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He stole my panties then he stole my heart…

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You learn a lot about a person when you’re  in a car together for 3, ten hour stake outs.  For example I found out that Lambert is lactose intolerant, plays the trumpet, volunteers at a homeless shelter, taps his fingers incessantly, accidentally killed his horribly abusive step father on a hunting trip when he was 12, rides a unicycle, has five parrots and a third nipple.

I told him stuff too, like when I was 14 I ran away and lived in the woods for 3 weeks when my parents told me they were getting a divorce, I make amazing meatloaf, Jaws scared me out of the ocean forever, cupcakes make me horny, my favorite color is red and I never went to my High School Prom because I was dumped at the last minute.  Like most men, Lambert’s eyes glazed over whenever I talked about myself.  I didn’t think he retained a word I said but he proved me wrong.

At a PTA meeting last week Lambert, in vice principal mode, volunteered me to chaperone the Junior prom.  When my daughter found out she was mortified, but I promised to give her privacy and keep my distance.  So on the day of, when we went to the salon to get her hair and nails did, I had mine done as well.  I wore something nice and “mom-ish” then spent the night trying not to be too much of a buzz kill.   Lambert was busy but when we did see each other we exchanged sexy looks.  He even secretly grabbed my ass when we crossed paths near the refreshments table.

After the kids went off to their post-prom parties, a few of us stayed to clean.  I hadn’t seen Lambert in a while and assumed he left.  As I swept wet confetti off the floor I thought back on my missed prom night.  The douche I was supposed to go with dumped me just hours before when the head cheer ho asked him to go because she and her boyfriend had a fight.  To add to my teenage nightmare, she was crowned Prom Queen.

I guess I zoned out because I hadn’t noticed the other chaperones had gone.  I was alone, standing in the middle of the gym, broom in hand like Cinderella.  Suddenly the lights dimmed, a spotlight turned on, disco ball began to spin and music started.  “We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Segar.  From out of the darkness walked Lambert, dressed in a tux.  God damn he looked good.  I was stunned as he approached me, clear box in his hand, corsage inside.  Was I dreaming?

“Welcome to your prom Nicole”, he said, eyes smoldering.  “You look beautiful”.

I was shaking like a nervous teen as he pinned the corsage on my dress.

“You did this for me?”

Then he pulled something from his jacket pocket.  A rhinestone tiara.  He placed it on my head. “My Prom Queen.” It was too much.  I started to cry.  He pulled me close, we danced.

The next song was Styx, “Come Sail Away” and at the best, most rocking part, the ceiling opened and confetti and balloons spilled out.


This man not only listened to me but he remembered all the goofy details from my favorite flowers to my dream prom song list.  We danced for a couple more songs, but when Journey’s “Faithfully” started, something came over me.  He had made one of my dreams come true.  I had to have him.  So right there, in the middle of the gym in a pile of wet confetti with 80’s make out music in the background, we added porn to prom.  I’ll probably be pulling confetti out of my hoohaa for days but it was worth it.

I’m screwed.  I can’t stop thinking about him now.  I wonder if he knows what he did to me.  Am I falling in love with him?  How is this possible?  He’s demented.  He’s a panty thief!  We have another stake out tomorrow night and I already have butterflies I’m so excited to see him.  This is really bad but that was the best night of my life.


An Accessory for an Accessory

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Seems like only yesterday I complained about being a bored housewife.  Now, five months later, I’m an accessory to a crime.

As planned, I met Lambert Saturday night.  He wanted to go somewhere private so we met behind an abandoned building at the edge of town. After all the stress I’d been under, I was looking forward to a little demented fun.  Unfortunately fun was not what he had in mind.

We sat in his car.  Lambert wasn’t his usual mysterious, feisty self.  Instead he was high-strung and nervous.  Immediately he broke out the photo album.

“I have to show you something”.  He was excited, like he couldn’t wait to show me.

He opened to a photo of a man in his late 50’s, bald head and hairy chest, in a diaper with a pacifier in his mouth.  Ewww. I don’t get how this could possibly turn someone on.

“Does he look familiar to you?” Lambert asked.  “Focus on his face.”

Lambert covered the guy’s body with his hand.  Actually, he did look familiar. Holy shit…who the hell is that?  I knew him but just couldn’t place him.

Lambert couldn’t wait anymore, “It’s Principal Burke”.

Oh my God it was.  I was in total shock.  “Why are you showing me this?”

“That bastard Burke has done nothing but give me a hard time since I began teaching there.  I’ve put in fifteen years.  He was just a teacher when I started.”

