The Adventures of Naughty Miss Jones

'cos naughty miss jones knows vibrators. Visit me at http://www.naughtymissjones.com.au

lexi

I have reason to believe” bellowed Lexi’s boss across the desk “that there has been a happening of sexual relations in this office

Lexi looked shocked. She wasn’t, of course; but after years of taking statements from people, people who seemed to believe the encroachment of a fence or a build running slightly behind schedule was akin to a national disaster, Lexi has mastered the shocked look.

Look here” he continued “at exhibit A

From his desk drawer he produced a photograph. It was, on close inspection, the edge of the boardroom table, with a clear lipstick smear across the corner (coral crush, thought Lexi, there from when I was being taken by James from behind, and had to use the table-top to stifle the screams of pleasure).

And exhibit B”.

This time her boss produced a bottle of lubricant. Strawberry-kiwi, Lexi noted fondly, (the taste of sweet tanginess having added an element of summery fun to that boardroom escapade)  at the same time silently reprimanding herself for forgetting it in their haste to get out of the office that Christmas eve (and also because she would very much like to use it again, and she dare not ask for it back).

What does this mean?” asked Lexi, maintaining her composure, always the professional.

It means” he started “That we are going to have to get rid of Ambrosia. I just can’t tolerate this sort of conduct in my own office”

It took some hours, long after Lexi had left the office, for the guilt to set in. After carefully examining the exhibits, all the while maintaining the look of shock, Lexi had left the office, and headed home. Could she really let poor Ambrosia take the fall? But what would owning up mean? Her boss had been clear, he simply would not tolerate that kind of conduct in his office.

Later that evening, James panting beside her after yet another session (involving a second bottle of the fabulous kiwi strawberry lube; James was nothing if not resourceful), Lexi turned to her lover.

My boss, he knows someone was in the office on Christmas eve, and he knows what they did

While Lexi’s own look of shock had been fake, she had no doubt of the genuineness of that now on James’ face. His cheeks suddenly drained of colour, the cool, confident exterior was immediately replaced with pure panic. “Does he know it was me?” he asked.

No” she responded, “He doesn’t know it was me, either. He seems to think it was poor Ambrosia

All of a sudden, James was upon her. Just not in the same way he had been half an hour before. “Lexi“.. he started, straddling her stomach, large hands around her face, forcing her gaze to him “You can absolutely, 100% not let anyone know it was me. Let Ambrosia take the wrap. Promise me, promise me I won’t be implicated

But you’re the boss” she responded meekly, the weight of him pressing down slightly on her abdomen “Surely you can’t get in trouble for this?”

You don’t understand Lexi” he began, his voice softening, lifting his weight from her “This isn’t the first time I’ve been involved in something like this… and, you see… I’m not exactly single”

Lexi pushed him off her, unable to continue to meet his eyes, and turned to her stomach.

And, just like that, that kiwi strawberry lube suddenly didn’t seem so sweet.

Naughty Miss Jones xx

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lexi

It had been a long, hot summer for Lexi. The closure of the office meant a temporary reprise from files, paper, and the ever-uncomfortable court shoes. But it did not, most certainly, mean a reprise from James.

The thrill of almost getting caught, the body heat radiating from him as they huddled together under the boardroom table, the stolen, passionate kisses executed with silence while Lexi’s own boss was just meters away was almost too much, and had triggered in her a longing she had never before felt; a longing to explore every inch of this man, and explore it often.

It’s summer, baby, so let’s get slippery and wet”. So was his invitation in the email received just hours before the office closure on Christmas eve. Subtle it wasn’t, but it did the trick.

Over the summer they met, almost daily, and tried something new. There was the stainless steel dildo that James extracted from the fridge one particularly steamy day, providing cool relief and sensation simultaneously. It was cold, sure, but it was also very, very hot.

Or the waterproof vibe, administered by James under a cold shower, so intense it left Lexi herself but a puddle on the floor.

Or the vibrating panties James produced, together with an order they, alone, be worn for the duration of the evening.

