#Bill Neiman
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Bill Blass, Neiman Marcus ad, 1996.
Ph. Lillian Bassman
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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY
based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … February 15
1748 – The English philosopher, jurist, economist, and political scientist Jeremy Bentham (d.1832) argued for a tolerant attitude toward homosexuality in a series of papers first published in full in 1985.
He was the most notable law reformer the English-speaking world has ever produced; in this role, his influence extended not only to Britain and the United States but also to France, Spain, and Latin America. Several of the emerging republics of South and Central America consulted him in drawing up their constitutions and law codes. In the Hispanic world, he was hailed as "el legislador del mundo."
Among his all-but -illegible unpublished papers were hundreds of pages, written at intervals over half a century, which make a contribution to what we would today call "gay studies." Bentham did not dare to publish any of them during his lifetime. Though a fragment of twenty-two pages appeared in print in 1931, no comprehensive account of the scope and significance of this impressive body of materials was published until 1985.
Bentham's primary interest in homosexuality arose in connection with law reform. In his day, men convicted under the English "buggery" statute were regularly hanged, a punishment public opinion enthusiastically applauded in England long after executions had ceased in the rest of Europe.
Bentham's task as reformer was made difficult not just by the force of English prejudice, but also by the absolute taboo on public discussion of homosexuality. In law books and in parliamentary debate, homosexual behavior was referred to stereotypically by the Latin formula, "peccatum illud horribile, inter Christianos non nominandum"—"that horrible crime not to be named among Christians." Bentham candidly admits in his notes the extreme fear he felt at the idea of making public his liberal opinions on the subject.
Bentham regarded prejudice against homosexuals simply as an irrational hatred and antipathy. It is one of the distinctions of his later writings (from 1814 on) that he identifies what we now call homophobia and directs his efforts to analyzing it.
He had of course no word that is exactly equivalent to the modern term homosexual. He often employs "paederast," sometimes in its original sense of a lover of boys, but often also to mean an adult male who is sexually involved with another man, as in modern French usage; in this latter sense, it approximates closely to "homosexual."
1923 – Adolfo Faustino Sardiña (d.2021), professionally known as Adolfo, was a Cuban-born American fashion designer who started out as a milliner in the 1950s. While chief designer for the wholesale milliners Emme, he won the Coty Award and the Neiman Marcus Fashion Award. In 1963 he set up his own salon in New York, firstly as a milliner, and then focusing on clothing. He retired from fashion design in 1993.
Adolfo Sardiña was born in Cárdenas, Cuba. His mother was Irish; his father Spanish. He attended the St Ignacio de Loyola Jesuit School in Havana and served in the Cuban Army. In 1948 Adolfo immigrated to New York.
As his mother had died in childbirth, Adolfo was brought up by an aunt who enjoyed wearing French haute couture, and encouraged her nephew to pursue fashion design. With his aunt's help, Adolfo joined Cristóbal Balenciaga as an apprentice milliner. He worked at Balenciaga from 1950–52.
In 1953 Adolfo joined the New York-based wholesale millinery company Emme as their chief designer. In the summer of 1957, to further his skills, he served an unpaid apprenticeship with Coco Chanel's New York hat salon. Adolfo would later admit that he "never enjoyed making hats."
With financial help from Bill Blass, Adolfo opened his first salon in New York in 1963, where he met many of the customers who would become his patrons when he gave up millinery to focus on clothing. He had met the Duchess of Windsor by 1965, through whom he met regular customers Betsy Bloomingdale, Babe Paley and Nancy Reagan. After Mainbocher retired, one of his highest-profile clients, C. Z. Guest, came to Adolfo to make her clothes instead. Adolfo's clothes were designed to complement his hats, which the designer saw as an optional accessory rather than a wardrobe essential. During the 1980s, his creations were worn in the hit TV series "Miami Vice", the fashion-defining show for the decade.
In 1993, at the age of 60, (based on a disputed birth year of 1933) Adolfo decided to retire from fashion design and rely on the income from his licensing agreements with various manufacturers.
His partner, Edward C. Perry, died in 1993. Adolfo died on November 27, 2021, at the age of 98.
1965 – On February 15, 1965, the Maple Leaf Flag, our national flag, was raised for the first time on Parliament Hill. Canada was just two years away from centennial celebrations when the maple leaf flag was made official by Royal Proclamation. In 1996, February 15 was declared National Flag of Canada Day and has been observed every year since.
February 15, 2015, marks the 50th anniversary of the National Flag of Canada. This special Flag Day is the perfect opportunity to learn more about how our flag was created and what it means to us.
After the First World War and again after the Second World War, the Government of Canada discussed the importance of our country having its own flag. Attempts to adopt a specific design repeatedly failed as consensus could not be reached.
In 1964, the Government made the creation of a distinctive Canadian flag a priority as the 1967 centennial celebration of Confederation was approaching. When Parliament could not reach agreement on the design, the task of finding a national flag was given to an all-party Parliamentary committee.
It was the single leaf, red and white design that the Committee recommended to Parliament. The motion was passed to adopt this design as the National Flag of Canada with a vote of 163 to 78 on December 15, 1964.
The winning flag was selected for the following reasons:
The simplicity of the design that made it easily recognizable.
Its use of Canada’s official national colours.
The maple leaf had become a symbol of Canadian pride and national identity.
Canadian troops as well as Canadian athletes had already used the maple leaf as an emblem on their uniforms when representing Canada abroad.
1968 – Richard Blanco is an American poet, public speaker, author and civil engineer. He is the fifth poet to read at a United States presidential inauguration, having read for Barack Obama's second inauguration. He is the first immigrant, the first Latino, the first openly gay person and the youngest person to be the U.S. inaugural poet.
Blanco, born in Madrid on February 15, 1968, immigrated as an infant with his Cuban exile family to Miami, and was raised and educated there. He earned a B.S. from Florida International University in Civil Engineering in 1991 and his Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing in 1997, where he studied with Campbell McGrath.
Since 1999, he has traveled and lived in Guatemala and Brazil. He taught at Georgetown University, American University, Central Connecticut State University, and Writer's Center.
