Category: Max

Posted on

Bernard goes beyond.

Hi,

Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the latest events around Bernard being shot in the chest with a carrot – if not you can catch up here – which has left us all very worried about his health.

To get you up to date, it wasn’t until several hours after he’d been carted off in the ambulance, following Max getting so upset about what he described as Sebastian and I doing yoga ‘doggy style’in my garden, that I managed to get through to the emergency department. The head nurse left me on hold as she went to see what had happened to poor Bernard.

Now, as you likely know, Bernard recently had a heart transplant following a Tazering incident, and we were all most concerned that he may have been severely hurt by the flying vegetable. Additionally, Max was getting increasingly worried about the idea that he may have committed a crime.

I had the phone in my kitchen on speaker, as Max and I waited to be transferred. I remember the moment in some detail, as I had just finished freshening my nail polish and I couldn’t very well hold the cell. Really, though, that scarlet color is simply to die for!

I asked Max to paint my toe nails, as I waited on hold. I was standing there on one leg, my other foot on a bar stool, my tight leggings showing the well defined shape of my legs, as Max painted my toes. You know, you might think me a little cruel, but I do get a little thrill from the fact that his eyes would drift up my leg from time to time. Torturing the puppies is a secret pleasure of mine!

“Is that Fiona Dobson,” came the nurses voice.

“It most certainly is,” I replied.

“Yes, Ms. Dobson. Bernard has you listed as his primary contact.”

“Of course he does!” I said, attempting to keep the frustration from my voice.

“Well, Ms. Dobson, I’m sorry to tell you this
”

At that moment Max’s hand shakily managed to paint one of my toes.

“Just a moment,” I said, then turning to Max, “for goodness sake, Max. Please be more attentive!”

I turned back to the phone, “Go on, dear,” I said.

“Yes,” she continued, “I’m sorry but I have to tell you
”

“Max!” I shouted, as he slipped once more. “Do be careful!”

The nurse continued, “I’m sorry but Bernard is no longer with us.”

There was a pause, and Max fell pale. I took the phone off speaker mode, and said to the nurse, “But 
 How?”

“He’s no longer in the emergency department,” continued the nurse. “He’s been transferred to the Intensive Care Unit, he’s scheduled for heart surgery later today.”

Now, I am sure you know I am not an unkind individual. However, I do confess I thought briefly about leaving Max in his growing sense of panic. Mentally, he was already gathering a few things and ready to head to Mexico.

I arranged to visit in the morning, and hung up the phone.

“Don’t worry, Max. Bernard’s having surgery. I’m sure he’s got a good chance of a full recovery.  It was a nasty accident, that’s all. We can go to see him in the morning.”

With that, Sebastian entered the kitchen, doing his very best to be helpful. “I feel I should come, too. After all, it was my exhaust pipe from which he was hurt. I feel a kind of karmic obligation.”

“How thoughtful you are,” I said. “Max, my nails aren’t going to paint themselves!”

“Perhaps I could take him one of my nice recordings of relaxing sounds. That’s sure to make him feel better. Fiona, what’s the most relaxing sound you can think of. Whale song? The sound of the wind through a forest?”

“I think the sound of the door closing as Amanda leaves my house following one of her visits. That always leaves me feeling better,” I said.

“I think whale song might be more relaxing,” murmured Sebastian.

With that we did our best to put our fears for Bernard to rest. Max continued to do my toe nails and we resolved to visit the hospital the following morning.

And so it was that we decided to visit the following morning, Max and Sebastian bringing both guilt and karmic balance, and I some perfectly painted nails and a rather smart pleated skirt.

I shall let you know how things went next week.

Fiona

Posted on

Max, we appreciate your service.

Before I go any further I would like to say that like my valued members I stand with all our brave people serving in the military regardless of color, gender or race. I strongly believe that anyone who has ever been exposed to the realities of conflict knows very well, we have other more important things to get on with, rather than focusing on distractions that do nothing but further the questionable agenda of one sad old man. Our servicemen protect our rights and freedoms – which is kind of the point, isn’t it?

I’ve received several emails from members of the services who are members of FionaDobson.com. All I can do is reassure them that their service is appreciated and that this will pass. Calmer heads will prevail.

Now, let me see if I can give you the short strokes to get you caught up with the exciting happenings here in Montreal. You may remember last week, Bernard, my photographer, had been shot in the chest with a nefarious carrot. Unknown to me at the time Max had pushed the offending vegetable  up Sebastians exhaust pipe after becoming agitated while watching Sebastian and I doing yoga.

As the ambulance raced off Max sidled up to me, looking the picture of guilt ridden youth, and said “Fiona, there’s something you should know.”

I bent  down and picked up the carrot and frowned.

