Women eh! I've had them up to here!

And it's true, I have. But then you can't see what part of my body I'm pointing at - clue, it's not the top of my head. But seriously, most of my troubles lately have come with a pair of tits. In my former life, women were my friends and it was blokes who messed my emotions about, but now it's often the reverse.

Take the weekend. A little burst of unexpected joy led to a lot of grief and I found myself seeking out my mates, Calvin and Tommy. Frankly, what they know about women could be tattooed on their cocks, and it would still leave room for the Brighton Telephone Directory. However they're great listeners and, as we're all a bit girly, we bond.

After much conversation and cosmopolitans we agreed that women were odd birds. Think about this, for instance. Imagine you were a gay bloke (easy, if you live in Brighton) and you were walking down the street. Amazingly, every man you see is dressing sexily - little lycra shorts, tight white T-shirts, leather pants, painted-on jeans - imagine that? You wouldn't believe your luck or that tent in your pants! But,sadly, it's a fantasy, because one guy in a 100 may be hunky, but the rest are in baggy jeans/slacks/shorts/shirts/football tops/suits and are decidedly un-sexy.

However, imagine you're a healthy, average, pert-buttocked woman, like me for instance. And you're walking down the street, any street in Brighton or any other town for that matter. What do you see? Well, if they are under 30 you see porn-stars. Almost every woman has a tiny top - nipples proud, a tanned belly, and low slung pussy-hugging jeans like denim knickers with legs. It's true isn't it? Almost every young woman (str8 or gay) this summer has been a dyke's dream.

But, and here's the twist, how many actually knew this. I'm sure every woman knows what she's showing but do they understand the effect? My Lord, I suggest not!

And then look at the women who are totally unaware of their sexual allure. First, our gallant girls in blue.

If you've noticed a sudden increase in your area of chaps in stripey pullovers with bags marked 'Swag' over their shoulders it's because every police officer in the UK is in Brighton this week.

It's the New Labour Party Confer...sorry I fell asleep at my Mac. Anyway the whole city is buzzing with bill. We were watching some female officers harressing the hunt supporters and someone suggested that although the boys have come out, with Dep Ass Com Paddick leading a Pride parade, the girls stay in the community closet.

But, it follows that gay girls would fascinated by the fuzz just as they make up a large proportion of our female armed services. And let's face it, a PC with a pussy is verrrry attractive,

First, they wear a uniform: bum-hugging skirt and a tight blouse and tight leather belts and black tights and shiny buttons. And how about the rough gaberdine trousers and big leather boots? They'd go down (and come down) rather well at the Candy Bar. Then, there's the new double-ended 'truncheons', wow! Anne Summers could really penetrate the gay market with them!

And what about the handcuffs? Or the strip-searches and the tight latex gloves? - "Bend over Ms Dark, we believe you're hiding an elicit bottle of Jack Daniels"!

No wonder they're called the filth! But cops aren't alone, have you clocked the traffic wardens? Or, on the subject of unaware sexiness - the business bunnies.

They are about when you're just getting back from the club and I'm out jogging to the newsagent. That's right, business women on their way to work.

But,look at their executive suits. They may be conservative and dressed for success but the jackets are cut short and the material's lycra so they display a cute bottom line.

Case proved.

Final cheap cop gag: Sexy PC: "OK, Ms Dark, may I warn you that anything you say will be taken down and used in evidence against you"

"Knickers"

Love & it's hard being lez Sadie

Have you got Cameltoe?

After a downer of a week it's the monthly dyke nite at the pub I work for and guess what's coming down? Well it wasn't my lycra sports shorts this time because on looking in the mirror I decided I looked too much like a crack sportswoman. Yes, I had serious case of cameltoe. This is a ladies' complaint that has had much coverage in the USA. TV shows and websites like Cameltoe.com and Cameltoeworld.com are devoted to it. I hadn't thought about it until I saw it mentioned in one of the men's mags we have at the health club where I also work. Frankly it's caused by tight fabric over your pubic mound with your labia creating a notch in your pants so forming a 'cameltoe' shape. Many of my readers are probably suffering from it at this moment and most of Britain's women innocently display it every day. I must be flashing my 'toe everytime I workout at my gym or go for a run. It's not a great look although I bet there many who think it's kinda sexy (I've met several women who are convinced men are turned on by VPL) But, considering the audience tonight, I dropped my shorts and wore sweat pants instead.

These would have been a safe choice except they carried the word 'juicy' written over my bum and this rather excited the muffia mob. However I received less attention than last time thanks to Deb, as usual, looking stunning in her naughty nurses outfit and the fact that my boss had hired a stripper.