He explored his Cuban heritage in his early works and his role as a gay man in Cuban-American culture in Looking for the Gulf Motel (2012). He explained: "It's trying to understand how I fit between negotiating the world, between being mainstream gay and being Cuban gay." According to Time magazine, he "views the more conservative, hard-line exile cohort of his parents' generation ... with a skeptical eye."
His work has appeared in The Nation, Ploughshares, Indiana Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, TriQuarterly Review, New England Review, and Americas Review.On January 8, 2013, he was named the inaugural poet for Barack Obama's second inauguration, the fifth person to play that role. He was the first immigrant, first Latino, and first gay person to be the inaugural poet. He was also the youngest. He was asked to compose three poems from which inauguration officials selected the one he would read. After reading "One Today," he said to his mother: "Well, Mom, I think we're finally American." The poem he presented, "One Today", was called "a humble, modest poem, one presented to a national audience as a gift of comradeship, and in the context of political, pop, and media culture, a quiet assertion that poetry deserves its place in our thoughts on this one day, and every day."
He and his partner split their time between Bethel, Maine and Boston, MA. In the poem "Queer Theory, According to My Grandmother," he described how his grandmother warned him as a young boy: "For God's sake, never pee sitting down ... /I've seen you" and "Don't stare at The Six-Million-Dollar Man./I've seen you." and "Never dance alone in your room."
1989 – A Los Angeles jury awards Rock Hudson's ex-lover, Marc Christian $21.75 million in damages for the emotional distress he claims to have suffered upon learning that Hudson had AIDS. The award is later reduced to $5.5 million.
1999 – Australian diplomat Stephen Brady and his partner Peter Stephens were the world’s first openly gay ambassadorial couple. Accompanied by Stephens, Brady presented his credentials as Australian Ambassador to Denmark, to Queen Margrethe II on February 15,1999.
Today's Gay Wisdom:
Susan B. Anthony
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We assert the province of government to be to secure the people in the enjoyment of their unalienable rights. We throw to the winds the old dogma that governments can give rights. Susan B. Anthony
Cautious, careful people, always casting about to preserve their reputation and social standing, never can bring about a reform. Those who are really in earnest must be willing to be anything or nothing in the world's estimation. - Susan B. Anthony, "On the Campaign for Divorce Law Reform" (1860)
The one distinct feature of our Association has been the right of the individual opinion for every member. We have been beset at every step with the cry that somebody was injuring the cause by the expression of some sentiments that differed with those held by the majority of mankind. The religious persecution of the ages has been done under what was claimed to be the command of God. I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do to their fellows, because it always coincides with their own desires. - Susan B. Anthony
Woman must not depend upon the protection of man, but must be taught to protect herself. - Susan B. Anthony, Speech in San Francisco (July 1871)
The only chance women have for justice in this country is to violate the law, as I have done, and as I shall continue to do. - Susan B. Anthony
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Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies 1938 Episode 13: Now That Summer is Gone
Written by Fred Neiman
Directed by Frank Tashlin
Animated by Robert McKimson
Voice characterizations by Mel Blanc, Billy Bletcher, Bill Days & Paul Taylor Choristers
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And the most important part of that idea I laid out in the last post is that at some point in the middle of it Bill gets to have a Lisa Rowe/Cassie Howard/Erika Kohut/Sam Cahill/Andrew Neiman moment. He gets to regress and repulse and shirk all pretenses of acceptability without immediately getting shoved back into his place. “I am fucking crazy.” Slay king
#violence is dehumanizing and undeserving of romanticization (←swallowing back the bloodthirst of neglect)#bill calhoun#caesar’s legion#legionposting
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Republican Debates
I was taping Club Random last night when the debate was on, but I watched it later, and here are my running thoughts about the #GOPDebate: the striking writers should be worried about AI, because ChatGPT could write the SNL sketch version of this in 2 seconds… Who is that stiff on the end? And Asa Hutchinson?? Yes, that's what we want, the one old white guy in America that looks older than Biden… Vivek cannot stop smiling, and is it my TV, or are his teeth blindingly white?
[[MORE]]
Is that the way to let us know he's the young one?… I hadn't really seen DeSantis speak before, and wow, he is every bit as awful as everyone says - terrible voice, robotic and canned, creepy straight-ahead stare - yikes!…who in real life ever says "thank you for the question"?: 'I'm going out, can I grab anything for you?' 'Thank you for the question: a pack of Luckys'… I need blueblocker glasses for this guy's teeth…the way they all think anyone cares about their cherrypicked brags:
'I'm the only one who lowered taxes with a Democratic senate in a southeastern state' Shut the fuck up…who is this freak Doug Burgum?? He looks like a salesman at a high-end department store. I think he sold me a tuxedo at Neiman Marcus… Thank you, Karen; I'll be sure to tell the manager…Jesus, Pence's hair is whiter than Vivek's teeth!…climate change is a hoax?? Oh Vivek, we all wanna be president but come on man…" We have to tell India and China to stop polluting."