“What on earth is a carrot doing here?” I said, as the ambulance siren faded in the distance.

“Actually, I might know something about that…” said Max, where upon he told me the whole grissly story.

“But what on earth possessed you to put it there?” I asked.

“It was seeing the two of you in the garden. Seeing you do yoga, doggy style!”

“I think you mean downward dog. Well, these leggings don’t leave much to the imagination,” I mused.

At this point Sebastian, who had been inspecting his motorcycle for damage, wandered over.

“Pretty bad luck, that. You don’t often hear of someone being carroted to death.”

Several years ago a young man I was acquainted with had a nasty incident with a squash (that’s a marrow if you’re in the UK), but I thought it better not to mention it.

“You don’t think he’ll die, do you?” Asked Max.

“He was doing a pretty good impression of it, when he was choking here in the driveway, three minutes ago,” said Sebastian. “I always told him he should eat more vegetables.”

“He’s only just recovered from a heart transplant. I think the sooner we dispose of the evidence the better. Max, why don’t you get rid of that carrot and if anybody asks, the bike just backfired,  ok?”

“Why?” Said Max, looking genuinely niaive.

“Because, Max, if the wrong people ask questions, someone might get the idea you accidently murdered poor Bernard.”

“Urgh! Murdered?” Gasped Max.

Sebastian interjected at this point, “I’m not sure you can ‘accidentally’ murder someone.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Stammered Max.

“Of course you didn’t. But anyone dumb enough to believe that Bernard was shot in the chest with a carrot is dumb enough to believe it was murder. It’s better all round just to say there was a bang and Bernard collapsed.”

I handed Max the carrot. “I suggest you feed the evidence to your rabbit.”

😊

Fiona
Posted on

Max shoved his carrot up Sebastian’s exhaust pipe!

What an extraordinary week it has been, with the most exciting things happening about the place.  But before I get into that, I will first answer a couple of quick questions from my valued members.

Yes, Ellie in Texas, when you have a costume party to celebrate your ten years NRA membership a piñata is a very suitable idea for a game, though we do not generally feel that putting ammunition in it as prizes is a very good idea. Perhaps crystal wine goblets or a decanter would be better.

Olive, in Halifax in Yorkshire, we find the best remedy is to plunge your plums in boiling water. Both Julie and I enjoy making jam, too! What a small world it is.

As we revel in a beautiful summer here in North America it’s definitely time to delve into your wardrobe and find a mini skirt. Whether it’s to do a private set of selfies, or get out in the park and brave going out in public, the summer gives us all a great excuse to expose our legs to sunshine and get a beautiful tan. You’ll find one of my very popular self hypnosis recordings that so many of you love right HERE.  Of course, in the Premium Program there’s many to help you along. If you’re already a member I hope you’re getting the most out of these. If you’re thinking about joining the Premium Program enjoy the self hypnosis filehere and see how you feel. It’s likely to harden your resolve to getting into a lovely skirt.

And speaking of hardening my resolve, Sebastian my personal trainer was over at my place just yesterday. He came over to give me a yoga class, and afterwards he gave me a very enjoyable massage. I was out in the sun, in the back garden, with Sebastian rubbing some oils into my aching muscles, when I noticed Max, my neighbours 20 year old son, watching us from his bedroom window, which overlooks my garden.

I should point out that Max has shown growing curiosity about me in recent months.  He’s not quite sure what to make of me, I think. Either way, seeing Sebastian rubbing my thighs so intimately seemed most disturbing for him. Whilst Sebastian was hard at work, as it were, Max was suffering.

Unknown to me at the time, Max was indeed so agitated that he went downstairs to his mother’s kitchen, took a large carrot, and then went out into my driveway, and pushed it right up Sebastian’s exhaust pipe! Sebastian, I should say, rides a little Honda scooter. It’s very cute. Not as big as Sylvester’schopper, of course,  but that’s another story.

Nothing good ever comes from jamming vegetables places they shouldn’t be. Believe me, I should know, my cousin works in an emergency room at the hospital. Anyway, after inserting his nefarious carrot, Max returned to his bedroom.

Sebastian was just finishing me off, (phrasing), and our yoga session was coming to a very happy ending.  It was not a minute too soon, as Bernard, my photographer, was due at my place to discuss a shoot we have next week for one of the advertising agency clients. I like to work from home, and Bernard often drops by.

I was just seeing Sebastian off, when Bernard arrived. Sebastian straddled his scooter and hit the starter, just as Bernard was walking up my driveway. There was a phut, phut, BANG!

Next thing I knew Bernard was lying on the ground gasping and clutching his heart. You may remember he had a heart transplant just about a year ago, after an unfortunate Tazering incident at O’Hare.