Lambert was angry, this can’t be good.  “What are you gonna do?”

“I want him out, but not before he gives me a glowing recommendation for Vice Principal.”

“That’s blackmail”, I said.   No shit, Captain Obvious.  “I don’t want to be involved in this”.

“You’re already involved Nicole.  But don’t worry, he’ll do anything to keep this from coming out.  Just think of it as payment for getting you out of trouble that night.”

“It sounds like you’re blackmailing me”. I was pissed but also scared shitless.

“Do you really expect me to just sit on this information?  That sounds pretty hypocritical from someone who broke into her step sister’s house.”

He had a point.  Lately I’ve been the queen of revenge.  Dammit. “You’re sure he’ll comply?”

“Nicole, this would ruin him if it got out.” He was very convincing but then he took my hand and turned on the smolder. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.”

I kept  thinking, he knows that I know he stole all my underwear.  Are we never going to mention that?  Then, he kissed me.

He unbuttoned my blouse as he kissed my neck then lightly nibbled my ear and whispered, “Are you with me Nicole?”

I just have no willpower over this sexy, deviant, blackmailing underwear thief.  “Yes, Mister Lambert. I’m with you.”


Part 3 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation

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At first I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.  It was a nursery, sort of.  The furniture looked like regular furniture that someone had altered to look like baby furniture.  For a really big baby.

“Do you know what this is Nicole?”

“I’m not really sure.  She doesn’t have a baby.”

“This isn’t for a baby, it’s for adults.  It’s a fetish room.  Your step sister is into some really weird shit.”

I still didn’t understand.  I squeezed passed him to get a better look.  Everything was oversized.  Then I saw the huge diapers.  Oh…My…God.

Lambert picked up a large photo album, “My Precious Baby”.  We looked at each other.  I’m sure we were both thinking…don’t open it.  But we had to, out of morbid curiosity.

“Holy shit.”  Lambert slowly flipped through the pages of grown men in diapers, some drinking out of bottles and….ewwwwwwww…Shannon breastfeeding.  He dropped the book and left the room.

Seconds later he called to me from the other room, “Let’s get out of here Nicole, come on.”

I picked up the book and put it back where it was then headed out.  Suddenly something struck me.  I went back in the room and over to the book.  I had to check. I flipped through the pages of these men who, besides the diaper, looked like average guys.  There were at least thirty pages of them and then…there it was.  On the last page.  Eric.  In a diaper.

Lambert came back to the door.  “Nicole, let’s go.  Nicole?”

I couldn’t move.  Shock maybe.  Total shock.  How can this be happening? Who is this person I married?  I felt Lambert next to me, he was looking at the picture too.  “It’s Eric.  My husband”.

He gently took the book from me, put it back where it was and guided me out of the room.  “I don’t understand”, I said.  But I did understand.

Suddenly I got angry.  Furious.  Disgusted.  Humiliated.  You name it, I felt it.

When we got to the living room, I stopped.  I grabbed a vase and threw it across the room…FUCK YOU Eric!.  Then I picked up a Yankee Candle jar…Oh, Macintosh apple, my favorite.  FUCK YOU Shannon!…I threw that too.  Lambert was startled at first but then just let me go.  He stood by the door and watched.

She had a bunch of decorative plates  hanging on the wall, like Frisbees I threw every single one of them.  I smashed her two lamps then picked one up and used it like a bat.  I struck the flat screen TV, then the DVD player.  I smashed everything in sight then stood there and looked at it.  It needed one more thing.

I went back to the demented nursery, picked up the book and brought it back to the living room.  I opened it to Eric’s picture and propped it  in the middle of the mess.

“Are you sure you want to do that?  They’ll obviously know it was you.”

“I want them to know.  I’m ready to go now, Mr. Lambert.”

He took me by the hand and led me out.

When we got to our cars he asked, “Do you wanna go out for a drink or something?”  He was being very sweet actually.  I think he felt sorry for me.  Lambert has a gentle side, what do you know…

I looked at him, oh those smoldering eyes. “Meet me at my house in an hour.  The door will be unlocked.  I’ll be hiding.  Come find me.”

I got in my car and laughed.  Oh Eric.  I’m gonna screw Lambert in our house, in our bed.  You sick son of a bitch.  I always knew you were a big fucking baby. 

hit guy in dapers


Part 1 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation…

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With my kids at their Grandparent’s in Florida for spring break and my husband away on a supposed business trip, I spent Easter solo for the first time in my life.

