And no, I’m not trying to be “ignant”.... 
Ok, so the fates are punishing me, ‘cause it looks like I won’t be here when the Best of La Belle Province (Ms. Jolie) comes back through town. And with all the yummy new pictures, I can’t stop thinking of her either. Very unfair. I decide I need an alternate “bon bon”. Sorry, Ms. Hennessey... wrong place at the wrong time.
So when the door opens, and I’m greeted by Ms. Keissy – a wee little thing with long, lighter hair… sweet yet firm lady curves… adorable face… and coy little smile – seriously, you can’t help but wonder WHAT are they putting in the water out the Montreal way. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine looking young lady is what I’m saying.
So we start with a little bit of small talk… true to form, I’m a little uncomfortable; she’s sweet and easy to talk to, but is trying to get a “read” on me (‘weird-odd’ vs. ‘scary-odd’)… and I just can’t help ask her about something:
Rabbit: “How do you say ‘you’?”
Ms. Keissy: “Errr… you?”
Rabbit: “No, silly… ‘you’.”
Ms. Keissy: “Me???”
Rabbit: “I mean your name. Is it ‘Keissy’ like ‘Keissy up to bat’?… Or is it ‘Keissy’ like… well, not to be rude... but like, ‘easy’ with a ‘K’, or…”
Ms. Keissy: “ …….. the first one.”
Rabbit: “Oh. Ok. I think that’s pretty. I think you’re pretty. ”
Somewhere she must have concluded that I’m only ‘weird-odd’, because next thing I know she decides that the pleasant chit-chat stuff had run its course, and she pulls me down and starts kissing me. And not the “obligatory” or “patronising” or “self-forced” kisses that are more common than not in the world of professional companionship (the kind that make you feel worse about seeing a lady than not kissing at all). I mean REALLY kissing me, like precious few can. Like… she wanted to.
Call me a sap, but I could have done just that for our whole visit.
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
Ms. Keissy had other plans soon enough, though. And other kinds of kisses. For both of us. And wouldn’t you know by “half-time”, I’m staring cross-eyed at the roof with the most adorable Quebequoise kitten nestled up next to me. It’s really nice.
Still, Ms. Keissy decides to go to work. And work she does. Work, work, work, work, work. So much work. So much fun. So… freakin’….
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
Everything has a cost, though (and I’m not referring to her “thank you request”… Ms. Keissy is very, very reasonable in that regard, and well worth it), and I suspect the workload and the “belligerence induced” overtime soured the poor young lady on taking nasty ol’ rabbits for clients. If that really is the case, it will definitely be my loss. Ms. Keissy is an outstanding playmate in every regard, and I like her very much.
Happy thumping, all!
Ok, so the fates are punishing me, ‘cause it looks like I won’t be here when the Best of La Belle Province (Ms. Jolie) comes back through town. And with all the yummy new pictures, I can’t stop thinking of her either. Very unfair.
I decide I need an alternate “bon bon”. Sorry, Ms. Hennessey... wrong place at the wrong time. So when the door opens, and I’m greeted by Ms. Keissy – a wee little thing with long, lighter hair… sweet yet firm lady curves… adorable face… and coy little smile – seriously, you can’t help but wonder WHAT are they putting in the water out the Montreal way. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine looking young lady is what I’m saying.
So we start with a little bit of small talk… true to form, I’m a little uncomfortable; she’s sweet and easy to talk to, but is trying to get a “read” on me (‘weird-odd’ vs. ‘scary-odd’)… and I just can’t help ask her about something:
Rabbit: “How do you say ‘you’?”
Ms. Keissy: “Errr… you?”
Rabbit: “No, silly… ‘you’.”
Ms. Keissy: “Me???”
Rabbit: “I mean your name. Is it ‘Keissy’ like ‘Keissy up to bat’?… Or is it ‘Keissy’ like… well, not to be rude... but like, ‘easy’ with a ‘K’, or…”
Ms. Keissy: “
…….. the first one.”Rabbit: “Oh. Ok. I think that’s pretty. I think you’re pretty.
” Somewhere she must have concluded that I’m only ‘weird-odd’, because next thing I know she decides that the pleasant chit-chat stuff had run its course, and she pulls me down and starts kissing me. And not the “obligatory” or “patronising” or “self-forced” kisses that are more common than not in the world of professional companionship (the kind that make you feel worse about seeing a lady than not kissing at all). I mean REALLY kissing me, like precious few can. Like… she wanted to.
Call me a sap, but I could have done just that for our whole visit.
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
Ms. Keissy had other plans soon enough, though. And other kinds of kisses. For both of us. And wouldn’t you know by “half-time”, I’m staring cross-eyed at the roof with the most adorable Quebequoise kitten nestled up next to me. It’s really nice.
Still, Ms. Keissy decides to go to work. And work she does. Work, work, work, work, work. So much work. So much fun. So… freakin’….
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
Everything has a cost, though (and I’m not referring to her “thank you request”… Ms. Keissy is very, very reasonable in that regard, and well worth it), and I suspect the workload and the “belligerence induced” overtime soured the poor young lady on taking nasty ol’ rabbits for clients.
If that really is the case, it will definitely be my loss. Ms. Keissy is an outstanding playmate in every regard, and I like her very much. Happy thumping, all!