Yeah, nobody ever thought of that…'I had trouble having both my children' TMI!…oh yeah, I think we all know Penny - Around the World Penny, yup"…no, not the Constitution-in-your-pocket thing!…wouldn't it be great if President Burgum foiled an assassination attempt when the bullet hit his pocket Constitution?…THIRTY no-abortion bills you passed, how many ways are there to say 'don't kill it?'…' abortion on demand,' like there's a Drive-Thru out here in Cali: "You want fries with your abortion?…" We need a president from a new generation." - Yes, but who? Who do you have in mind? Are you thinking of anyone in particular? "When a farmer gets sick…" WHAT? What year is this debate taking place? Jesus, he can borrow my cow…Asa is talking about stopping Smash-and-Grabs in the inner city?? "As president I'll stop it!" How? You're gonna go undercover with Richard Greico?…
Christie is brave to call out Trump, but good luck prying this crowd away from him, he is Taylor Swift to these people…I swear they all could switch each other's canned lines and no one would notice…also I don't think anyone would notice or care if Brett Baeir and DeSantis switched bodies, they all look completely interchangeable…" We need someone who fought in the military." But who?? Who do you have in mind, anyone in particular??…
I was wrong, and President Burgum looks like an undertaker… Pence and Vivek are wearing the exact same tie…"I chose the constitution" BOO!!!, oh Republicans, you are scary…I stand by what I told Vivek on Club Random last week: "I find you both disarming and Alarming."…you gotta love how these snakes pretend they don't know how to pronounce Vivek's name. Just in case anyone forgot he's the, um, "foreign-sounding" one - Et Tu Nikki Haley?? Wow, really Nikki, YOU don't know either?…
Vivek wins the battle of 'I'll say the most red meat, fuck the future, get applause and clean up the repercussions later' tactic that works best at Republican debates… this Indian-American on Indian-American violence must end!… What does President Burgum's wife tell him after this is over: 'You won! It wasn't even close'… can we please vote this guy off the island? There is less dignity on this stage than with the most embarrassing first-rounder on American Idol, Sanjaya is Abe Lincoln… I like drugs, but OK, I guess that's a bad one…you guys can call Putin a thug and tell us how he rapes women all night, this is a Republican debate, know your audience: 'Ukraine is far away, we hate Mexicans!'…are we really that convinced that the strands of hair that Asa is pulling from one side of his head to the other side is covering the top?…"I alone got the funding for…" - You did? Awesome! Done! I was gonna vote for Richard Greico's kick-ass partner, but…
President Burgum, if we're just gonna cremate her, why do we need such an expensive coffin?… What is that, wool? It's August, but OK, I get it. They crank the AC in these places… "We don't need a president who's too old or who's too young." Who then?? Who could it be that you mean who's the right age?… "We led the nation in computer science education" - you did?! Well, why didn't you say so at the beginning before Asa joined 21 Jump Street? That's a great accomplishment, maybe President Burgum will make you Secretary of something… I love how in the closing statements, they ordered it from the least likely on up: President Burgum, you're the first, then let's hear from Asa, the other guy with a 0.0% chance… "We need a conservative who has shown he can win in a blue state" - But who? Who do we have like that here today??… "God said to America, I'm not done with you" - really, God says that to people: "I'm done with you? What a little bitch… "I was born in 1985", old WhiteHead next to me has ties older than that, and blah blah 1776, which I think is the year the dude on the end was born… we're so fucked, and Trump wasn't even there.
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Tastes Like Sugar (ch. 8)
Summary: India Mae, or Indi, is a music major, struggling to pay bills, tuition, work, and make good grades. Emily Prentiss is a BAU profiler, as well as a DC socialite thanks to her huge family fortune. The two enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement: Emily will pay for Indi's school if Indi accompanies Emily to her social functions for a few months, posing as her girlfriend. As weeks go by, the lines between their arrangement and their true feelings start to blur. But money can't buy love, right?
Pairing: India Mae Banks x Emily Prentiss; OC x Emily Prentiss
Warnings: eventual smut; sugar baby relationships; age gap (16 years - but all over 18)
Word Count: 4k
Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters
Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @5raysofsunshine 🌮; @reidselle 🦭; @milfprotector 🐝💚; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @scargarcia-magshotchner 💜; @sadgirlml 🌻💌; @hotchs-bitch ; @multiverse-mxdness ; @spencersendgame
Chapter 8 - A Work of Art
I woke up with the sun shining in my eyes. While I normally wasn't a morning person, today held a certain air of excitement. I was here, in Emily's home. I was really doing this. I looked around my new room to take it all in when I noticed a huge bouquet of flowers on my nightstand, a note propped up against the vase.
I smiled softly at the size and colors. They were so vibrant; it was absolutely stunning. Emily sure was making this transition easy. I reached for the note and unfolded it to reveal Emily's smushed, messy-but-somehow-elegant, looping scrawl.
"Dearest India,
I hope you slept well. I can't express to you how excited I am that you're finally here. I can't wait to see what these four months will hold. See you soon.
Yours,
Emily"
I didn't realize it could get better than waking up to a sweet text message every morning, but having a handwritten note was really special. I read over the "dearest India" and the word "yours" about a hundred times. I pressed her letter to my chest and smiled like a sap. I couldn't wait to see what these four months would hold either.
Eager to see Emily and get our day started, I threw my hair up in a messy bun and slipped on one of my sundresses. It was a little chilly for a dress, but I assumed Emily was taking me to some high-end stores and I didn't want to feel underdressed. Even though I had given her a hard time about all the things she bought from Sephora, I used the face cream, and it was the best product I had ever used. I would die before I told Emily that though because I knew she would smirk at me, all too smug to be right.
As soon as I walked in the kitchen, I swore my heart stopped beating. Emily was sitting at the kitchen island reading the paper, coffee in hand, with reading glasses perched on her nose. The sun streamed through the kitchen windows and made her normally raven-black hair a glowing, beautiful russet. She looked unbelievably sexy – I couldn't stop staring. Why was something as simple as glasses so attractive?
She finally looked up, smiled, and said, "Good morning, Indi. Sleep well?"
"Yes," I lied. It took me a long time to fall asleep, but she didn't need to know that. It was so quiet out here. The lack of normal city sounds unnerved me. "Thank you for the flowers; they're beautiful."
I almost audibly objected when she took her glasses off to look at me properly. "You certainly are welcome. When would you like to head out today?"
"I require caffeine and then we can go." She chuckled and nodded her head towards the coffee maker. I didn't need to be told twice. I filled a mug 3/4 of the way and rummaged in her fridge for some milk.
"It's in the side of the door, Indi," she told me, amusement lacing her voice.
"Thank you!" I sat down near her at the island. "So what's the plan for today? Where are you taking me?"
"I figured we'd start at Nordstrom. If you don't find anything there, we can go to Saks or Neiman Marcus. And depending on how quickly you shop and what you like, we can buy multiple dresses today, so we don't have to shop for every event."
"I like the way you think, Ms. Prentiss." I quickly finished my coffee and hopped up. I rinsed my cup out, put it in the dishwasher, and turned towards Emily. "I'm ready!"
______________________________
It turns out, I was not ready. Emily didn't seem like the type to love shopping, but I had clearly underestimated her. The woman was a shopping machine. She loaded us both down with so many dresses for me to try on. The woman would give Penelope a run for her money.
"Emily!" I complained, coming out of the dressing room in what felt like the same silk dress I had tried on thirty times before. "You already have six in the approved pile. Can't we just call it a day?"
"We can if you add that one to the pile of dresses to buy." She quirked an eyebrow at me. I nodded reluctantly, ready for the hours of torture to be over.