Being alone, I felt a sense of peace come over me and soaked it in.   Lounging on my chaise, I sipped my coffee while listening to the Ambient channel on my XM Radio.   No moody, demanding teenagers working my nerves and no tense run ins with the husband.  It was bliss… until my female brain went to work.

I started thinking about my evil step sister, Shannon, who is now fooling around with my husband.  I decided to call the good step sister, to wish her a happy Easter and feel her out, wondering if she knew what her bitch sister was up to.  This was a bad idea.  I didn’t get the impression she knew about the affair but she informed me that Shannon had gone to New Orleans for Easter break.  It just so happens New Orleans was Eric’s business trip destination.  These two idiots are on vacation together.  I felt sick to my stomach.  So much for peace.

After two more cups of coffee I was well worked up.  Consumed with anger, I needed something, or someone to help me release it.  So, I sent Lambert a text, informing him I had the house all to myself this week.  A few hours passed with no reply.  Ready to jump out of my skin I decided to go out.  I just started driving in no specific direction and ended up at Shannon’s house.  This was my father’s house, he willed it to her (a story for another time). I spent weekends and holidays there from five to eighteen years old and…I still had a key.

I parked my car at the end of the long driveway and went around to the back door.  I started to get excited.  What was I going to do when I got in there?  Maybe bust a pipe and flood her out.  Or glue all her windows shut.  So many ideas were running through my head but it didn’t matter because my key didn’t work.  The bitch had changed the locks.  Now what?

As I stood on the back porch I thought back on how she used to torture me.  She really had my father snowed.  He never believed me when I told him the things she did, he thought I was jealous of her. But just like a man, he had it backward, she was jealous of me.  I was his biological daughter, his blood and that drove her crazy so she did everything she could to drive a wedge between us.  It worked.

Now she has her hooks in Eric.  I’m sure this makes her feel superior even though I don’t want him anymore.  I got myself so pissed off my ears were burning hot.  Then I remembered the laundry room window.  I had broken the lock when I was a teen so I could sneak back into the house if I missed curfew.  I doubt she ever knew it was broken since she’d never be able to slide her fat ass through it.

So I checked and glory be, it was still broken.  I put my handbag down, got on my knees and went in legs first.  It was a tighter squeeze than it used to be but I managed to slide half-way in and then…I got stuck.  Boobs.  Dammit.  I forgot about the boobs.  They’re much bigger now.

I struggled to pull myself out but my arms weren’t strong enough. On the other side my feet just kept sliding on the wall.  What a mess.

winnie the pooh

I tried not to panic but I seriously couldn’t move.  Just don’t panic.  Whatever you do, don’t panic.  Oh my God, I’m going to die like this!  How humiliating!  And the worst part is, the bitch will think she got the best of me! 

Then, in a true “saved by the bell” moment, my phone chimed.  I grabbed it out of my bag, it was a text from Lambert.  “Leave your front door unlocked, turn off the lights, remove all your clothes and hide.  I’ll be there in an hour.  Let me find you.”

Oh for Christ’s sake. I’m really over his weirdness but I need him to get me out of here.  I texted back.  “Mr. Lambert, I need your help.  I’m stuck in a window at 153 Stoc”.  The low battery signal started flashing.  I quickly hit send…the phone turned off.  Son of a bitch!


Stay tuned for Part 2 of: What I Did on My Spring Vacation

ROBBING A BANK: A win/win situation for me.

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The way I figure, if I robbed a bank one of two things would happen.  I’d either get away with it and have a bunch of money to start over or…I’d get locked up and finally have some peace and quiet (except for the occasional prison riot).

mon jail card

If I was locked up, I’d be away from the people in my life who cause me great stress like my husband in the dungeon and my two selfish and completely insane teenagers. I wouldn’t be tormented by my high-schoolish feelings of revenge against “the popular girls” (AKA football mom clique) and in a women’s prison I certainly wouldn’t be tempted by scoundrels. No scoundrels to coax me into doing things I’d later regret. Things that felt good at the time but made me feel worse about myself later.

My most recent encounter with the scoundrel Lambert is a perfect example. He sent me a text on Friday, not asking me but telling me to meet him at a diner a few towns over. He also said, again, to wear a skirt. I ignored this text for about three hours until I lost the fight with the very persuasive (and horny) bad Nicole, and agreed to meet him.

It was late at night and he was sitting at a booth all the way in a back corner, on the side facing the wall. As I approached the table, I thought about turning around but it was like a magnet was pulling me. A magnet aimed right at my cooch.

