Why PVC?

As I stepped out of the shower, following a vigorous workout with Sebastian, I saw a message come in on my tablet. Pulling on a lovely pink robe, I took the tablet down to the living room, where Sebastian was sitting drinking an energy drink. As you probably know, Sebastian is my personal trainer.

“Oh, look,” I said. “ my friend’s looking for a cool black and white PVC sissy maids outfit.”

Sebastian looked at me, and said, “I’m never really got the whole PVC outfit thing.  It’s a bit unusual for me. I just can’t imagine a situation in which one would wear such a thing.”

“Well, I’m a bit unusual. It seems a lovely idea to me!” I said.

Now, we’ve had what can best be described as an interesting week. There’s been a few struggles and some  painful learning. One of the images we used some time ago came from a source that hadn’t cleared copyright, so we got a little hurt there, but I hope we’ve resolved that without anyone getting too upset. Should you be aware of any images used inappropriately be sure to let me know.

As I told Sebastian “This weeks been a challenge, but people seem to love the idea of a ‘Man Of The Year’, which is running on the website.”

“And who’s winning that?” asked Sebastian.

“Well, at present I think it’s Sarah Huckabee Sanders, actually. She’s beating off stiff competition from Ray Gillette and Bernard the photographer.” I replied, sounding a little confused.

“Ahhhh… Well, maybe I can imagine a situation one would wear a PVC costume. Beating off Ray Gillette and Bernard would be the perfect opportunity.”

“Sebastian,” I replid, “please don’t be so crass!”

On my website you’ll find a nice link to some PVC maids outfits. Perfect for Christmas, don’t you think?

Now, I wanted to give a special shout out to Joni, from Toronto, who is a member of My Little Black book.

She’s delighted to hear from other CDs to chat and connect with. But the main reason I am mentioning her is that she sent this lovely image following a makeup session with Amy. Joni’s picture is delightful and here’s a link to Amy – http://crossdresslasvegas.com/Amy/Amy/DearAmy.html – who is in Las Vegas and evidently does a great job in the make over she provides. I’m thrilled to mention her to you, because she’s clearly very helpful and does a great job.

This week I also had a little push – calm down Amber – into my German friends. We’re expanding and welcoming new members from Germany into My Little Black Book. That gave me the perfect excuse to use the music below. You can learn why I used it here!

Have a great week, and remember if you want to connect with Joni just join My Little Black Book if you haven’t done so already. It’s just $2.95 for CD membersand $4.95 for Admirers each month.

😊

Fiona

Just too good not to share.  I used this recently in a reach to my German members. Read about it here.
Have you voted in our  ‘Man Of The Year’ poll? Now might be a good time to.

Strip Twister? Huh?

 ‘Imagine,’ Julie said, ‘if our Little Black Book members could post a chat message with a pic of themselves right there.’

I should say that on Julie’s insistence we’ve been playing a very intricate game of Twister with Sylvester and Sebastian. Now, I must admit that while Sebastian is very flexible, Sylvester is about as loose limbed as a fridge. In fact, now that I think about it, I have compared Sylvester to a fridge on several occasions.

Julie, by the way has a very mischievous way of playing Twister. It’s quite simple. She calls it Strip Twister, and one can only touch the floor with one’s hands or feet. Any slip up results in the loss of an article of clothing. Now, imagine that image uploaded to My Little Black Book.

Max was so intrigued by the idea that he got to work on it and now we have exactly what Julie was looking for. You can now log in to My Little Black Bookand chat with others, and upload images of yourself in the middle of a Strip Twister game, or anything else you feel like.

Don’t worry, the images scroll off after a while. You might post what you’re wearing right now, or how you’re doing some eye makeup or even a pic of your cat in drag, if that’s your thing… (Ilena!).

If you’re not already a member of My Little Black Book and would like to join the fun, why not go and sign up tonight.  You never know what’s going to pop up next!

Now, Sylvester is trying to get his leg over Julie. I think I’d better intervene.

😊

Fiona

Chastity Devices – Breast Forms – Wigs – Corsets


Get ready to swallow!

Sebastian was almost gagging.

“That’s it,” I said. “Take it all in…”

“I can’t,” he stammered, resisting.

“You’re going to swallow, all of it,” I insisted. “Open wide.”

Let me explain, Sebastian has been suffering from a bit of a cold lately and is having trouble getting over it. I decided a nice Kale-Ginger smoothie would give him a little help.

Sebastian doesn’t like either kale or ginger. As he reluctantly gulped it down, I told him what a good boy he was.

“Shall I get you a towel?” I asked noticing a little of the creamy liquid on his chin.

As you know, I am very mindful of the health of my friends. However, that’s not the main reason I’m writing to you today. Today I wanted to draw your attention to something I found interesting and feel sure you’ll share my enthusiasm for.

When we dress, feminine or otherwise, we are saying a great deal about who we are. Our entire presentation to the world is reflected in our clothing. The way we offer ourselves to the world has a huge impact on how accepting the world is of us, as crossdressers or simply individuals. In the talk below Jen Rozenbaum explores some of these ideas, and talks about boudoir photography.