Oh yes” thought Lexi to herself as she sipped a glass of wine and reclined into the bathtub, just days before she was to return to the drudgery of the office. “That was one hot summer

Beep.

Her blissful thoughts were rudely interrupted with an incoming text. Hoping it was James she reached across to the bathroom cabinet and grabbed her phone.

But it was not James. Instead, the message and its contents were so unsettling she almost dropped the phone into the tub, and immediately erased Lexi’s plans to use her vibrating rubber duckie while reliving some of the hotter moments.

“Lexi, its your boss. I hope u hav had a nice break. Unfortunately, something has come to my attention which I must discuss with you as a matter of         URGENCY. Please meet me at the office at 9am. You may have a support person present. I am aware tomorrow is a Saturday”

And, all of a sudden, things weren’t looking so hot for Lexi

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Naughty Miss Jones xx

lexi

The marble topped boardroom table was made for meetings. Not hard core sex sessions with heavenly voiced clients. Still, thought Lexi, the cool hard touch of the table’s surface made for a pleasant sensation, even it meant she’d be nursing some pretty hard core bruising in coming days.

James hadn’t even bothered to schedule a meeting this time, instead turning up just us the office was closing, bundle of documents under one arm, his well-worn briefcase tucked under the other. Ambrosia had been there when he arrived, helping Lexi collate yet another mountain of papers into an easy to read brief but, used to demanding clients being, well, demanding, she left, unbothered, shortly after James had arrived.

And as soon as she had closed the door behind her, James started, picking Lexi up and carrying her into the boardroom without so much as a simple ‘hello’.

The furiousness of his movements was intense. Lexi could feel her heart beating in her chest and her mouth open with longing. Long, hard stokes tickled her inside. Without stopping his movement, she saw James reach down and grab the briefcase. Surely he’s not going to want advice on the documents now? she thought, confused, but too enraptured in the pleasure to say anything at all.

And then, out of the briefcase, James pulled an object. It was small, palm of the hand small, egg shaped, and pink. While pretty, Lexi didn’t really understand what it was for. That is, until it was on her. As he continued to stroke her insides with his manhood, Lexi felt the tip of the object being placed, and then removed, placed, and then removed, on her pleasure button. The feeling was powerful. Sexy, intense, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

Just as the pleasure was getting too much, and she could feel her legs rising by themselves to kick him away and provide some release from the intensity, Lexi felt the object lift. James slowed down as he moved the pink object to the tabletop’s edge, just below his package, so that it tickled him from below, and almost instantly his eyes rolled back in his head with pleasure as he regained momentum.

Just as Lexi was about to scream in pleasure, she heard something that made her heart drop. Faint, but undeniable, Lexi heard the main door click open, and footsteps wander into the office. James must have heard it too, and instantly the pleasure was over (albeit he was still inside her), while they both looked, panicked into each other eyes. The groans and gasps of pleasure gave way to silence, and all that could be heard from the boardroom was the faint buzzing of the object from its resting place between the table and James……..

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Naughty Miss Jones xx

lexi

Missed chapter 1? Catch up here: https://naughtymissjones.wordpress.com/2015/10/22/lexis-sexi-story-chapter-1-the-client-the-voice-the-butterfly-kiss/

Miss chapter 2? Catch up here https://naughtymissjones.wordpress.com/2015/10/29/lexis-sexi-story-chapter-2-do-you-take-house-calls/

Days had passed since James’ house call. The adds had run. Job well done. And Lexi had, again, found herself subject to a daily mountain of paperwork, approvals and affidavits; correspondence and copies. ‘Sometimes the world of law’, she thought to herself (for what must have been the forty-second-thousandth time), ‘is just too bloody much’.

And then, as if answering her silent call, an email appeared in her in-box from James.

the board happy with your work on the most recent campaign. New campaign, different medium, starts next week, will let you know deets. Also, I’d ike to rip your knickers off with my teeth

Lexi read, and re-read, the e-mail. More work! And, more importantly, more orgasms!