The second I sat, he gave me that look.  Oh those smoldering brown eyes. Any defense I had built up came tumbling down. I wasn’t seated for more than 10 seconds before the waitress came to the table. She looked only at Lambert.

“You ready to order hun?”

Instinctively I looked around, there was no menu on the table. Before I could point that out he was ordering.

“We’ll have two turkey clubs and two coffees”, he said, not consulting me, not even with his eyes.

“Sure thing”, she said with a sexy, almost knowing smile.

As she walked away I thought, This man is so pushy and rude, so why am I still sitting here?  Funny thing is, I probably would have ordered a turkey club anyway.  I don’t frequent diners often but when I do, that’s what I order.

“I like your skirt”, he said.

Finally, a compliment.  “Thanks.  Still a little cold for a short skirt though”, I said playfully.

He leaned over, looked under the table then glanced up at me.  “Take your panties off”.

I closed my legs and giggled nervously, “No way”.

He sat up and looked around the diner.  There weren’t many tables occupied and we were pretty far away from the other customers.  “No one will see you.  Take them off for me”.

I was frozen.  “Nicole”, he said in a coaxing way.  He smiled but it was like a, you’d better do what I say or you’re gonna be in big trouble kind of smile.

Oh fine.  I hiked up one side of my skirt, hooked my thumb in and slid them down.  Just as they got to my knees, the waitress walked up with our food.  I actually felt a breeze drift up my skirt.  My face flushed.

She put our plates down and looked at Lambert.  “Anything else”?

“No, we’re fine.  Thanks.”

He watched her ass as she walked away.   My panties are around my knees and this son of a bitch is looking a the waitress’ ass.  I really need to get out of here.

Annoyed, I reached down to pull them up.  “I’m not taking them off.  This is stupid”.

With that he lifted his foot, hooked them on my panties and pulled them all the way down, smiling the whole time.  I was stuck, his foot was holding them down and the only way I’d be able to move is if I gave in and slid them over my shoes.  No way.  We glared at each other a moment then he picked up his sandwich and took a bite.  I did the same.

I’m sure everything appeared normal as we ate, but under the table we were in a battle over my undies.  At first I was pissed but eventually it struck me funny and it turned into a bizarre game of tug of war until finally, I let him win.

He reached down, grabbed my panties and twirled them on his finger in victory.  Just then, the waitress stopped by.  I was mortified.  He had my panties in his hand.

“You guys need anything?”

“We’re fine, thanks”, he said.  Then like it was a napkin, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with my panties.  She smiled, again knowingly, then walked away.

I reached over and tried to grab them but he was too quick and shoved them into his jacket pocket.  Defeated, I took another bite of my club sandwich then suddenly, he disappeared under the table.  I  continued to eat, trying hard to appear normal while he forced my legs apart.  It was all I could do not to reenact the orgasm scene from “When Harry Met Sally.”

After about fifteen minutes he resurfaced.  We got our food to go and before we left I noticed he tipped the waitress twenty bucks.

Again, he said goodbye to me in the parking lot.  I felt “satisfied” this time, no Frosty required for the ride home, but I felt used.  How can someone make me feel so good and so bad at the same time?

Later, as I sat in bed alone, eating my club sandwich, I devised my plan to rob a bank.  Or maybe I’ll just go get a massage tomorrow.

The Sound of Music – XXX

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Saturday night I met Lambert at the 4th Avenue Cinema, a cute little theater that only plays old films.  As I walked toward it, freezing my ass off because he told me to wear a skirt, I see:  Now Showing – The Sound of Music.  Seriously?

As directed I purchased my ticket…I guess we’re going dutch…and entered the theater.  It was dark and Julie Andrews was already standing on a hill singing.  I heard  “pssssst”, turned and saw Lambert just where he said he’d be, seated in the back row.

I scooted through a row of empty seats, and noticed he had a full bucket of popcorn on his lap.  Oh my God.  He’s not gonna try the old hole in the bucket of popcorn trick, is he?  I plopped down next to him.

“You like The Sound of Music?”, he asked.  What? No, “Hi Nicole, you sure look nice in that skirt”? 

“I guess.  I haven’t seen it in forever though”.  I was too embarrassed to tell him I actually saw it a few years back with some girlfriends.  We went to a showing slash sing-a-long, and dressed in costume.  The menopausal von Trapp sisters.

“Want some popcorn”?  He asked.  My distrust was obviously transparent, because he lifted the bucket to show there would be nothing hiding at the bottom besides a few dead kernels.  I smiled and took a handful, looking at him as he watched the movie.