Some of her tips are very interesting, especially if you’re creating great CD pics either online or for My Little Black Book. One of her points is about how, as a photographer she finds ways to bring out the positive aspects of her subjects. There’s a lot to be said for the idea that whatever we choose to wear, we can bring out the very best side of ourselves by presenting ourselves in a positive and empowered way.

I would suggest we can take this a step further. For example, if you feel you’re a different person to the one you were three years ago, then why are you wearing the same clothes? Why are you not presenting yourself to your world (CD or otherwise) in a new more developed manner?

While I wouldn’t suggest we should trash all our clothes every year, there’s a lot to be said for the idea of giving serious consideration to the way we present ourselves as we grow and discover ourselves. Personally, I know I dress with more confidence today than when I first guiltily played with my cousin’s panties.

So, here’s a fun thing to do this weekend. Take a look at your wardrobe (femme or otherwise) and select a few things that no longer reflect who you are and toss them out. Refining your wardrobe is liberating and leaves space for some new expressions of who you are becoming.

😊

Fiona

Boudoir Photography and Being Shamelessly Feminine | Jen Rozenbaum |

Just imagine, a crossdressing ghost story for Halloween. Yes, it’s coming – in three parts. It will be published on http://FionaDobson.com on the evenings of 29, 30th, and 31st of October.

Halloween is a great time for crossdressers. The night when the dead walk the earth seems an odd thing to celebrate, but any excuse to get out in heels works for me! Enjoy the three part series and be sure to watch out for it at FionaDobson.Com.

Need costume supplies for Halloween? Try checking out my shopping list and looking at some of the great online deals there.

FD

Fire and Furry.

I’m emailing you having just returned from the heart unit, where I am happy to relate that Bernard is in the process of recovery from his rather unfortunate incident with a carrot.  This is much to the relief of Max, who for a moment thought he may have blood (or rather carrot juice) on his hands after shooting Bernard with the aid of Sebastian’s motorcycle. If this is all a bit confusing you may be able to catch up here.

I arrived home to find Sylvester sitting at my kitchen table looking more confused than a Trump supporter who had recently learned that he’d won a months free food at Hooters, only to discover that he had to complete a skill testing question asking him to calculate the area of a square measuring 2 inches by 2 inches, before being eligible to collect his prize. I asked Sylvester what could possibly be wrong.

“It’s this business with North Korea. My dad was out there years ago, and that didn’t go so well,” said Sylvester.

Now, in case you’ve been living under a rock – which might be the safest place to be under the circumstances – then you might be unaware that people are talking about the possibility of nuclear war. At times like this one is forced to ask the big questions. ‘What’s it all for?’, and ‘Isn’t there hope for humanity?’, and ‘What does one really wear for Armageddon?’.

As I looked down at my troubled friend, I was forced to conclude that one should always look on the bright side, and dress up for the occasion. Seeing Sylvester’s legs, also brought something else to mind, and consider that this is a man who looks like a gorilla and a fridge got together and created a baby.
I am of course talking about the need to deal with body hair when one crossdresses. The need to look one’s best supersedes all other considerations as the nuclear clock ticks toward midnight. Sylvester’s legs are very hairy, and if one is to meet one’s end looking fabulous either waxing it off, or at least disguising the body hair is a great place to start.

Not all of my members are able to shave their legs. For those who discretely dress without the knowledge of their partners, suddenly appearing without leg hair may be something of a give away. One member did successfully claim that their new swimming regime required them to remove as much body hair as possible, but this isn’t going to fly for some members.

In the quest to disguise body hair the fishnet pantyhose are your friends. Better still, try a fishnet body stocking. No one should be without one, in my opinion. If you’re unable to find one locally, you can follow this link and order one on my website.

So, the question remains, faced with the unpleasant eventuality of nuclear annihilation, what would your outfit be? Personally, I think nice summer dress and some heels, pretty pink bra and panties. Feel free to let me know.

Now don’t forget, you can now join My Little Black Book for just $2.95 a month by using this link – https://gumroad.com/l/mMgcZ.  Be sure to let me know once you’ve paid and I’ll get you set up.

😊

Fiona

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

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 weekBernard, 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

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.

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?
Are you reading the exciting adventures of Andy in “Clothes Maketh The Man”?

Manipulated and taken advantage of by the evil Devina, Andy finds himself compromised into dressing. You’ll never believe what follows!
If you haven’t yet dived into the extraordinary serialised feminization adventure you can find it here:

Read the story – Clothes Maketh The Man https://fionadobson.com/clothes-maketh-the-man-part-1/

Not yet signed up for the Premium Program? Take your time, but when you’re ready jump in and join the fun.  You can sign up for full membership – US$ 35 a year – here: https://fionadobson.com/premium-program/

One simply has to service every member that comes my way.

