Date: Thu, 24 Apr 2014 00:00:38 -0400 (EDT)
From: Roxanne144295@aol.com
Subject: My first flannel part 1

I live in Chicago, on the near north side and from  time to time frequent
the girls bars. I have made it point to avoid the dyke  bars, I am very, make
that very, very femme and like the same. I feel there is  nothing that
compares to a very feminine well dressed and well groomed woman,  who walks and
talks with confidence.
    I rarely if ever meet someone who meets my  standards at the bars, I
suppose I am always somewhat withdrawn and not quite  myself, knowingly I am
in a mating scene.That is not to say I never meet a   potential MS Right,
however so far none have crossed the finish line.
    We go home with mutual expectations and usually  have a few good nights
but perhaps I am too picky because it never works out. I  have a weakness
for a woman's scent, her soft neck and her lip kisses, but I  also have very
high standards, I have to have intelligence above all, sure  beauty is part
of the equation but intelligence trumps all.
    This particular Saturday night I was hosting my  friend Vicki, since
her partner was out of town on business. Susan knew she  could trust us to
have an evening together, not only because Vicki was not my  type but because
she knows my proclivities. Vicki is a tad butch, not over the  top but far
from femme.That said, we are so close and have so much fun together,
    Vicki showed up on time and I buzzed her in, she  carried an armload of
goodies as I met her at the top of the stairs.It seems she  has discovered
a new drink and was going to turn me on to the new concoction. I  inquired
as to what we were having and she refused to divulge the secrete
ingredients, banning me from the kitchen as she mixed up our drinks.
    When she appeared with what looked like red wine in  glasses with fruit
floating on the surface. I was a bit disappointed, I was  expecting more
than Sangria.
    Sangria? Giving her my best fake smile.
    Sangarita's she said, taste it you bitch before you  pass judgement on
me.
We both laughed, knowing she had called me on one of my worst traits.
    I took a sip and suddenly smiled, I had to admit  this was different
and extremely tastier.
She smiled with great satisfaction, then she warned me to take it slow as
this was a very strong  concoction.
    After two glasses and a lot of girl talk, I found  myself eyeing Vicki
with a whole new set of eyeballs. I suppose I had never  mentally undressed
her before, now I had to wonder what she looked like naked.  Even worse I
was wondering what the difference was between MN chosen prey and  her.
    I suppose deep inside, although I never consciously  thought about it,
I imagined butch women to be more aggressive, less feminine  and well rough
in the sack. I assumed that lack of feminine outside meant lack  of
femininity and sensitivity in the bedroom.
    Vicki was quite wasted as well and quite  frankly if we weren't such
great friends and Susan was not her partner the whole  night might have taken
on a whole new direction. We laughed an flirted and  eventually dodged the
bullet and she left around mid-night.