She was great, waving her arse and tits in the customer's faces and sitting on their laps. She had the trick of handling the crowd without letting them handle her. I chatted to her in our breaks, sitting in the pub kitchen, with her wearing an open beachwrap, totally relaxed in her nudity. "Women are the worst" she testified, idly tweaking the hair on her tiny pubic strip, "blokes rarely cross the line but pissed women think anything goes".

I haven't had the chance to cross-examine a stripper before. So I asked lots of questions including the obvious one - does she even get turned on when exposing herself to an audience?

"Not at all" she said, but then she thought again "some nights maybe, when someone in the crowd looks fanciable". She admiitted however that interaction with women now gave her a bit of a thrill.

"You a lezzie?" she asked. "I am now I think" I replied. "Do you miss the pricks?" she inquired. "No I said, I'm still surrounded by them" Bitter I suppose, but then I'd just had my sweat pants pulled down while I was holding a trayful of drinks.

On a happier note two American readers have e-mailed me both puzzled by my reference to 'snogging'. This British term is unknown from them and I'm afraid I probably disappointed them with the correct definition. I think they expected something far more sordid. For a minute I imagined exciting their imagination in my fictional style:

...her eyes grew fearful and she gasped as I withdrew the Snogger from its rubber case. "Assume the position slut" I snarled as I carefully lubricated it. Her orgasmic screams echoed across Brighton as we snogged all night...

Love & watch out for that cameltoe. Sadie

Today I've seen more arseholes than a proctologist

Sorry short blog today. I've just got back from the pub - it's been a long day and I seem to have lost my sense of humour along the way. If you find it treat it gently as its had a bit of a spanking. I awoke, my usual stunning self, it was a normal day, I'd forgotten to close the curtains so my neighbours got a flash of my dark places - still they're mostly gay guys. I had a snappy, bitchy phone conversation with my new best friend (sorry) - more of this in a future blog. Then I opened my post, and found a letter from the bank/overdrawn/£25 charge etc etc. I stopped off for a recuperative hot chocolate at Cafe 22 and bumped into Anus 2, one of the muffia who gave me a hard time about being bi. Words were exchanged, I left, went to bank and faced Anus 3, a stupid cow who seemed to think I was responsible for my overdraft. After that Brighton seemed to become a rectal nightmare - people in the streets and serving in the shops becoming all pink and puckered.

Then it was showtime behind the bar. For some reason it was packed and stifling. I love getting hot and sweaty (haw haw) but not because of rude people, shouted orders and lost tempers. Thank you and good riddance Tuesday 22nd!

Back home I was a bit brisk with three lovely sexy people on GaydarGirl (sorry) and so to cool down (and heat up) I naturally hit the porn button. Tonight I saw a bit of Captain Stabbin and his Anal Adventures.

The salty old seadog invites curvy ladies onto his boat and talks them out of their bikinis. He does a quick tour of their superstructure and then commentates whilst a crewmember takes them up the poopdeck. There should be a joke about seamen somewhere but I'm a bit tired.

Love & roll on tomorrow Sadie

Why the thong approach is right.

You know that woman you saw sitting on a barstool in her too tight jeans with her shirt open to her waist and a really irritating laugh? Just who did she think she was? Well, for the last week or so she's been me. Thanks to a collision of circumstances I've been annoying people in bars all over Brighton.

One reason was my lack of Mac. Nothing to write on, or e-mail with, so I deserted my flat. Another reason was extra cash for overtime thanks to a staff shortage at work - it's amazing how infectious health clubs can be. Main reason was plain randiness - no-one's got into my pants for months.

So there I was with various friends. Since I started this blog they've all requested that I change their names - amazing! this bunch of freaks and pervs don't want to be associated with me. So my best friend is now Ms Rude and so on, I've called my two best male friends Tommy and Calvin after their underwear which is frequently displayed about their Seven jeans.

Which neatly gets me on to a pissy discussion that Ms Rude, Ms Take, Tommy, Calvin and I had at the top of our voices in Kruze last week. Tommy made some typically annoying gay observation (ie.witty) about the amount of thong that we girls had on show. I must admit we did look a bit like three sumo wrestlers on our barstools.

Knowing I was on the pull (hopefully!) he added that maybe mine was some sort of come-on to really desperate women. This got us thinking about sending signals to ladies on the lookout. You know that gay guys are supposed to have some code involving hankies in back pockets? Well imagine a thong code!

A green thong would mean go!!!!, I'm up for it you slut.

An orange thong would mean caution! move carefully and you might end up parking in my slot

A red one would mean stop! I'm a smug fucker in a perfectly balanced one-2-one relationship or I've got a period, sod off! On the other hand it could just mean I'm the sort of easy slapper who wears red underwear.

It's amazing how philosophical you get at 12am. But thong signals or not I have pulled and I'll spill the beans in another blog.