Tonight I would like to introduce you to a wonderful hypnosis video I have just finished working on.  Now, I know what you are going to say. Just like Sebastian, my personal trainer – who incidentally has been hard at it these last few days working up a sweat – you’re probably thinking, “Fiona, you give and give! You are so good to your members!”

I feel it my destiny to work as hard as I can to satisfy every member that comes my way. Now, I know you think that’s hard to swallow, but I always do my best to allow my members needs to penetrate me to the very core! Even when I am spread very thin, I do my best to come up with something interesting for you.

Crossdressing Hypnosis - You Want To Be A Girl.
Crossdressing Hypnosis – You Want To Be A Girl.
So, have a listen and enjoy this one on me. And speaking of enjoying it on me, I am in Puerto Vallarta, in Mexico for a week. I’ve been bronzing myself on the beach for a couple of days, and there’s a young man heading my  way this very minute wanting to give me a massage. He tells me he has a friend, Juan, who can lend a hand, too! I have a sneaking suspicion these two are not members of the American Massage Therapists Association.

I suspect their massage would end in an abrupt and explosive way. That reminds me, I must rub a little more of this sun lotion on my breasts – they’re glowing with health already. I wouldn’t want to burn myself.

If you are a regular user of my website you’ll be aware that I have changed the look in the last few days. There’s a reason for this. I found to my surprise I was hacked. It was just the website, and they messed up a few menus and posts, but nothing more. All my member details are kept behind a very secure AES 256 bit encryption system. Anyone wanting to break into that should set aside approximately 40 billion years to run through the possible combinations. Given that the universe is only 15 billion years old, this seems to be good enough.

The result is that the website is now stronger, tighter, more highly lubricated and will even still respect you in the morning following use. We’ve still got one or two things to work on in there, but you’ll find most of the content is still there. Take a look at http://FionaDobson.com – If you’re as excited as Max was about it, you’ll need a towel.

Have a wonderful week.

If you are not a full member think about signing up – http://genr8tor.com/membership/ . When I see payment go through I will start you on your path. I work though everyone’s messages a couple of times a day and work to get you moving quickly. I know you’ll love it. Email me to let me know you’ve upgraded.

🙂

Fiona.

A premature election?

All I can possibly say is, “What a week!”

Now, as you likely know, I am the very soul of discretion, and would neither say anything to embarrass anyone, nor anything to get myself sued. With this in mind you may need to read between the lines in today’s email. For my many friends outside of North America, you may have to work a little on this week’s missive.

tumblr_o633arjprr1uxh3kao1_500

I found myself hurrying through Las Vegas this week, on agency business. I got off the plane and was in a series of meetings before finally checking into my hotel late on Wednesday evening. The last time I had been in Las Vegas was with Sebastian, my personal trainer, who was here applying for a job. He was in the midst of one of his bursts of Christian spirituality, and had applied to a famous TV Evangelist for a job working as a missionary. The TV preacher was subsequently defrocked, I learned, for being rather too friendly with some of the younger members of his flock. Such behaviour! I wonder if that is ‘defrocked’ or disbaaahed’? Either way, Sebastian did not get the missionary position.

I found my hotel to be full of activity and secret service people, as apparently there was a very important guest staying. At first I thought all the attention was for me, however I soon found out otherwise.
After checking in, I walked to the elevator, stepped inside just as a large entourage arrived and one particular member pushed forward through the closing doors of the elevator. Taken by surprise I found myself alone in the elevator with a large man, who was instantly recognizable by his shock of orange hair.

Now, as I say, I am the soul of discretion, so I will refrain from naming names. The man was, in his way, also applying for a rather important job.  He was very distraught and kept muttering something about a ‘nasty woman’.

To my surprise the elevator stopped after a moment, nowhere near my floor, and the lights dimmed. Being caught in a halted elevator is a very disturbing experience. The man looked at me, then seemed to realise his colleagues were not with us, and gradually we realised we were stuck in the elevator, and may be here some time. It was a very difficult situation.

The next moment I was shocked to find himm lunging at me and thrusting himself forwards. As you know, I am not like other women and have a little extra to surprise any man. As he tried to grab at me, I deftly stepped aside and giggled.

“Really,” I gasped, and tried to stall him, but he was having none of it. He made another lurch and his octopus like hands were suddenly all over me! All right, a very small octopus.

Thinking, I might as well do something about the situation, I pushed him away, smiled and said that I thought I might know what he needed.

“Relax,” I said. “Think of me as someone who can sort out your election…”

I dropped to my knees and I will not go into what followed. Needless to say, I think I can say his pole was looking healthier than it has in a long time. By the time the elevator returned to service, he was looking a lot more relaxed.

As we arrived on the 16th floor, the doors opened and several worried looking secret service personnel hurried into the elevator. My friend then disappeared, leaving me feeling like I needed to go and brush my teeth, in the knowledge I had done my bit to serve my country.

However, that’s not the main reason I am writing to you. As we edge closer to the election I feel it part of my role to urge you to go out, familiarise yourself with the issues and then get out and vote. As for me, I think I’ve had enough of his nonsense rammed down my throat for one election.

🙂

Fiona