But Emily's hours of torture weren't over with dresses. We had to choose necklaces and earrings, handbags and clutches, and then we looked at shoes endlessly. I thought I would lose my mind. Emily insisted on buying several pairs of high heels I was certain were going to kill me. I vowed to myself that when Emily was away on a case, I would exclusively walk around the house in heels to practice walking in them. When Emily finally – blissfully – declared us ready to pay, we walked towards the check-out counter, passing by the perfume counter.
My eyes lingered on the perfume I had been dying to buy for two years now, but could never afford. It was $120 for the small bottle. It smelled so good, so sexy. I tried not to be obvious – Emily was already spending what I calculated to be about $6,000. On me. It was enough to make my head spin.
"Sweetheart?" she asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"If you want something, you only have to ask," she reminded.
"I don't. Let's go," I said pushing on her arm towards the check-out.
She tugged on my arm to drag me back to the perfumes. "Which one is it, angel?"
I bit my lip. Was this coercing Emily into buying me more stuff? I felt guilty, but I wanted it so badly. "Uh," I looked towards the display, "It's this one," I said picking it up. "But I want you to like it too. I don't want it if you hate it."
She stepped closer to me, placing one hand on the counter behind me. I was caged between her and the counter, but it didn't bother me somehow. In fact, it felt nice to be this close to her. "Let me smell it then." I held the bottle up to her nose and she inhaled deeply. Her eyes darkened and her lids drooped. "Yes," she said a bit breathlessly, taking a step even closer – shrinking the space between us even further. "I think we should buy that."
"Can I help you?" a saleswoman interrupted. Emily immediately took two sizable steps backwards. I missed the warmth from her body.
"Yes," Emily answered. "Can we get this in a 3-ounce bottle?"
"It comes in 1.7, 3.4, or 5 ounces."
"The 3.4, then. Thank you. And can we pay for it at the other counter? We have several things to purchase." The woman nodded and disappeared behind the counter.
"Thank you Emily, really." She squeezed my shoulder. Her touch had me longing for earlier's closeness. The magic of her touch was undeniable. I needed more.
______________________________
I stared at the stranger looking back at me in the mirror. She was elegant, sophisticated. She belonged on Emily's arm. Her long, false lashes fluttered seductively. Her smokey makeup made her look mysterious. Her dress draped over her curves deliciously. If I weren't looking in the mirror, watching her copy my movements, I wouldn't believe it were me. I had never felt as beautiful as I did tonight. For the first time, I truly believed I was worthy to be seen with Emily.
I clumsily clomped down the stairs in my might-kill-me-before-the-night-is-over heels and called out, "Em?"
I heard a gasp from across the living room. "My god, Indi," she whispered. "You look stunning. Absolutely breathtaking." I felt insecure but somehow warm under her gaze.
"Thank you," I said shyly. "You look beautiful too." It sounded contrived, but I meant it. No one looked sexier in a suit than Emily did. After several more seconds of staring, she grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the garage.
"Let's get a move on, or we're going to be late."
"Sorry," I whispered. "It took me longer to do my makeup than expected." I remembered the multiple gluing disasters I had with my eye lashes. And then applying and immediately wiping off eye liner on my left eye because I couldn't get the wings even. It was enough to make me almost scream several times. Penelope always made it look so easy. Before I came downstairs, I had convinced myself it wasn't worth it to do this all again, but seeing Emily's reaction changed that. There wasn't anything in this world I wouldn't do to hear Emily's breathless gasp at seeing me walk down the stairs.
She paused her walking and spun me to face her. Her hand cupped my cheek and I melted. "It will be worth it, even if we're late. You really do look lovely." My cheek blazed underneath her hand. I was hopeful she couldn't feel the new heat from my embarrassment, but I thought it unlikely.
I cast my eyes down in embarrassment – her eyes were so sincere, so hypnotizing – but grabbed her hand to hold it to my skin for just a moment longer. "Okay," I said releasing her hand, "Let's go."
The drive to the gallery was uneventful. Emily and I made idle chit chat until we pulled into a spot that said 'reserved.' I smirked at her. "You have your own spot?"
She rolled her eyes and said, "Come on, you," and got out of the car. I quickly followed her lead but was met with a frown. "You should really let me get your door."
"Sorry, Em," I whispered. She was standing so close and somehow the night air charged the electricity between us further. I suddenly longed to feel her lips on mine.
"I want to apologize for what's about to happen."
"What do you mean?" I asked, my brows furrowed. But as we rounded the corner to walk in the main entrance, I immediately understood. Cameras started flashing immediately and a chorus of "Emily!" or "Ms. Prentiss!" surrounded us. And then they noticed me.
"Ms. Prentiss! Who's this? Who did you bring tonight?" The questions were endless as were the camera clicks. Emily's arm encircled my waist, drawing me closer.
"I'm sorry about this," she apologized again. Her lips brushed against the shell of my ear, and I had to bite back a moan, but I couldn't stop the shiver that ran down my spine. "Just pose with me? And then they'll go away." I smiled though I was a bit dazed. What had I gotten myself into? Emily's thumb rubbed circles into my hip, calming me down.
When we finally made it inside, Emily grabbed two wine glasses off a passing waiter's tray and handed me one immediately. Throughout the night, as we made polite conversation with all her socialite friends, she made sure my glass was full. I started slowly sipping so I didn't get drunk and embarrass her.
It was interesting to see Emily in this setting. Though she always seemed so poised and commanding, it was maxed out tonight. The Emily I saw at home was much different from this almost aloof woman. I could tell the strain it imposed on her to discuss meaningless things with these vapid women. And her arm never dropped from my waist, showing everyone I was hers. Normally such a possessive display would anger me, but I was all too willing to be hers.
After introducing me for what felt like the millionth time, Emily said, "Excuse me, ladies. I'd like to show my girl around." My heart fluttered in my chest like a hummingbird. I was her girl.
As we circled the gallery, I tried my hardest to stay engaged, but art really wasn't my thing. But this was important to Emily, so I dutifully looked at every painting we passed. She paused in front of an abstract painting that vaguely resembled two, intertwined bodies. Now that we were away from her friends, I couldn't help but ask, "How am I doing? Am I embarrassing you in front of all your friends?"