My encounter however proves that not every gay woman is prejudiced against bisexuals. And after my rant a few blogs ago I got a bit of support from lots of nice people and a lot of shit from the Brighton Muffia.

Still someone showed me an article in GScene, a gay Brighton mag. I don't always look at it (it's very boysie with lots of pics of unfortunate men who've had to turn up at parties in just their underpants - which seem to have shrunk in the wash, poor dears!) However this article was quite encouraging. A group called Brightonbothways for Brighton bisexuals has been formed. There are now about 40 members and they meet at The Queens Head on Thursdays.Their treasurer Susie says it's about people being allowed to express their true feelings (I'm all for that!) And they mention clubbing, walks and a five-day camp with riding (not bareback I trust!) and skinny-dipping so it sounds like fun. Contact Susie at shuangxinglian@hotmail.com.

Bye bye from a bi-bi

Love - at last! Sadie

A threesome with Richard and Judy

Hey, I'm still Macless but have access to a friend's machine for a few minutes. Without my Mac I haven't been blogging or writing my stuff or viewing porn - so how have I been entertaining myself?

Well, I've been entertaining myself. My daily wanking workout to keep my creative juices flowing. I tend to do this in the afternoon before I go to work. I'm far too shagged after an evenings' bartending to shag myself at night. For stimulation I only have my imagination and my TV and at this time in the afternoon I find myself lying on the bed, finger on the button, waiting for blast off - and watching Richard and Judy.

(For my American readers R&J is a chat show with married presenters - a bit like Regis and 'whoever' - blondes on US TV all look alike to me)

So I'm watching our charismatic presenters and try to turn myself on. I imagine Richard and Judy naked...no doesn't work for me,fucking then...no...doing it doggy-style with Richard rampant and ramming Judy, her screaming in ecstacy as he slaps her awesome bum cheeks...no..nothing I'm afraid.

A threesome then. Me shafting Richard with a 10 inch dildo. Me shafting Judy with a 10 inch dildo...whoops I've lost it up there somewhere! But no luck...my muff remains unmoved. But then they introduce Joanna Lumley as a guest ...and bingo!

Love & can't wait for my Mac Sadie

My blog is buggered!

And I'm pretty blogged off. I'm typing this brief apology on a friend's computer because my Mac is unwell. I rang the Mac mender and he said bring it in, he then said "I think it's the hard disk, I can replace it but you'll lose everything - of course you've backed up haven't you?" Whoops, my silence told him that this was not the case. I think I heard his glasses steam up and his spots explode. Shit, all my writing is on it. My friend offers assistance and red wine. Be back soon

Love & prayers Sadie

It was an evening of two halves. Round 1 took place in Charles St, I'd gone in expecting a quietish drink with friends - I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition! (nnnnno-one expects the Spanish Inquisition etc etc)

First, my friend Ms Hap was with another group of people who I only vaguely know. We all said hello, talked about the sun, the Sopranos etc, then suddenly one of them started on me. She'd read my blog and found my advert on GaydarGirls.com and her bitch (fuelled I expect from an overdose of Barcadi Breezers) was that I call myself bisexual. "What was this all about" she demanded, "was I only interested in 'bicpl4sex' ads ?". There are a few on Gaydar (rather dull looking blokes and foxy ladies I think, and one Brighton girl has a particularly shapely bum).

But I denied this outright. "Not at all" I blustered, "I call myself a bi because until relatively recently I was into blokes but attracted to women and now it's women who do it for me, but I'm not a man-hater and I admit that I still find some of them fanciable" Whoops, the sisterhood around the table glared at me. If I'd impaled myself on the nearest prick and sung 'Love to love you baby', the effect couldn't have been more negative.

Everyone had an opinion: "You're either gay or you're not blah blah", "people who call themselves bi are denying their sexuality blah blah" "I bet you're not getting any responses from proper gay women on Gaydar blah blah", " you should be burnt as a bisexual witch" (I made that one up)

Enough, enough. I left them all feeling righteous. So I like meat and fish! That's me, that's what I am, take it or leave it. As I was about to leave I literally bumped into Ms Hastings (not real name obviously, she just comes from that fair town). We'd chatted at a Christmas party and got on famously. So I sat down again and Round 2 began.

Much, much more fun. Ms Hastings and I caught up with life, ex-girlfriends and the universe. She's what you might call full-bodied - she says she's cuddly. And she is, in both curves and manner. She's very open and enthusiastic whilst I'm a bit... well 'dark'. Strangely we were almost dressed alike, silky jackets, jeans and pointy boots. We both fancied a bop so went next door to Envy. We danced, then cuddled (I told you she was cuddly). Then we snogged. Then, I ripped open her filmy blouse and my hungry lips feasted on her....

