” His voice almost cracked. Deciding it was best to neither confirm nor deny, I simply said that a woman is entitled to some secrets. I’m pretty sure that he believes that I haven’t as he went on about why D has.

Talked out about that he was quiet for a few minutes and then mentioned that he ran into Roger _____, Denise’s ex-husband. We made small talk about that for a minute and then the words almost burst out of André, Roger said that when he first met you that you worked as a prostitute. It was my turn to scramble for words and after a few seconds I said simply “Roger is indiscreet.” “Then it’s true? He asked and I nodded. Then asked him how he felt about that and if it bothered him. Since this was out in the open I wanted, needed to know how he felt. “It’s fine, it’s all right, really,” he answered. Though I’m sure he was trying to convince himself.

Then he dragged out another skeleton, “Last week I met Charles _________,” Dennis _________ introduced us. Dennis is a gossipy gallery owner. “And he told me that you were once Charles’ mistress.” “Can’t a girl make a mistake and forget about it?” I said looking at him. He got the point and let it go.

“Kim can I ask something of you?” “Of course, what is it?” He stuttered a bit in getting it out but then he asked me that if in the future I worked as a prostitute that he wanted to know and he wanted me to tell him. I said that I would and asked him that if I did, would he be OK with that. Not at all convincingly, he said he would.

Kim