Cerise Everett Longwood, the lovely and rebellious daughter of the Count of (Something-or-Other-which-sounds-terribly-rich-and-important), has never lived life by the rules. Restricted by day by the iron bands of high society, by night she stretches her wings as (a thief/someone who avenges the helpless/an aspiring writer of romance novels/a journalist). But when a (terrible secret/horrible murder/something else mildly chilling) is discovered, she finds the only man who can help her is the man she hates most.
Viscount Feathersly von Rothampton ne Gornesssbaum (or something else complicated and equally offensive to language which is usually shortened to something more romantic that his friends call him, like "Heath"), is not a man to be challenged. Outwardly secure in his position and power, his years in (Her Majesty's service/the army/the navy/Secret Service/something else military and daring) have marked him in more ways than one.
When the delectable Cerise falls into his path, the Viscount's honor demands that he assist her, despite his rivalry and hatred for her brother. But great events are afoot , and Cerise is in no mere danger. And in the heat of the moment, passions arise..."
Coming soon to a bookstore near you!!! Unfortunately, "Scicurious" is a terrible romance pen-name...
But yes, they're all like that. She's lovely (she never ADMITS that she is, she always thinks she's TOTALLY ordinary, but she's of course long and lithe, or short and slim, or short and lushly curvaceous, etc). They never like each other at first. Then they kiss. Then they screw. Shenanigans ensue. It will always end with a marriage and the birth of at least one of their children into a happy, adorable, obscenely rich family.
If it’s not that bad you could try various different products on the market one of which I would recommend is Dermalogica‘s Skin Brightening System which some of my clients have used over the years and were happy with the results. You can buy their various skin brightening products individually if you don’t want to invest in the kit. The night bright would be the one I would most recommend. Anything rice based can also have a whitening effect on the skin (great for removing fake tan too!). Talk to a therapist at your local salon and ask what they would recommend, DO NOT buy everything they suggest – have a whitening facial using the products they recommend and ask for samples to do you a couple of days, that way you can be sure that the product is suited to your skin before investing in expensive ranges that you’ll end up leaving on the bathroom window sill!
Sure there is the occasional true sicko, but these people so rare that you chances of having one of them examine you is pretty minuscule. Doctor D has known quite a few doctors who were walking hormones and hit on everything of the opposite sex they ever met, and still these docs were nothing but professional and trustworthy when doing physical exams. A professional touching of the private parts is about as unromantic a situation as possible.
A girl's first bikini wax is much like her first kiss, in that (a) she always wants to tell the story of how it went down, and (b) no one else cares. But I'm going to tell you my bikini wax story anyway. It should be noted, as long as we're going to get intimate, that I am not really a terribly hairy lady to begin with. So the fact that I waited until I was 23 to even notice the existence of bikini waxes as a concept — let alone get one — speaks less to any prudishness on my part than it does to a simple lack of necessity. Plus I hadn't really dated anyone who did that gross thing where they say, "It would be cool if you wanted to go bare, you know; it could be fun for both of us." (Yay for dating guys who, on balance, managed to keep their considerable dickishness from spilling over into the pubic-grooming department!) But when I broke up with someone after several years together, one of my friends was like, "You should get a bikini wax. But make sure it's a Brazilian because otherwise why even bother." So I said, "Okay!" (because I was in one of those post-break-up phases where you say "okay!" to literally everything that is presented to you, no matter what), and I did.
At that point, the only person I knew who had ever talked to me about her Brazilian bikini wax was a friend from college who I ran into one day on the street when she was immediately post-wax. She described the experience as "not that bad," mostly because, and I'm paraphrasing here, "I had a glass of white wine first, and I hardly felt a thing." (This is a sentence that turns out to be astonishingly applicable to many things in life.) As a result of that, somehow I'd gotten it into my head that the pre-wax glass of white wine was a necessity, like you legally could not get a wax without it, which was going to be kind of a problem given that I had made a 3pm waxing appointment at a nail salon a few blocks from my office. The good news was that the walk from where I worked to the nail salon involved passing a liquor store, so when I ducked out for what my boss probably thought was an awkwardly late lunch, I went inside and bought a white wine juice box, which is a product I had not previously known existed. but in that moment felt like an actual gift from the hand of God.
But I was 23, and for me two years had not been nearly enough time for my underage terror at purchasing and consuming alcohol to subside, and I had absolutely no idea where I could go to drink my wine juice box, and I was freaking out a little while standing on the street. Here's what I did, and I highly recommend it if you find yourself in need of a place to discreetly consume alcoholic beverages during your workday: I went into a Benetton store, grabbed a random sweater off the rack, and requested a dressing room. I hung that sweater on the hook and did not even begin to try it on, but instead straight-up shotgunned the white wine juicebox (because there was no straw) and then walked out of the Benetton and down the block to my nail salon where I announced, with an extraordinary amount of false confidence (engendered by a white wine placebo effect, probably), that I AM HERE FOR A BIKINI WAX.
My best and only celebrity encounter was when I saw Lindsay Lohan in person about six years ago. She was in the Twin Cities filming “A Prairie Home Companion” (I’m sorry for that. It doesn’t make sense to non-Minnesotans, I know.) so my friends and I decided to go look for her. We literally strolled down to the Fitzgerald Theatre and right up to Lindsay’s trailer. She sat on a stoop, smoking with a friend. I saw her and started trembling. Like, uncontrollable shaking. I don’t even care that much about her, really? I don’t know. I was like, “Don’t look at her, you guys. OMG she’s so pretty. AHHH now I’m staring.”
I mean, sure, you could put me on a white towel in front of some suspicious-looking black plants and be like, “could you please just put your bikini strap over on the other side?” and I’d be like, “Um, both on one side? Like this?” And you’d be like, “Yeah, OK and also lean forward, but like, be hot.” And I’d be like, “This feels weird, like physics-wise I feel that my left boob could leave this swimming suit at any moment.” But it just wouldn’t be the same.
Do you think that men are unable to look at a woman only in the eyes and staring in the chest or bum?
Do you think women prefer to look in the man's eyes only,leaving at second place glances over his sensitive points?
If so, then it's time to learn the scientific truth:
The harsh reality is that women have much “bigger eyes" than men! Just the second are noticed!
The harsh reality is that women have much “bigger eyes" than men! Just the second are noticed!
My grandfather traveled to Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation in London in 1952 or 1953 on some Cunnard ship, Queen Mary or SS America, and Dali was on board. My grandfather spent time with him during the 4-5 day trip; family lore has my grandfather asking the Master, when first encountering him, if he was Dali and Dali responded that “no, I am a sign painter from Brooklyn”………I have no idea if that’s fiction or what but my grandfather had an extraordinary ability to connect so maybe it is true.
The nude is beautiful; surrealism leaves me cold, generally.
Best!
