everything was right with mp's world last night.
this morning, missa missa chickapea danced around the l word.
as i watched the sun rise through the brand-new, mp-shaped hole in the wall, i wondered why women have to fuck stuff up like this. mp is an elusive animal and best handled carefully. she can smell one drop of committment in a gallon of watery "i'm-okay-with-just-having-a-good-time."
as she got ready to bolt, clark kent and wonder girl came to the rescue. as they provdided the appropriate lines, mp started to think aout it. and she admitted to herself that the thoughts the chickapea expressed were things that she had acknowledged were a possibility on her end....
that was enough to send her running to the homo-exchange and sign up for a wednesday night with g.u. girl...
but she also realized that it will only go as fast as she lets it.
and, as the pimptress pointed out, there might be something really good there.
uh, besides the boobs.