She grabbed my hand and squeezed. "You could never embarrass me."
"Even though I don't know anything about art?" I teased.
Her eyes sparkled as they penetrated mine. "Even then," she whispered. It seemed cruel to all the artists represented here tonight to showcase their art in the same building as Emily. She was the most beautiful work of art I had ever seen. Nothing would ever compare to the majesty of her smile. No color could ever be as deep as her eyes; nothing would ever compare to getting lost in her eyes.
"Emily!" a woman called over the noise of the crowd. Emily's entire body stiffened noticeably. "You are the center of the gossip tonight, did you know? You couldn't even tell your own mother you were bringing a date?"
"Mother," Emily said in curt greeting. Ahh that explains her sudden shift.
"A tux, really Emily? You couldn't find a dress to wear?" Suddenly, it didn't seem so unreasonable for Emily to speak of her mother the way she did. Emily's mother seemed like an incredibly unpleasant woman. "And aren't you going to introduce me?"
"Mother, this is my girlfriend" – the thrill at hearing the fake title hadn't lessened over the course of the night – "India Mae."
"I had no idea you were even dating," she said dramatically, "let alone seriously involved with someone. Honestly, I have no idea why you tell me so little about your life." I could venture a guess. Emily sighed deeply, her grip on my waist tightening a touch more in frustration. "Last I heard, you were seeing Jennifer."
Ouch. I had no reason to be upset because I wasn't actually dating Emily, but it still stung. Who was this woman coming in and talking to Emily about a different woman in front of the "current girlfriend?"
"Mother," Emily warned icily, anger tensing her whole body. "Don't. I JUST told you I was with Indi. That was incredibly rude." Inexplicably, it felt so good to have Emily defending me. This feeling, unfamiliar before meeting Emily, shot through my stomach, causing it to clench deliciously. It was reminiscent of every time our eyes locked or when she touched me. But it was much stronger now. I looked up at her: eyes tight and nostrils flared. My stomach tightened again. My lips ached to touch her jaw, her cheek, her own lips. Could this be what true desire felt like?
"Come on, baby," Emily interrupted my reverie. "Let's make sure we finish looking at everything and say congratulations to each artist. Then we can go, okay?" Every time she called me 'baby,' I tried not to read too much into it – especially now since we were in public – but it fell so sensually out of her mouth. I wanted to hear her gasp it breathlessly as I kissed her neck.
She grabbed my hand and started to turn away when her mother protested, "Emily! This is YOUR gallery. You cannot leave so early. What would it look like?"
"I don't care. Excuse us," she said pulling me away firmly. I sent a tight-lipped smile over my shoulder to Emily's mom, trying to be polite. I struggled to keep up with her walking as quickly as she was. I still wasn't used to wearing these heels.
"You didn't tell me this was YOUR gallery!" I whispered. "Why do you even have a gallery?? I thought you were in the FBI…"
"I am. This was just something I was interested in. I wanted to give young artists of color a chance to show their work. DC is hostile to new artists, especially young adults of color. We need more voices in the art world."
I admired what she was doing very greatly, and it furthered my desire to stay for the remainder of the evening. "We can't leave yet then! Your mom's right. It would be rude to dip out on your own gallery opening. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just did," she said nonchalantly with a shrug. We walked the gallery in silence after that. She hummed at a piece every now and then, and I dutifully followed her.
"So, what do you think?" she asked when we arrived at the last exhibit.
I scrambled to find something, anything, to say. I should have googled vague arty things to say in preparation for tonight. "It's uh…" I tried to find a compliment that wouldn't give away the fact that I didn't give a damn about paintings. "Nice," I finished lamely. Great job, Indi.
"Nice, huh?" she chuckled.
"Well frankly, I appreciate the arts in the form of music, but I am open to you changing that about me."
"I have yet to hear you appreciate the arts in the form of music," she teased.
"I can change that any time, Emily." I looked up into her eyes again to express my sincerity.
"I'd like that." Everything tunneled and narrowed until I could only see Emily, only hear her. No one else surrounded us. There was no party – there was only us.
I cleared my throat to break the tension. "Can we go home now? Or do you need to stay longer?"
"Sure baby, lemme just congratulate all the artists and say thank you for their work." As if we had been doing this for years, she leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth before turning and walking away. I stiffened, stunned by the electricity that scorched the skin under where her lips had touched me. Involuntarily, my hand raised to my mouth, as if touching the sacred place her lips had kissed me would preserve the feeling.
I watched her slowly turn around, her eyes wide. But all I could do was smile. She had kissed me. "Indi, I'm so- fuck. I'm so sorry."
"Not here, Em," I said closing the distance between us. "It's okay. Don't call attention to it. That's a normal thing for a couple to do." I cupped her face to ease her worry.
"Promise?" I nodded. "Come with me?" she asked in a voice much smaller than I was used to from her.
"I'm right behind you." Before I could stop myself, I grabbed her hand and intertwined our fingers together. I craved that feeling again – the feeling of tingling skin from where her lips nearly kissed mine. It wasn't quite the same holding her hand, but it was better than nothing, because I just craved her. Each inch of space between us felt like a mile.
I thought it might be awkward at first. I mean, what does one talk about after almost being kissed by the most beautiful woman on the planet? What is one supposed to say when their dream almost comes true? But I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. I would take any affection she showed me. I was worried there was something undesirable about me. Maybe that was why nothing had worked out for me romantically so far.
But once the feel of her lips faded from my skin, and the more I heard her "Fuck, I'm so sorry" echo around my head, it started to eat at me. How easy she could just brush it off. It was all I could think about. It affected me profoundly. Emily's lips, even just on my cheek, had shifted my world.
When we finally got in the car to go home, I bit my lip and stared out the window. I don't know how many minutes passed, but Emily's voice finally interrupted my yearning. "Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question. She just knew.
"How can you tell?" I was genuinely curious. We had only known each other a couple weeks now, and nearly all that time had been virtual.
"You're pretty easy to read, Indi. Now tell me."
"I was just thinking about earlier…" I said honestly. Why lie?
"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I crossed a line. I wish I could take it back." I felt like I was punched in the gut. She wanted to take it back.