I sat there a while, periodically glancing at him, his eyes glued to the screen.  Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m just wondering, is this your favorite movie or something”?

His eyes never left the screen.  “Shhhhh.  You shouldn’t talk during a movie Nicole, it’s rude”.  He continued to shovel popcorn in his mouth.

What the hell?  There’s no one else in the theater.  Who the fuck is going to see the late night showing of The Sound of Music on a Saturday night anyway?   This is too weird, he’s too weird.  I grabbed my purse and stood up.  “I think I’m gonna go.  Thanks for the movie”.

As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hard.  “Nicole”, he put down the popcorn then slid his hand slowly up my inner thigh.  Up it went until….bingo!  He ran his finger over my panties.  Oh shit.

“Sit down”, he said as he moved the popcorn.

I sat, then he leaned over and kissed me.  His hand slid back up my inner thigh and this time…he went in.

making out at movies

We basically did everything but have sex back there, while the von Trapp children serenaded us, Nazis invaded and then finally everyone ended up on the hill.

When the movie ended, we giggled, fixed our clothes and kissed a little more.  I can honestly say that was the most fun I’ve ever had at the movies in my life.

Then he walked me to my car and said, “I’ll call you some time this week”.  Wait…that’s it?  Really?

He pecked me on the cheek, got in his car and drove off.  Just then, the theater lights went out.  I stood there in the dark, confused and unsatisfied.

So, on the way home I stopped at Wendy’s and got a large chocolate Frosty.  I held it between my legs while I drove and that helped a little.  But nothing, no song, no  radio station, would get those fucking von Trapp kids out of my head!  It was like my Disney “It’s  a Small World” nightmare all over again.

So long, farewell
Auf Weidersehen, goodbye

Call waiting…

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After years of marriage I forgot the first rule of dating…Don’t give it away on the first date!  The second rule of dating…Don’t give it away on the first date!

But I did.  And now I’m back in high school, waiting by the phone.  He said he’d call Thursday, it’s now Saturday.  Why would he call?  I gave him the prize and he didn’t even have to work for it.  Handed it right to him. Game over.

phone waiting

I need therapy.  I keep doing things that make me feel horrible about myself.  I’m spiraling downward and I can’t stop.  One of the things I feel horrible about is how I handled things with Ryan.  I was selfish and should have told him about his wife and Erich.  I came out looking really bad in that situation.  Then yesterday I felt even worse.  I was in my car reading while waiting for my son’s baseball practice to end (football is over, baseball now), Ryan’s son is also on the team.   I had seen him earlier but figured there was no way he’d talk to me so I just buried my nose in a book.  I was surprised when he tapped on my window.  I rolled it down, he asked how I was.

“I’m okay…you”?  I pasted on a phony smile.

“Alright, I guess.  How’s it going with you and Erich”?

I’m sure the “ugh” face I made was enough but I answered anyway.  “Not good.  Separate rooms.  Tension.  Just trying to hold it together for the kids.  How about you guys”?

“Trying to hold it together too.  Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened. You weren’t to blame.  It wasn’t your place to tell me. . .”

“No.  I should have told you.  I’m really sorry.  Really, really sorry.  I was being selfish”.  Whew…that felt good to get out!

“The whole thing was a mess.  I just wanted you to know I wasn’t mad at you or anything.  You were going through your own shit”.  He smiled, warm and genuine.  

He’s really nice.  God dammit…I’m really stupid. 

I guess he saw I was bummed, although I don’t think he realized why.  It wasn’t because of my marriage, it was him.  I really blew it.  He tried to lighten the mood.  “So, you look really pretty”. His tone was so soft and sweet, I wanted to cry.

Just as I was about to say something, my cell phone rang.  I glanced at the number…Lambert.  Guess the game is back on.  I tensed up, Ryan noticed.

“I’ll let you get that.  I just wanted to reach out, let you know how I felt.  Take care Nicole”.  Then he walked away.  Shit!

I answered the phone.  Too late.  Double shit!  Should I call him back?  Then, my text message chimed.

Meet me tonight, 10pm at Fourth Street Cinema.  I’ll be in theater 2, back row.  Wear a skirt.  Mr. Lambert

What the fuck?  Who the hell does he think he is?  He just assumes I have no plans and assumes I’ll follow his orders?  What an asshole.  No fricken way am I going.

I went back to reading my book.  I read the same paragraph ten times and still didn’t know what it was about.  Dammit!  I’m not going.  Of course the little devil on my shoulder was deciding which skirt I should wear.  She is very powerful.  She took control of my fingers and texted him back…

“See you at 10”.

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