...No, that's what I write during the day. What actually happened was, we snogged..then...then I burst into tears. Memories of my 'ex' flooded me and my eyes. What a twat! Ms Hastings was very sweet and drove me home. We pecked cheeks and vowed to meet again. Ho hum. Still a good snog's better than nothing and..and to make me feel even better I've also been getting signals from a customer at the gym over the past couple of weeks.

Fuck the gay muffia. I'm a bi-bi and proud of it.

Love from a beautiful, intelligent bi.

Birthday zut alors!

Two French couples, in stylish T-shirts and shorts, are standing staring on the edge of the nude beach. They've obviously been taking in the sights of Brighton and now they're confronted by another sight - me, like a sweaty starfish, legs akimbo as I catch an all-over tan.

Do I slam my thighs together like a vapid virgin? Never, I spread them wider, giving my audience an even better view of one of Brighton's lesser known lanes - take that you cheese-eating, voyeur monkeys!

It was packed on the beach. I expect, like me, most people thought such stunning days were going to get rarer. As usual, the sun-lovers were predominately gay males. Why-oh-why I wonder, did so many of the hunkier homos keep their Speedos on whilst so many of the elderly ones unfortunately didn't? I'm not a cock expert but I've seen more attractive things pickled in jars.

There were a few women, several on their own and some in couples - I was there with a friend. Most were cool and relaxed and enjoying the feeling of sun and air on your body but some displayed some bizarre Brit prudishness. They went to extraordinary lengths to maintain cunny concealment. One had a scarf artfully tied around the naughty area. Another woman had a thin strand of her thong carefully positioned between her thighs. Another sunbathed naked but immediately slipped her knickers on to take a walk. Two young girls with great bodies settled down near us. One looked Brazilian or something and cheerfully stripped off completely but the other kept her pants on. Why did all these women worry when their bits wouldn't bother at least 99% of the beach.

However the last girl's pants had 'Make me purr' written across them so I could forgive her anything. So ends the Brighton Nudes Update.

Love and no white bits. Sadie

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Whooops! My friend Ms Rude read yesterday's post and wasn't sure it was very flattering about her - she doesn't know whether to sulk or sue! Oh dear, I better make amends, so here goes: Actually Rudy is a witty, erudite, elegant chanteuse whose unmistakeable fashion sense, sparkling eyes, pert nipples, firm, toned buttocks and luscious pouting lips (all of them) are the envy of Brighton's cliterati. Is that ok, rude girl? Fine I'm off to the beach.

Sadie's back.

Hey, I'm blogging again and after the rain pissing down for weeks it's a beautiful sunny day in Brighton. I was really tempted to get on down to the nude beach, stretch out and catch Summer's dying rays. But, on second thoughts, I decided that the coastal sun can be deceptive and I didn't want sea breezes flapping my curtains.

So I joined my friend Ms Rude for lunch at Boardwalk. She not only picked up the bill (flogging paintings pays) but she also almost picked up the waitress. But that's Ms Rude, I'm not telling secrets because she admits to anyone that she's horny. In fact, that's underselling herself, actually she's hornier than a hornet's horn section playing the hornpipe in Hornchurch.

When people ask "what do lesbians actually do?" they should address this to Lady Rude. Then, if they've got an hour or two to spare, she could catalogue what she's actually done and who she did it too. Some day soon I must share a few of these insights into female behavioural patterns in my blog. However I will have be careful as I don't want Blogger prosecuted under USA obscenity laws!!

As the sancerre flowed so did our laughter. Rudy is also one of the funniest women I know. We get on so well that people assume we're lovers. But then most straight people, particularly the ones who wonder what we get up to, assume that gay people go at it like randy rabbits whenever we get the chance.

I blame gay blokes. I know most live discreet ordinary lives (apart from the fisting and nipple clamps!!) but they're not the ones on the gay dating sites, in clubs, or in the mags that personify gayness as one long search for a surreptitious shag. You get the impression that on meeting someone for the first time they shake each other's cock rather than hand.

As for us lezzy ladies, well we're pretty normal too. Ms Rude and I are definitely friends not lovers, in spite of getting pissed together, dancing together and, of course, her seeing me stark naked countless times...ah yes, that'll be the reason then!

Love & cellulite Sadie

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I've been locked out of my blog since Thursday and people tell me they haven't been able to access my site. I bet this doesn't happen to bleeding Belle De Jour!!!! Imagine all the three-in-a-bed lesbian sex romps you've missed. Imagine the disappointment all my hundreds of fans will feel - not! However, now it seems ok so I'm going to post this, see what happens and have a drink with my friend Ms Rude. Then later I'll slip on my silk pyjamas and compose a few bon-mots.

Love & kissy kissy Sadie