"Pass the Pussy Please"

Hey You,
Guess what? I am now distilling my adventures into a regular bi monthly column entitled Pass the Pussy Please for blackheartmagazine.com. Begin the begin ...

Pass the Pussy, Please: Pussy Galore
By Rachel O. Esplanade
The only reason I am queer is because I love to eat pussy. It is absolutely my most favourite thing to do in the whole wide world. So simple, my desire to explore the ruby fruit jungle drives my queerness and all the other sexual pleasures are icing. Lovely very good, tasty yummy, icing but the cake ah the cake!

But where does that leave me in Montreal? Where can I find the local pussy I like to please? Also, as much as I like to eat pussy I'm really looking for one to enjoy on a regular basis. Ya know, in one of those long term monogamy type things that I've heard so much about. Based on that and my age, I have set my search criteria to be "a single queer woman between the ages of 25 and 45 in the city of Montreal proper." According to my calculations, there are approximately thirty four thousand women who meet my criteria. That's a lot of women! Fortunately, I am always up for a challenge but where to begin?

Since August, and with the tenacity of the wooden spoons guy outside of Ogilvy's, I have been making a concerted effort to meet all thirty four thousand: I juggle several online dating profiles, am a regular at Kitty Cat Klub and Chouettes Coquette events, volunteered at image + nation, have been to every meow mix, most Faggity Ass Fridays and, when nothing else is on, am in the Village. Short of crashing vegan pot lucks posted on facebook, if I hear of a queer woman event, I'll be there. As a result, I have been on a handful of dates, had two decent shags but, sadly, no pangs of "Big L Love". Mind you, I am having a brilliant time enjoying my freedom and all the winks and flirts that accompany it.

Recently, I met a very sexy woman at the "Self Love Meow Mix", which was packed to the rafters with hot women. This lovely had eyes the colour of the Mediterranean sea, light green speckled with gold. A cute tweedy cap perched atop her onyx locks which tumbled in loose curls to her shoulders. The dark colour of her hair lay in sweet contrast to the paleness of her complexion, accenting high cheekbones, the cutest little nose and her full red lips. Beautiful. What a shame that after some light conversation, I invited her to an event the following Thursday.

"I can't go out during the week"

"That's too bad. Do you have to get up early for work?"

"Well, it's more that I, like, work with retards."

Inwardly cringing but secretly hoping she was referring to some office mates I asked, "Oh, can they tell if you have had a late night at the water cooler?"

"No, silly, I really work with retards. Once when I was hung over I lost one of them."

Hmmm… sleeping with someone capable of losing one of her intellectually challenged charges? I wasn't going there. I guess that makes it thirty four thousand minus one.

Enjoy!
Rachel (***)

PS by bi monthly I mean every other month, not every bisexual month I experience ... though that would be an interesting column in itself.