"Oh…" I couldn't keep the hurt out of my voice, though I tried my hardest. It was ridiculous for me to be so affected by this. This was the arrangement – this is what I had agreed to. There was no room for me to long for her, to want her.
I quickly backtracked because clearly this meant way more to me than it did Emily. I was embarrassed, so I lied. "Actually, I was curious about your mother."
"Oh!" she said in shock. "Well, we don't have the best relationship…" Even though Emily was telling me valuable information about herself, I couldn't listen. My heart stung like the tears in my eyes I fought to keep from falling.
I started when I felt her hand on mine in my lap. "Hey…" I appreciated her gesture, and I held onto her hand like a life preserver. I looked up, shocked to discover we were home. "I know that isn't what you wanted to talk about." Damn profilers. I couldn't hide anything from her. We walked inside in tense silence.
I moved to head upstairs when she pulled on my shoulder to stop me. "What is it? Do you want to call this off?"
I snapped my gaze to meet hers. "No!" How could she think that? "I was just wondering…" Jesus, I was so embarrassed.
"Yes?" she prompted. She sighed, frustrated I wouldn't just spit it out. "This can only work if you're honest with me. I won't judge. Whatever it is, you can tell me."
"Why don't you want to have sex with me?!" I blurted.
Her jaw dropped and she froze like a deer in the headlights. "What!" she gasped. Clearly she was expecting to hear that as much as I had been expecting to say it.
There was no turning back now. "You were so set on no physical contact and then you said you regret kissing me."
"I never said I regretted it," she interrupted. I looked at her puzzled, waiting for her to elaborate. "I said I wished I could take it back." I failed to see how that was meaningfully different. I didn't know if that was supposed to make me feel better.
She pulled me to the couch and sat down next to me, maintaining her grasp on my hand. "You deserve something real, Indi. You're so special. I just want you to be happy."
"But am I so repulsive to you in that way? Is it so crazy to think of me like that?" Christ! I must have had way too much wine. Where had my filter gone?
"Of course not! Honestly I was under the impression it was a dealbreaker for you. And I don't need that; the terms of our agreement do not need to include sex." My stomach sank again. Don't make it awkward, India. She's being polite; she doesn't want to hurt your feelings. The agreement doesn't need to include sex because she doesn't feel that way for you. And why would she?
I quickly made an excuse and headed upstairs to bed. I slowly pulled pins out of my hair. I wiped eyeliner off my eyelids in a daze. When I washed my face, I watched makeup rinse down the drain. It was like scrubbing away my hope. It was naive to think this could turn into some fairytale romance. Real life didn't work like that. This was nothing more than a business arrangement. A job.
But everyone needed to figure out a way to enjoy their job, right? As I laid in bed, aching to feel her lips on me again, I had to come up with a plan to get her to kiss me again. If she would only show me affection when we were out, in order to keep up appearances, then I would just have to curate several scenarios to get her to do that. After all, if this was my job, I needed to give Emily what she was paying for.
_ _ _
Continue to next chapter
#🌬 fics#tastes like sugar#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x oc#emily prentiss fanfiction#emily prentiss smut#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds au#wlw writing
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In 1986, U.S. apparel manufacturers cut their annual production of women’s suits by 40 percent; the following year, production dropped by another 40 percent. Several large suit manufacturers shut down their women’s lines altogether. The sudden cutback wasn’t inspired by a lack of demand: in 1986, women’s purchases of suits and blazers jumped 5.3 percent. And this reduction wasn’t gender-blind. In the same two years, output of men’s suits stayed the same.
Soon, department stores phased out the executive-dressing wings that they had opened for professional women in the late 1970s. Marshall’s shut down its Careers department; Carson Pirie Scott closed its Corporate Level division for women; Neiman Marcus removed all coordinated women’s business suits from many of its stores. Paul Harris Stores switched from women’s career clothes to miniskirts (and promptly lost $5.6 million). And Alcott & Andrews, the store that billed itself as a female Brooks Brothers when it opened in 1984, began stocking ruffled dresses. When Molloy toured its New York store in 1987, he couldn’t find a single suit. (Two years later, Alcott & Andrews went bankrupt.)
Susan Faludi, Backlash: The Undeclared War against Women
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May tenth
Sitting in the living room waiting for my mom to get out the shower so I can tell her I'm going out. Got ready in my dirty room where I shoved stuff around and reached into the birthday gift bag I discarded in the closet, to pull out two twenties to press them into the pocket of my wallet, next to three Tylenols. Three, because I took one, in addition to one I grabbed off my incense stand. My hair is pulled back, has been since I decided to get ready and jointly decided that it fits my looks. Wearing a top I bought from Neiman marcus, bloomingdales, and I swore as I billed the brown top it was the xs- I'd gotten two shirts. But one's black, and that ones the X-small. This one is small and I can tuck my black bra straps under its neck, though during the night they'll stand out with movement. I know this, but it's sloppier to not try in the first place. I spotted some heels on the bottom stand of my closet, from a birthday two summers ago, say 'nineteen.' They say hi to me now and I put them on my feet because I need to wear new shoes. I'll buy more shoes. I curl my lashes twice on each side, customarily, and as I apply mascara I admire the coating. I move my hand around my bag from last weekend and apply my eight dollar life changing lipstick. It feels more ordinary now but it looks good. I roll perfume oil onto my skin again for the second time. Have it sink in. I have gum in my mouth but the container is too large to fit in my bag. I notice quickly I also have another, smaller roll on and cough drops in the bag. I would've tried for jewelry but I need a new chain so I go without. I'm not really a fan for jewelry anyways, though I did wince as I stuck amber circles into my ears. Music has played through this. Still sitting in the living room. It's nine-twenty, and the time was to be at her house by nine, though not everyone will be there by nine, and she lives ten minutes away okay my mom came out. Got permission im in my car ttyl world
Nine twenty-four
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Neiman Marcus Card Holder New.
