Margaret phoned last night, just as I was going out to band practice. The woman is incorrigible. She related an extremely seedy account of what she did one lunchtime this week. My God, what a lifestyle! I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. Where's the romance, where's the passion, where's the emotion? It's all so hollow, so empty. A quickie at lunchtime with someone she'd never met before, some furtive oral sex under her work desk... I expect she gave him a blowjob after that, but I couldn't wait for that part of the story. I'll no doubt get the full story tomorrow. We're going cycling round Rutland Water, which should be fun...

I like her a lot. She's really funny, a great sense of humour, and very quick-witted. But I do struggle with her amoral lifestyle. I couldn't live like that.

Anyway, been practicing my singing a bit as well, recently. I don't know why I'm so hung up about singing in public, when I'm happy to get on stage and play the fiddle. I've been determined to conquer it ever since that time when Margaret sang in the Arts Centre Bar. She just got up and did it, no worries, no nerves. Really cool. I want to be able to do that. So I've been practicing hard. Working on "I wonder what is keeping" and "Withered and died" mainly. I'll maybe give it a go at the gig next week. Then again, the Scar and Batter isn't the best place in the world to try out a tender song of unrequited love... *G* "Bang Bang Maxwell's Silver Hammer" would be more in keeping...

Where has my love life gone? Twenty years old, and not a man in sight. Not that they're in short supply, right enough, but where are the decent ones? The ones I can trust? There's only so often a girl can lie in bed diddling with herself before she goes mad, and I think I'm getting there. Fast! *L* Must be the hot weather, but I'm at it every day just now. And the strangest things go through my mind. Such fantasies...

Last night, it was really, really hot. Kicked the blankets off early and just lay there. I couldn't hold back from stroking myself. The air was hot, and so was I. Unconsciously, the strangest thing came into my mind, and it is really horrible, when you think about it. I can't actually work out whether it was a fantasy or a dream, whether I was awake or sleeping. Sort of half way between the two, I think. I was playing with myself as it happened, and I was aware that I was doing that, so I must have been at least part awake, but the story itself just seemed to come out of nowhere, and it proceeded in a kind of dream-like haze, and I had no control over it.

I was working in the bar. It was afternoon, I think, anyway there was only one person in, sitting at the bar. It wasn't George or Dave. At least I hope it wasn't!! That would be too much. If I ever start having erotic dreams about them, take me away and lock me up! It was a guy, just somebody, no-one specific. He was making small talk, the usual pub chat you hear every day. Then he started getting a bit explicit. Told me his wife was frigid, and he wasn't getting any. A question kind of hung in the air: sort of "and what are you going to do about it, missy?" He started complimenting me on my figure, things like "you have fantastic tits" (well, I told you it was a fantasy! *G*) and "turn around, let me see your gorgeous rear", that kind of stuff. Subtle. I ignored it and carried on with what I was doing. I went to wipe down the tables and bring back the ashtrays.

As I returned to the bar, he gripped me by the hand. I shouted to him to let go, but he just gripped me tighter, smiling at me with an evil look.

"What are you playing at?" I shouted.

"Not playing," he said. I didn't know what he meant. He was still gripping me, and he pulled my hand down towards his crotch. I saw what he was doing and tried to pull away, but he was too strong. He pressed my hand against his crotch, and I could feel he was hard.

"Please," I said, but he ignored me and kept pressing my hand to him.

"Unzip me," he said.

"No way!" I shouted. "Get off me." I really meant it, and wouldn't ever have done it, but then the dream (or fantasy, or whatever it was) went freaky, you know the way they do. Things don't follow logically, the story chops and changes. The next thing I knew I actually had done it, I had unzipped his trousers and was rummaging about in his knickers. I slid my hand under them and grasped his thing. It was huge, long and really fat. He smiled at me and told me to wank him. And of course, in this dream/fantasy, I did. Why would I dream something like this? But I did, anyway. I started to wank him, harder and harder and harder until - and this is when it all went so totally leftfield it just defies explanation, just as he was about to come he turned into a woman! What is that all about??

Of course, this being a dream, I just carried on like nothing had happened, so now I was standing at the bar stroking a woman's pussy. I have never had any lesbian fantasies in my life, so it is just bizarre. What does it mean? Anyway, I carried on, and she pushed me down between her legs and made me lick her. I was down on my knees, looking up her thighs at her privates, and she had her hand on my head pulling me towards her. In real life I came at that point (hard!) and woke up or came to my senses, or whatever, probably because even in my subconscious I had no idea what would happen next!! *G*

But hey, weird huh? Really weird. Don't tell me I'm turning into a dyke! That would just put the tin lid on things. *LOL*

Off to bed now. God knows what I'll dream about this time, but if a dog wanders into the story, for Christ's sake wake me up and call me a shrink...

Night night