Would be delighted to assist” she responded, before her nerves could get the better of her “On both accounts ; )”

Before she could even give herself a pat on the back for being the sexy beast she knew she was, another email appeared.

Will schedule an appointment with your secretary. In the meantime, I’m getting hard just thinking about it

And, almost instantly, another

What would you do with that hardness?”

Lexi looked at the mountains of paperwork that had been her captor for days. Then she looked at the screen, feeling an instant moistness as she re-read those words.

The decision of what to do next was all but decided for her.

L: “I would show it whats its been missing. I’d get it out, set it free, but then not touch it, while I tease every other millimeter of your bare skin

J: “Would you let me undress you as you did so? Starting with the undies off with teeth, of course

L: “Yes, but only if you begged first. And only if you promised to do so slowly. Like in slow motion

J: “But I want to go fast

L: “I won’t let you. Slow and steady, mister.  Slow and steady and steamy…..”

J: “And what will you do if I’m a bad boy and try to go fast?”

Lexi, are you ok, you’re all red. I have the Mac brief here for you, just finished putting it together now” Lexi’s secretary, Ambrosia, stood at her open door way, cradling the A4 folder that contained the brief.

Yes, I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed with the amount of work!” Lexi quickly covered for herself, minimizing her inbox screen with one swift movement.

Sure” Ambrosia shrugged, crossing the threshold and dumping the folder on Lexi’s desk. “No problems, I’ll just shut your door and make sure no calls are put through for the next few hours, you know, give you a chance to catch up”

As she did so, Lexi started to compose her response

L: “If you’d been a bad boy, I would tie your hands together to stop them undressing me and…”

And so the email exchange went on. Hard. Fast. Sexy as hell. Just as their encounter the week before had been. It was contrary to public policy to use office email accounts in this way, and, if caught, Lexi knew she would be in huge trouble with the partners. And, yet, this was the most fun she had had in, well, since the house visit, really.

Later that night, Lexi read, and re-read, the emails on her phone in bed. She knew she would have to delete them, Ambrosia often jumped on her computer to check a date or print off something needed for a meeting, but she just wanted to drag the enjoyment out that little bit longer.

As she got to the part where he was tied up, legs sprawled on her bed, Lexi reached into her bottom drawer and pulled out her On Ice arousal oil, dropping a few little drops onto herself, allowing her clitoris to tingle and pulsate in pleasure as she re-read the words, touching herself, allowing her imagination to run wild.

The oil did the trick, and Lexi soon, only a few more emails along the chain, found herself gasping and pulsating in pleasure.

“Wow” she thought to herself, as she rolled over and, finally, hit the trashcan icon to delete the chain“If he can do this to me via email…”

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Naughty Miss Jones xx

lexi

Missed chapter 1? Catch up here: https://naughtymissjones.wordpress.com/2015/10/22/lexis-sexi-story-chapter-1-the-client-the-voice-the-butterfly-kiss/

Won’t be able to make it in the city. Need this done by 9am, print run tmrw. Do you take house calls in the evening”

The email received from James was no nonsense, to the point, and just a little bit cheeky. ‘House calls?’ thought Lexi, ‘the bloody nerve of him’.

Almost a week had passed since Lexi met James in her office. Thanks to her trust butterfly kiss, and a few its fellow bottow-drawer dwelling buddies, she had managed to make it through the week wihout internally combusting at the memory of him. Him and that voice.

And now that voice was in her life again (albeit in the words of an email).

Of course Lexi didn’t normally take house calls from her clients. She was a lawyer, not a physcic or a beautician. But then most of her clients didn’t have the effect on her that James had so obviously had. And the ridged world of documents and diaries and suits and submissions had certainly been getting to her of late, stifling her inner cheekiness and leaving her with a longing for adventure.

Sure. 12 North St Alexandria. Will be there from 7.30”. She had typed the words before she could stop herself.

