Keeping It Real

Thursday evening, my friend Amesbootie leaned over to Namaste and whispered, "You know why I like Charming Fellow so much?...Because he lets Cookie be herself." This tidbit of a conversation occurred at the very moment I hopped onto the non-existent dance floor, and cut-a-rug with an intoxicated local and a pool cue. All the while, Charming Fellow just sipped his beer and smiled.

The thing is, I'm a flirt. I've been that way since I was six months old. I hug, I fondle, I cuddle, I kiss on the lips, I bat my eyelids, I smile, I dance on chairs, I squeeze tooshies, I make bedroom eyes, I talk dirty, and I offer gratuitous compliments as they're deserved. This past Friday night, when Charming Fellow escorted me and some friends to Spank for a Mink Event [VIP-style], I did all of the above.

Please note the subtle cop-a-feel.

Host with the most.

My flirty co-horts made the evening flirt-normously flirt-tastic.

Booth 22 style.

Sofa dance.

Lipple?

But at the end of it all, Charming Fellow understands that this whole flirtation gig is just my way of dousing the world with my affection, and that he is the only person I would consider going home to. A strong, confident, non-jealous man is such a turn on...MEOW!

So barfaliciously adorable.