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https://tinyurl.com/54c7jc7p
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The strums
I love summer tourist season. Especially when it’s hot and muggy. The suburban vibrates through my grid like ancient black holes compose music for the universe. The husband and wife in matching Cubs gear or sacrifices to St. Louis. In the lobby of the Willis I watch the foreign families place orders. The men take care of the children, the women take care of themselves. The stateless hide here, the fallen, while on the skydeck you buy tickets and pretend to fall. When I leave the lobby I greet the smell of human sweat in the wedge of revolving door. I go around again, I do it all before, my contribution to our stench. On Michigan Avenue I am the gray urban man. Oohing and aahing the climate control on my way into your experience. I embrace my role as a Karen. Stop riding your Divvy on the sidewalk! I am the cop, the trembling Russian soldier, the notetaker, the lookout. In the median strips of Mag Mile the state troopers idle. They protect not you, not me, they protect Neimans and its mormon products. “If the message of western civilization is I am alone,” you won’t find any notifications here. One thing I love about originality is doing the same thing all over again. Like dropping a thirty dollar bill in the beggar’s cup. This man is older than my arrhythmia. Mein herz gets medicine but his is still beat. It doesn’t give me the blues so much as the strums.
I am the body in joy. My happiness complete. It’s hard not to get sentimental about vinyl records, when you pull out a Nonesuch and hear, the first movement of Horenstein’s Mahler 3. Last week I streamed it three times after the barista made me the Purple Eye. He wanted to prove to me it was a real thing, three shots of espresso and drip, he showed me the listing in his training manual, a binder of three rings. On Monday morning I found the Horenstein vinyl. Gregg told me he’s not so into these slower tempo interpretations. Gregg pauses when I talk about my love for Tinter’s Bruckner 2. Tinter even got mad when people killed cockroaches, and you know those Europeans have seen a lot of vermin, and you know to be a vegetarian you must take things as they come. I watched All Quiet on the Western Front. I wasn’t moved, like the war’s advance. You can just read current events if you must be moved by World War I. An exhibit in progress.
Every June, happy intern parade, we love you Miss Hannigan. My conservative girls are poetry stars from eight years ago, frescos up their quads and down their hammies. With Uptown girls you need to talk, find out what they’re interested in, quote Pennymaker, quote Badioo. You’ve got to say things about boygenius like, Phoebe is the waitress wearing a mask, Lucy is the waitress not wearing the mask, Julian Baker is the waitress in the back on her smoke break, and then Uptown girls have to call you a romantic or a misogynist. You talk the same time they talk, like Iris and Nate in Dimes Square.
Downtown my girls are different. You can say um or for sure and not feel like an idiot. What are they carrying in those shoulder bags? Mischievous and tight and testing the sexual patience of the men on this commuter train. Even I can’t concentrate on my cancer while she does her eyebrows. The Evanston of the Mind. The Digestive System of Lake Bluff. She sees my hard chest in a Performance polo, licks her lips. Maybe I’m not like every other award-winning dentist who chose the quiet car. We’re back at her hotel and when I go to leave I see Nordstrom Rack price stickers in the heels of her heels.
Back at home they’re all asleep. I sink my feet into the bowl we use for salads. After seeing the home runs I put on California Split. Elliott Gould once said “blogging is not writing it is graffiti with punctuation.” That’s more Monica’s Dad on Friends than Charlie Waters, his character in Split. I want to write Patrick back about all the thrilling stuff he said about Succession and tell him it has the word success in it. He made this typo for “like” as “lips” and he corrected it and I said, don’t correct your typos, don’t bother writing, just keep typing, because when I’d read “lips” I’d thought it correct. The topic made you wanna open your trap, loosen your jaw, and let the spit that gathers at the collective corners of our mouth water the lawns of our brains with meanings. I want a creamy white sweater like George Segal wears in Split but it won’t look the same on my frame.
Yeah, I will write Patrick, all cunty poetry a footnote to Ginsberg’s “I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.” I think there’s a lot of cunty poetry out there but it’s still very academic. We’re using cunty in a good way. I feel like I heard a lot of cunty stuff in Seattle this year with Charles, who manages to find the cool things. When I go to those creative writing events I always end up applauding a White guy who lives up to his capitalization. But all the freakazoids Charles finds, they’re working through interesting stuff, as those types usually are. Yeah, it was the best stuff about Succession. Better than my sentencing mind. Dad had to die early in the season, “an absence that needed to be felt in order to feel the full force of Kendall’s ecstatic embrace of fascism in his eulogy at the funeral, a funeral that he transforms into a black mass, baptizing himself as one of the True Killers…” we all want big fat letters like this stringing a zither across our navel, not “the hostile shafts of paid critics.” What I really need to tell Patrick is I wouldn’t have California Split without him, the two-toned credits my safe space, the absence of music but the engorging sound just like an OG Columbo episode, the murderer money, the finest example the elevator thrumming at the beginning of La Notte. Have you ever noticed the sign outside the titty bar. When Gould’s just walking up. Licking his likes. Lipping his money. The sign that says the titty bar has “the worst piano player on earth.”
My son says Daddy, what do you call the lines you string, do you call them the plucks, and I say you call them the strings, and on the strings you strum, but you can call them whatever you want because I will never forget the things you used to say. I wake up just after midnight and reorder the flow of the deck. In the morning I carry my son’s bike up the street and ride him around the track. Tears come to my eyes when I say the thing you need to do is look straight ahead, tighten your tummy, and think about what this will feel like when you don’t need Daddy’s help. He says that won’t be today. I say it could be today. He says it will probably be in, like, 200 days. I say it could be in 50 days. He says it won’t be tomorrow. I say, well, it could be today. The lesson of western civilization is that our children grow up. I’m sweating and overusing an underutilized part of my shoulder, the name of the part I forget, my masseuse says it helps with the initial lift. Helping with the initial lift is my business.