And, then, there he was. Just as she had remembered him. Except now at her doorstop.

Like last time, he said little, and after a quick nod strode into her home like he owned the place, sitting himself on the couch and kicking off his shoes, plonking down his brief case with a thud.

And before she could launch into her prepared speil outlining her concerns that some of the content of his adds could be construed as misleading, he was on her. Pulling him to her. Yanking her hair tie from her sensible pony and schaking out her hair with his rough hands. Grabbing her. Tasting her. Feeling her.

It was, hands down, one of the hottest and most intense moments of Lexi’s life. In a moment of sheer abandon she allowed herself to give into the process, bucking hersef against him, feeling his strain through their matching dark grey suit bottoms.

She led him by the hand into the bedroom, and before he could say no, had him bottomless on her bed, where she proceeded to drip over him a sticky, cherry mess, rubbing it into his neck, his chest, his arms, his legs and licking off each little drop, savoring the sickly cherry taste mixed with the taste of pure him. The lubrication allowed her hands and her tongue to glide over him with ease, a sensation so lovely she could almost feel his longing with her touch. Finally, she held the bottle up and allowed its contents to trickle down his rock hard manhood. Even without human touch, the coolness of the gliding substance caused James to buck roughly in pleasure, before releasing.

After catching his breath, James turned to her, still naked and glistening from the waist down.

“So Lexi” He began “About those adverts?”

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Naughty Miss Jones xx

lexi

Lately, I’ve been working like a dog. Well, not like an actual dog, all Pearl’s life seems to consist of is being fed, walked and belly rubbed, pretty sweet really, but you get my drift. As a result of my ever mounting to-do list, there has been little time for blog-worthy adventures in my world of late. So I’m going to do try something different. Adventures… but not as you know it.

I’m going to write about the adventures I wish I was having. Risqué fiction if you will[1]. Allow me to introduce you to my fictional adventurous self, Lexi Devine. Over the next 8 weeks I’ll write a chapter of her sexy adventurous tale. Starting right now:

Most of Lexi’s clients were bald, and slightly pudgy. In her years working as an Associate at the esteemed firm of Boyd, McDonough & Co., Lexi had become quite accustomed to a never ending trail of middle aged men sitting in the chair opposite, seeking consumer law advice to protect their companies (and, on most occasions, their big fat salaries). They rarely had time to chat to Lexi. She was, to them, just another resource to rely on in minimizing risk and increasing the all-important bottom line.

But James was different.

From the moment he stepped into her office, James seemed to exude a wanting to get to know Lexi for more than just her encyclopedic knowledge of the warranty provisions of the Australian Consumer Law. His eyes seemed to take her in not just as a lawyer, but as a woman, too. And the way his eyebrows raised, the corners of his mouth curled up just slightly, a sexy and desirous woman at that. He said nothing, but simply held her gaze.

So” began Lexi, attempting to divert from the obvious sexual tension in the air “You’re looking to try a new advertising medium, and you have some print ads you’d like me to review and sign off on?”

At that, James reached into the briefcase he had bought with him, showing a hint off flexed bicep as he did so. After retrieving the documents, he slid them across the desk to Lexi, allowing his finger to brush hers, all the while maintaining his gaze upon her.

Right” she continued, feeling her face become more crimson with each passing moment “No problems; would you like me to review these and give you a call next week to let you know my findings?”

No”.

For the first time, he spoke. A voice deep and sexy and certain; in that single word he had exuded more sheer masculinity that Lexi had encountered in a very, very long time. “Next week I will come back and see you, same time, and we will go through your findings then. Together”

And with that, he was off.

That evening, at home alone, Lexi could not get her mind off James. The memory of his voice, the smooth, dulcet tones and certainty of conviction, would not escape her.

Tossing and turning in bed, Lexi found herself unable to sleep. It was like that voice was haunting her, sending shivers down her spine each time it replayed itself, as if on auto-repeat, over and over in her mind.