At first I thought the shock of the backfire had given him a heart attack. Then I saw the carrot, fallen to the ground, beside Bernard, who was by now convulsing and looking decidedly peeky.

“Hold on, Bernard,” I said as calmly as I could. “I’ll call an ambulance!”

He gurgled as first Sebastian and then Max, appearing from next door ran to him to help.

As I rushed inside Sebastian was telling Bernard that he wished he’d brought his homeopathic first aid kit. This didn’t seem to comfort Bernard, who was gurgling and coughing up blood.

I called the ambulance from the phone I’d left in my kitchen, and then hurried back to the increasingly pale form of Bernard lying in the driveway. He was reaching out in front of him, clutching at the air.

“It’s OK,” I said as calmly as I could. “The ambulance is coming.”

“I can see a light,” said Bernard, his eyes glazed over.

“Go toward the light,” said Sebastian. “Go toward the light!”

“Are you sure?” I said. “I thought you were supposed to go away from the light.”

“They’re calling me,” babbled Bernard, still clutching his chest, but fading from pale to a blue color. With that he seemed to go limp and give a final sigh.

A moment later the ambulance pulled into my driveway. The ambulance service here really is very good, and they have such very nice uniforms.

They loaded Bernard into the ambulance. Max was flapping around like an old woman, fawning over Bernard, and looking terribly distraught. As the ambulance pulled away and headed toward the hospital, I thought he was going to run and get his bicycle and follow it. Even then, I realised something was amiss.

As the ambulance siren faded Max turned to me and said, “Fiona, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Now, I’m going to tell you exactly what happened next in my next newsletter, because it really was so extraordinary. Let’s just say that the truth really does set you free, but at what price?

I hope you’re having a better weekend than we are!

😊

Fiona
THE MIXTURES : "THE PUSHBIKE SONG" (1970)
Sebastian’s Health Tip For The Week: There’s no better way to get out and about and keep in shape than on a bike.
Posted on

We’re firming up our members.

First of all, I feel I should address a matter of concern to many of my members. Angela in Arkansas asks, ‘Is it possible that White House spokesperson Sean Spicer and Sarah Huckabee Sanders are the same person? I have never seen them appear on camera together.’

I am so glad you asked me that. Naturally I am a keen commentator on political matters – my views being held in very high regard in some circles. I have several sources close to this matter and let’s just say that you’ll be seeing a lot less of ‘Sean’ in the coming months. I protect the confidentiality of my members very diligently as you know, so I am precluded from saying more. Suffice to say that Sean may be accepting himself as he is, and creating himself as he wishes. I can neither confirm or deny whether he is a member of my programs.

This weekend I have organised a barbeque for my friends. Sadly, my wife is travelling, leaving me to entertain myself. As I slipped into a new bikini and tiny pink skirt today, I found myself considering how very lucky I am.

I have such an eccclectic group of friends. Sylvester with his unusual tattoos and enormous chopper. Bernard, my photographer always wanting to expose himself. Sebastian, my personal trainer, who incidentally has just taken up pole vault. I very unusual choice of sport.

And of course, who could forget Max and Ali – still rummaging about in the arboretum looking for his hoe. This weekend I am also playing host to Katia Thornwood and Julie, who’s been hard at work (literally) stimulating new male members.

Perhaps I should explain that. We had a special promotion last week, for father’s day. This resulted in some wonderful new men joining my Little Black Book as admirers. I am thrilled to see the list of members growing and firming up all the time.

I said to Julie just the other day, “Julie, you need to take the members in hand, firm them up and make them grow!” She’s been breathlessly applying herself.

As my friends started to arrive for the barbecue and Sylvester busied himself at the grill, I joined the boys in conversation.

“But, Sebastian, darling! Why pole vaulting. It seems so… I don’t know, suggestive.”

“Not at all!” He insisted, turning his sausage on the grill. “Personally, I think it shows great self coonfidencel”

“Well, if you say so,” I said. “Mind you, it’s all a little dangerous, if you ask me. Plunging your great pole in a slot and getting up like that. It reeks of over compensation!”

“Its all about keeping it stiff,” said Sylvester, ever helpfull

Sebastian glanced at him, doubtfully.

“We’ve got pills for that,” chimed in Ali, from where he was showing Max the difference between a Chrysanthemum and Chlamydia.

Ali has been doing rather well with his English classes. One would never guess he arrived from Syria just six months ago.

 

“Sebastian ,” he called over toward the grill. “You’re obviously overcompensating, my young friend. I have some friends who can help you with that.”

I sometimes wonder what they teach him at that English class. Nonetheless, his integration seems to be coming along nicely.

I’m watching as Max tries to engage Katia in polite conversation. Now that really is the lamb attempting to lie down with the lion. I think I should go and interpose myself between them before Max ends up being served up on a skewer.