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Those diamond Spears can cut through kju a thousand miles tall and really big ones are 100 can cut through a Galactus it's a thousand miles tall, and by calculation now they be able to hold it off a little and jump out of the way but really if it hits direct Hit right away that Galactus is disabled and that's what we need and they're trying to put them in these big 500 Miles ships and our friend says those ships aren't big enough and we agree but there are plenty of them that are and they have a whole bunch of 1,000 mile and they're not big enough but they can put a few 20s into equal a 100 and we agree that would do it or death star or planetary the dust are would do it too and they have several and they're big enough they're going for other ships now and there is a comet empire ship and it's towards the west of the upper Midwest and it is a 400 Mile line coming empire ship and our friend says the other half is in the east and they say it's not that far east it's still in the in that area but it's more in Canada and the two halves go together and it's disguise as an asteroid and has actual soil and more it stays on it. Now we understand what that means it's going to be the celestial object probably near Saturn and stuff and there's so many out there it's hard to tell and people documented it but they changed and it should know but they did it really it's a good disguise and we can do this amazing these blasters are huge I've never seen anything like it and he explained what you are this is his invention and there they are they'll go through anything and possibly thorium which is what people really need and we have to get those and we can't let them at them looks like Bob birdies might grab one and it says it's possible because it looks like Jason grabs the alien chips and a saucers and we agree another little possessed and they mutate because of it and our friend is huge we calculated it could be 20 ft tall and fully grown he says I don't really need that I couldn't even fit in here what am I going to eat I have to go over that place take me 2 minutes to walk over there or I'd have to jog I need some cows in the morning. Just keep telling John Reema Lord that I'm eating his family. His smiling saying it's kind of my style and I taught him I taught him well he says he can like leave a few and cut them with weird stuff like lasers little ones you know how to do that with a sphere yeah I have Alicia pick it up and Neiman Marcus. At least he's out of here like the rocket. I don't even want to sacrifice those things it's not doing me any good the a****** keeps taking my stuff that I take I didn't find out that we're doing because he's so damned evil I'm trying to fight him and people are going to find out that he's really really awful. The last two sentences was John River Lord and we know what he's saying he hasn't really discovered the whole thing but when he does he'll agree it's way too bad it's awful and their armies will run around by Tommy after that not that it's terrible what's happened to them now they have an opportunity to get him back especially with the comet empire ships and all those brand new star Blazer ships are from the common empire are you inside it and they have a few of them so they understand it you said the date is probably on the ship about the comet empire ships and they look through and they couldn't find it and it's probably encoded in files that can't open and they said they can't open them and he said it's probably the manual so they're going to go look and some objects and so forth so they're going to go look now
Billium
I said thank God and he said no in this case thank William and Bill in the consortium of billium. He's never rude to me but boy I was rude to him this is how we operate so he knows about it and one of his programs was up there and father and mother actually Thor and Freya said it first and they knew about it we say this it's his camera idea and they named it Odin and this is horrible
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Wyoming bill would add 'designated agent' role to Food Freedom Act#Wyoming #bill #add #designated #agent #role #Food #Freedom #Act
The first amendments in six years to Wyoming’s much-cited Food Freedom Act are now pending with the Legislature in Cheyenne.
Senate File (SF) No. 102 is sponsored by Senators Salazar, Barlow, Biteman, Boner, Driskill, Hutchings, and Steinmetz and Representatives Neiman, Ottman, Penn, and Somers. As the prime sponsor, Sen. Tim Salazar, R-Riverton, is confident the bill will be adopted and signed…
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Saffiano Flap Card Coin Pouch.
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These Are The Best Burberry Scarf Dupes Under 100!
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Fashionable And Comfy Burberry Scarf China
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I purchased a Burberry scarf in the pink and cream shade from Neiman Marcus. So I guess some of their patterns are blurrier than others, nevertheless it nonetheless wasn’t as blurry because the one which I obtained from the eBay seller that was fake. I ended up returning that scarf to Neiman Marcus because it simply didn’t look as good and particular person has it had on-line. 1stDibs presents an extraordinary range of genuine Burberry scarves.
“We simply offered out of a few of them — a bit of a shock so early in the season,” she says, and points to the brand’s thicker, chunky-gauge types just like the Gianna scarf as prime sellers for the model. Gucci GG Jacquard ScarfThe Gucci GG motif was originally designed in the Thirties, nevertheless it wasn’t until the reimagined model was launched within the Nineteen Seventies that it actually turned a key piece of the Italian model. Clear proof that the motif continues to be a robust image to today, the GG Jacquard scarf is a best-seller around the world—take one have a glance at it and you’ll understand why. I obtained a package right now with a Burberry scarf and an odd bill of 6,180,00 HKD. The scarf is NOT evenly striped on each finish. It would have been easy for them to match the stripes on the end.
Burberry fantastic and eccentric "Wind-Blown Doggies & Umbrellas" silk jacquard scarf is accented with hand-rolled edges and measures 18 inches by 18 and a half inches. This Burberry scarf is in good situation no holes no tears, no stains Tassels are full and intact at both ends Light weight scarf made from 100%LAMBSWOOL It has been dry cleaned s... one hundred pc GENUINE BURBERRY VINTAGE SCARF First slightly bit concerning the Burberry Brand we've been requested many occasions why are some of our scarves and coats with Burberrys on the logo and ... First slightly bit in regards to the Burberry Brand we now have been requested many occasions why are some of our scarves and coats with Burberrys on the emblem and never Burberry Burberry and Burberrys ...
Those who are interested in this designer might also discover the work of Valentino, Moschino and Missoni interesting. On 1stDibs, discover designer Burberry scarves, classic and high fashion from top boutiques all over the world. On 1stDibs, the price for this stuff begins at $135 and tops out at $985 while the average work can promote for $392.. 100% genuine Burberry verify scarf in sheer brown, black, white and burgundy silk (100% - lacking tag).
I cannot persons are hacking into accounts to promote counterfeit goods. Sometimes you can luck out on eBay however I guess there’s no way for eBay to check every itemizing to see if it’s for actual. Fortunately the feedback system helps, until in fact the account will get hacked! wikipedia scarf Best to avoid wasting up and buy the true factor for peace of thoughts. I love this scarf and I’m glad I lastly splurged and purchased one. I wore it a couple of instances in February earlier than our weather turned hotter and it kept my neck toasty warm.
Specifically, on all of the Nova Check designs, all black strains run throughout the material in units of three; each equidistant from the next. A skinny red line will minimize through these darkish traces at a crisp, perpendicular angle, creating excellent square blocks. True Burberry R’s may have pointed ridges that resemble a bicycle’s kickstand, and the path will curl slightly outwards, like in the below-left picture. If the letters on the Burberry scarf in query are straight with no ridges or pointed edges, like the best photograph below, there’s an excellent probability it’s fake. The beneath photo is of the packaging of a Burberry product. If you purchase a Burberry scarf from a certified retailer, it's going to doubtless come rolled up in a thick canister with a bow, and this equestrian knight emblem embossed on the entrance in gold.
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