So Lexi did the only thing she could think of to bring herself some peace, reaching into her bottom drawer for her trusty butterfly kiss. She used the toy under the covers, allowing herself to replay that voice again and again, imagining the wings of the butterfly were his masculine fingers, lightly flicking her pleasure button, while the main shaft his penis, curled ever so slightly to hit perfectly just the right spot inside her. She found herself building in momentum, as she enjoyed the duel pleasure function, all the while imagining his voice. That voice. Until, only moments after she started, she found her body jerking with pleasure, pulsating simultaneously with release and wanting.

And with that release, the replay of the voice softened, and Lexi finally felt she’d be able to get some sleep. “That was amazing” she thought to herself, curling into the comfort of her cushion “and I get to see him again next week”……………..

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[1] Huge props to my friend’s husband who suggested I take this route with my little blog. You know who you are, you saucy minx.

pic courtesy of blandcanyon

pic courtesy of blandcanyon

I finished reading Rosie Waterland’s book, The Anti-Cool Girl, the other day. Then I sat for about half an hour and pondered my own life.

If I was to summarise the book into one key theme, I would say it is about self-acceptance (with a secondary theme being poo, and another blow-jobs, but I don’t want to give away the good bits).

It’s a beautiful and moving read, the type of book that makes you laugh out loud at situations not normally associated with humor, while still giving a brutally honest account of her journey thus far. It also earned Rosie extra points on my ‘girl crush’ scoreboard, but that’s an entry for another day.

At the end of the book, the conclusion of the story arch if you will, Rosie tells of her final acceptance of self, having overcome adversity and tragedy, finally at ease with who she is (being, if you didn’t pick it up from the title, the anti-cool girl). She even lists the aspects of herself which, once a cause for doubt or motivation to change, she now embraces and celebrates.

And I think that’s pretty cool. Or anti-anti-cool, if you will.

So, inspired by Rosie’s own journey, I wrote my own list of the things about me that may not be run of the mill nor socially acceptable, but which I deep down know are not going to change, and which, moving forward, I’m going to try and celebrate, in the hope of inspiring you to create your own:

  1. I am smart and confident – sometimes that scares people, and particularly gentlemen I date, off. But fuck it. Smart girls are sexy girls.
  2. I genuinely don’t get societies hang-up about sexuality and sex toys – it’s always bugged me why this topic is so taboo, and even if it makes people blush or turn away, I’m always going to want to discuss precisely why that societal attitude should change.
  3. I am not as young as my tinder profile says I am. And that’s my business.
  4. I am a crazy dog lady – my pup, Pearl, is a little furry angel from heaven. I often find myself, after parking my car, running to my home in excitement to see her (and I am not a girl who does ‘running’). She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She came into my world at the precise moment I needed some comfort, just before the roughest few months I have ever had to endure. If I want to celebrate her awesomeness with yet another Facebook photo, or leave a social occasion to hang with her, I damn well will.
  5. I am a moody cow – I have never been able to ‘internalise’ my frustration/ anger/ sadness. Similarly, when I’m in a good mood, I’m quite possibly one of the funnest people you’ll meet. And that’s OK, the world would be boring if we were all cool calm and collected all of the time.
  6. I couldn’t get by without a little help from my friends – close friends are like wine in a ladies life; absolutely freakin’ essential. Like wine, they bring comfort, good times, and they make watching the Bachelor on a Wednesday night so much more enjoyable.
  7. I want to be the vibrator Queen of Australia – it’s a long term goal, but it’s there. I wrote about why I wanted to achieve that goal in my very first post ‘Vibrator is not a dirty word’ https://naughtymissjones.wordpress.com/2013/01/08/vibrator-is-not-a-dirty-word/ and that motivation hasn’t changed a bit.

The Bachelor is on tonight (home visits, woo!). And like with every Bachelor night, I will cap off my viewing with a read of Rosie’s recap. But as I do, as I read the of the hilarity that is Osher’s hair and Bachie’s much emotion (and NISSAN, can’t forget NISSAN), I will do so knowing the author of those funny words is a girl all of us could learn a thing or two from in our own journeys to self-acceptance. And knowing that, in itself, is pretty cool. Or anti-anti cool, if you will.

