The Diary of a London former Erotic Review Editrice and Daily Mail You Magazine Sex Columnist. (Sorry, but I get more hits if I put in words like Sex, Erotic and Anal Penetration etc.
vendredi 19 aout
Heavy night out with the girls. Back to work with a teensy-weensy bit of a headache. Strange dreams last night - alcohol induced, no doubt. In one, I was dressed in a red bodicey thing and long floaty skirt with my suede boot heel plunging into the spine of a man dressed as Paul McCartney dressed as a pig in the Magical Mystery Tour. Weird. Then it morphed into another one where I was sitting on a bed wearing just a bra and an art deco necklace of some sort, with my feet hanging over a block of type-face - as if I was a photograph accompanying a newspaper article or somesuch silliness. Whatever next?
So, to work. Leaf through several towers worth of pornographic manuscripts. "He sat on my chest... blah blah blah ... fucked my mouth...tumpty tumpty tum.... took me behind... ho hum (must remember to defrost those onion bhajis when I get in...) above and below .... et cetera et cetera until I came harder, faster and longer than ever before, yawn, yawn yawn...the end. Several hours go by like this.
4pm: Dennis comes in and we have yet another row. He tells me we are relocating from Soho to Chobham relocating to Surrey. I say, "Surrey? Not bloody likely" and tell him where to stick his bloody job.
Evening: Eat in. Onion bhajis and 2 litres of Chardy and a quick J Arthur. Bliss.
// posted by pelling @ 9:39 AM
For more information about Rowan Pelling and how to forge a successful career as a writer of Erotica, email her at: rowan@you.co.uk
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