For those of you who don’t know Katia, she is a somewhat stern woman. Statuesque and beautiful, but very commanding. Her wonderful travelogue is being published on my website at http://FionaDobson.com in episodes – look for The Travelogue Of Katia Thornwood. You’ll be hearing more from her. Suffice to say that her holiday entertainments went far beyond looking at temples in Cambodia.

I hope you have a lively weekend and enjoy the summer weather. By the way, as I mentioned, we’ve had an influx of male  members (phrasing) in My Little Black Book. Now’s a great time to join, if you’re not already a member.

We have a major expansion of our website underway. My objective is that there should be something new almost daily for you to check into and occupy yourself with. Check it out and come back whenever you feel a little femme. You’ll love what I’m doing!

😊

Fiona
Imagine if some of your graduating class could see you dressed. What might they think?
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Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!
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Posted on

Urine a pile of trouble, Fiona.

“Urine a pile of trouble, Fiona…”

Hi,

I feel I have no alternative but to come out and say it, Yes, I did stay at The Ritz Carlton in Moscow in 2013. It’s true. However, there are limits to the kind of depravity I am prepared to indulge in. I should come clean and clear the air.

Allow me to explain a little, and I should point out that Max, my next door neighbors 20 year old son came into my kitchen this morning as I was slipping on a gingham skirt and smoothing down my black top. As he rushed in he almost caught me by surprise.

“Fiona,” he babbled. “What’s a golden shower?”

I fixed him with a long look and realised he really wasn’t joking.

“Well, Max. When two people love each other very much
” I realised this was not going to be easy. “You see
 It’s something two people who love each other very much can share.”

“Oh, what you mean like sex in the shower.”

“Well, not really,” I replied.

“Not if you have gold taps or a golden shower head?”

“Not exactly.”

I think I’m straying from my point.  Ah, yes. While it’s true that I have stayed at The Ritz Carlton in Moscow, and I have in the past been linked in some capacities to certain persons who will be inaugurated in the next few days, I would like to strenuously deny any suggestion that I have ever indulged in certain acts in the privacy of a hotel room in Moscow. There are limits to my depravity.

While I could succumb to the questionable pleasures of a golden shower, there is absolutely no conceivable way in which I would be sink to such depths of debauchery as to voluntarily spend time alone with the individual in question. As he has so eloquently put it himself, “I am a germophobe.”

Should some video emerge which shows me in a compromising position, obviously it’s been faked! Honest… Believe me!

🙂

Fiona
Here’s a great exercise for anyone wishing to feel a little more feminine. Have a listen and be sure to comment. Don’t forget – you can always find Playtime With Fiona here: https://fionadobson.com/tag/playtime-with-fiona/
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Posted on

Sylvester and Max are jacking off in my garden!

Sylvester and Max are jacking off in my garden!

Hi,

+++ A quick explanatory note: Members who sign up for the Free Program, and Premium Program Members, get my messages the moment they are written. They are posted as blog comments about a week later, so belated Merry Christmas. Have a great New Year! +++

My goodness, if you could see what’s going on outside my window. I can hardly believe is! I’m standing here in my Christmas lingerie, and my heels, and quite shocked at what I can see going on out there!

Ali, my gardner has just told me, “It’s ok, Fiona. It’s just Sylvester and Max jacking off in the flower beds.”

Now, I know you can imagine me standing here in my flowing red silk robe, mouth open in surprise. I am staring out at the snowy Montreal scene, and everybody seems to be having a wonderful time! Oh, perhaps you should even be here!

Let me explain. I’m watching Sylvester’s muscle bound arm pumping up and down and Max, my next door neighbours 20 year old son laughing – I think he’s licking his fingers – yes, he’s spilled some Bailey’s Irish Cream on his hand, or at least I think that’s what it is. And Ali is watching, engrossed in the unfolding scene.

They’re laughing and very jolly, Sylvester’s face red with exertion, and he has a look of deep concentration. Apparently, Ali’s Smart Car slid off the drive in the snow as he pulled into the icy driveway. It slid into the flower bed, and onto a rock in the rockery. Max and Sylvester were already at my place enjoying a Christmas eve drink, and now the three of them are working away to lift the little vehicle off the rock and manhandle it back onto the drive. What Christmas excitement!

I should hurry along, Amanda, the queen of tweed will be here soon, and Bernard is coming over. My wife, sadly is travelling. She’s a slave to her job! In the meantime, we are a fun gang, all hoping that Christmas will go with a bang!

I hope yours does, too! Have a wonderful holiday and remember, be careful if you are driving in the snow. Otherwise you too might find yourself licking Irish cream from your fingers after jacking off in someone’s garden!

Merry Christmas,

🙂

Fiona