Naughty Miss Jones xx

failed

One of male friends recently provided his explanation as to why I get asked out more than I probably should “You’re cute, Missy” he stated “But in a way that’s, you know, very obtainable

I’m choosing to take that as a win.

Through my tinder adventures and beyond, I have had more matches than Elvis has had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The quality of those matches may leave a little to be desired at times (ooo, that’s a lovely neck tattoo!), but, hey, a match is a match.

So I like to think, through both my personal experiences and the swapping of stories with my fellow tinderellas, I know a thing or two about how to engage with a girl, and get a date on the internet. And, perhaps more importantly, how not to get a date on the internet. If you’re a world wide wieb Romeo, allow me to provide you some helpful tips:

  1. ‘Hi’ is, well, kind of dull as an opening[1]
  2. Flattery will get you… everywhere – telling a girl she had a nice smile, is gorgeous, is rocking her ensemble etc. will always raise a smile and, likely, get you a response.
  3. Don’t be too much of an eager beaver – declaring on the first message you think you could have ‘something special’, or asking the lady in question on a date without having received a single banter filled message is, well, kind of weird[2]
  4. Having a picture with hot chicks doesn’t make you look desirable, just kind of like a try hard[3]
  5. Do not, under any circumstances, ‘LOL’ – are we looking to date an American High School cheerleader? No. So why the fuck talk like one[4].
  6. Questions need answers = conversation = conversing– getting a message like ‘Hi. Today I played cricket’ leaves me baffled, but are very common. A simple statement does not a response require, nor is it particularly engaging, so, sir, why did you bother?[5]
  7. Be cheeky, not dirty – a little bit of innuendo never hurt anyone, but coming straight out with an explicit blow by blow description of what you would like to do to the fair maiden in question? Its kind of creepy.
  8. What’s with all the pictures of boys with the wax figure of Alf from Home and Away? This isn’t a game changer, I’m just genuinely wondering how Alf got his flaming face in so many pics?
  9. We don’t want to date a pretty scene. Or a motor cycle. So why are we looking at so damn many pictures of them?
  10. Be Friendly – It’s simple. And it works. Depict yourself as a happy person, be friendly and flirty in your messages.

Now, these tips may not apply to every girl, and we’re all looking for different things. Nontheless, I hope these tips help you along the way to the tinder romance you desire. In the interim, in the absence of love from the internet, why not try a bit of self-love? And on that note, I just happen to be having a mighty big sale (check it out at www.naughtymissjones.com.au – in the ‘sale’ category).

Happy internet dating vibers

Naughty Miss Jones xx

[1] Unless you’re really hot. Then, by all means, ‘Hi’ away

[2] Unless you’re really hot. Then, by all means, ask away.

[3] Unless you’re really hot. Then, by all means, have whoever you want in your pics.

[4] Unless you’re really hot. Then, by all means… actually, no. Don’t. Not even the super hotties can get away with LOL

[5] Unless you’re really hot. Then, by all means, state away.

shocked

I don’t think I look like your typical sex toy merchant. My style is neither glamorous nor sexy. I don’t carry dildos with me wherever I go. And in the words of Bridget Jones, I’m always going to be just that little bit fat.

My day job, too, is a wonderful disguise for my on-the-side antics. People just don’t expect a senior lawyer to flog lube when she goes home.

Naturally, I get some strange reactions when the truth is revealed. Such strangeness is often magnified in the boys I date, particularly those I haven’t met before in the real life world (read: Tinder). From my vast study of the subject of telling one’s first dates one sells sex toys, the reaction of these lads generally falls into one of two categories: the ‘shit, this girl must be the most sexually confident woman in the world, I can’t keep up, what do I do now?-ers’ (for ease of reference, we will call them exhibit A) and the ‘oh yeah, surely this chick must be easy?-ers’ (exhibit B).

The poor exhibit A men often look plain old frightened when they hear the news. Their eyes dart to the side, they mumble an ‘oh really’ under their breath, and they divert the discussion off sex toys and their sale as quick as you can say ‘seven pulsating functions’. All topics of sex and sexuality, and all cheeky sexual banter, is officially off the cards from that point.

But I can handle the exhibit A boys just fine. They may be intimidated, sure, but at least they keep the non-sex related conversation going.

The exhibit B boys, however, are a whole different ben-wa ball game. In contrast to their exhibit A counter-parts, now the conversation can be on nothing but sex, and any attempt by me to divert it elsewhere is shut down quicker than you can say ‘additional clit tingling feature’. They want to know everything, and while I’m happy to answer questions, all that talk of sexy related themes seems to bring with it the wandering hands and certain (wink wink) assumptions.

In reality, I’m not looking for either an exhibit A or an exhibit B bloke. Sex toys are a product, people buy them, and I sell them. Simples. My role in that transaction does not render me overly sexually confident nor easy (but I’ll take entrepreneurial, if adjectives are being thrown around).

Ideally, I would like a guy who thought it was cool, thought I was cool for selling them and running my own little business, and who was willing to treat me like a lady without expectation even though I sell sex toys. I’ll refer to them exhibit C boys, a rare find, sure, but I’m sure they’re out there.

Naughty Miss Jones xx

looks like my future was a little too saucy for the psychic to handle!

looks like my future was a little too saucy for the psychic to handle!

This morning, my nail lady, Tina*, tried to talk me out of getting my nails a lovely shade of midnight blue. “No, missy” she said “You look for man, you need red”. “Oh” I responded “Is that cos red is lucky?” (look at me all up on my Asian cultural references).“No” she responded “red sexy. Man not like you with strange blue nail”.

Right.

After much convincing, I’m now typing this entry with my nails sporting the blue I originally wanted. Not cos I don’t trust Tina, got girl my back, but because I am aware my soul mate is just around the corner, regardless of the nail color I choose. I know, cos last weekend, I went and visited a psychic.

[insert mysterious music and clouds of mist here]

It was one of my favorite ladies birthdays this weekend past, and as a special birthday treat, I arranged for us to go get a reading together.

From the outset, this psychic bloke had my dear friend’s life mapped out for her. Her Italian born, Viking-resembling, big familied, business owning bloke was just around the corner. She would have two, maybe three children, and settle in Hunters Hill (though she would have a second home in Italy, of course, cos no life is complete without a second home in Italy). She would stay in her current position for precisely 5 years, before moving to a new, more creative role in the CBD, likely fueled by the love and support of Mr. Italy big-bucks to try something new. Sounds pretty peachy to me.

Then it was my turn.

“I wouldn’t normally say this” he begun “but I’m feeling something sexual energy-wise with you. Your soulmate is coming, and there are 2 options, one from within the sex industry (but not your typical man from within the industry, he’s a good guy), or a very wealthy man, with a law degree, but who works in the finance industry” (oh, oh I pick Mr. Wealthy please!). “You will, together with your partner, open a sex-shop in Newtown. But you won’t find him on tinder, more likely off-line. Or if online, try e-harmony” (yeah, he said that. I’m presuming boy gets some kickbacks) “You will also keep going with your other career, law, and are very secure in that role.

Now, before you ask, yes, My Psychic did indeed google me before the session. I know cos I asked.

But I’m choosing not to focus on that. Kind of takes the fun out of it really.

Instead, I’m focusing on the excitement around the corner. A wealthy soulmate! A retail space for Naughty Miss Jones! No more tinder weirdos!

I’ll be sure to keep y’all updated on the adventures me and soulie (aww, see, I’m already giving him cutesy nicknames) are sure to have, and will certainly extend an invite to the launch of my shop.

And, for now, I’ll be keeping my nails blue.

Naughty Miss Jones xx

*not her real name, probably