I’m sharing it because I sort of am in love with this new character I named Penny. Yes, I named her after my friend Penny. You all do realize an author reserves the right to write people, places, and events into their stories right? *wink* But, anyway, this is Fake!Penny. Totally fictional character named Penny, but is not Bad Penny. Just to clear up any confusion. And I hope Real!Penny doesn’t mind. LOL
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Copyright Genevieve Dewey, All Rights Reserved (subject to editing, etc):
A petite yet curvy woman came out of the office adjacent to the front desk with a huge welcoming smile on her face. She had shoulder length jet black hair pulled back with two sparkly barrettes that highlighted the shocking pink streak of hair over her right temple and the pearl choker she wore around her neck. She had on a black shiny leather skirt and a cashmere pink top that stretched across her well-endowed bosom. On her legs were knee high striped socks and black patent heels. She looked like a Fifties housewife fused with a Goth girl. It should have been too incongruous but the woman pulled it off somehow with an effortlessly sensual flare. Pinned to her sweater top was a name tag that read “Penny”.
“May I help you?” Penny asked in a Jessica Rabbit voice.
There was silence and Katelyn looked to her left waiting for Dom to speak. He always made reservations or ordered at supper; he never waited for her to take the lead. But Dominic was staring at the woman with a glazed expression. Katelyn stomped on his foot.
“Hey!” he looked over at her but she spared him only a brief annoyed glance.
“We’re looking for a couple that are staying here,” Katelyn began. “The man would have sandy brown hair about six foot tall, wearing a business suit and the woman – girl – would be oh about here,” Katelyn paused and put her hand up to her ear. Penny’s black eyebrows rose daintily. “And she would be wearing a completely ridiculously out of season dress.”
Penny nodded vaguely a few times then slightly tilted her head.
“Listen, I’d love to help you but I can’t give that sort of information out unless you’re law enforcement or something,” she ended the sentence looking at Dominic then slowly licked her lips and winked.
Dominic made some choking sounds and Katelyn gritted her teeth.
“No, we’re not law enforcement. He’s my brother-in-law and she’s…”
A husky infectious laugh startled Katelyn to a stop.
“I’m just messing with you,” Penny said. “I really can’t give you their room number or I’ll get fired but I could totally tell you they’re in the dining room over there.” She stopped and looked side to side then leaned forward over the counter, inadvertently giving them a full view of her cleavage. “And between you and me, I don’t really need this gig, it’s just something to pad the customer base, you know what I mean?”
Katelyn’s mouth dropped open.
“You mean… are you saying you’re… I mean… I’m not judging or…”
The infectious laugh rang out again, surprisingly loud from such a feminine and petite woman.
“No, no, don’t be silly! I’m a relationship counselor.”
Katelyn shared a look with still-silent Dominic.
“Like a marriage counselor?”
“Oh, honey, I don’t restrict myself to monogamous state-sanctioned relationships. Less clientele that way. There’s some seriously messed up people come to a hotel like this,” Penny continued. “I mean, there’s obviously vanilla folk like you—”
“I’m not vanilla! What does that even mean? Whatever it means I’m not it,” Dom finally interjected sounding offended.
Penny smiled and winked again.
“Sure, whatever. Don’t get me wrong, there’s all sorts of people come here, regular folk, experiential folks and weird folk. I’m not talking the normal kind of weird—”
“Isn’t that technically an oxymoron?” Katelyn interjected.
Penny blinked and smiled.
“I like you. You and the boyfriend ever need any helpful advice you just give me a ring,” Penny said with a deep chuckle and took a business card out of her bra.
Recently (ish) I was sort of metaphorically adopted by #Naughtyville. Actually, I followed Penelope Jones home one day on Twitter and she was all “Can I keep her, huh, huh, can I keep her?” And strangely (though, now it’s not strange at all, but at the time it seemed strange) all these really nice but naughty minded people adopted me as their resident vanilla cupcake. This is great because I generally have a fairly dirty mind myself. Alright, a very dirty mind. I just *write* less naughty than most of them on the scale of naughty to puritanical. Though, as my inbox would indicate, I am still a wee bit too spicy for some. Eh. I care not. And then there’s a few, though distinctly less, who were disappointed because I often hang out with the BDSM crowd on Twitter and there was that one time I wrote some erotica (not BDSM but there *might* have been a wee bit of kinky going on, ehem…) and then they read Bird Day Battalion and they’re like….oh, that’s just…romance with sex…
SO, too spicy for some, not spicy enough for others. Must be doing something right. Ha!
You may be wondering (as usual) what on earth am I rambling about?
Penny adopting random stray cupcakes got me to thinking. You ever notice how those groups who have to battle the most fiercely against stereotypes and unfair marginalization are often THE most welcoming people on the face of the planet?
I have.
It makes me sad to think of all the many different and truly fascinating groups of people I have met online over the years not just in the course of writing but being a regular visitor to websites about books, TV shows, sports, what have you, the ones that are a part of the most powerful, mainstream or elite groups can often (yes, I’m generalizing based on anecdotal experience) be the LEAST welcoming to new people and people who don’t share their Group Think. If you offer up the dissenting opinion or encourage others to critically examine their own kneejerk opinions you are dismissed, scoffed at, sometimes even drummed out.
Sadly, it has been one of the most consistent things I have observed and experienced in the cyberworld. The groups with the most numbers, or the most clout tend not to tolerate those that think differently than they do and the groups *most* used to experiencing that very sensation of censure, condemnation, or prejudice are often the best place to find refuge when you feel like an octagonal peg in a square world.
Ah, there are exceptions to the rule, I know.
Just like I am the exception to the #Naughtyville rule.
Joseph McNamara nominated me for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award and I can’t tell you how much that means to me. He’s a wonderful man (as far as I can tell having never met him) who is quite a passionate supporter of women’s rights. I love his blog because it is a very soulful prosaic exploration of the symbiotic relationship between a Dominant & submissive. I also might have mentioned before I enjoy the love filled poetry he and Gemini write for each other and their song fests on Twitter. My husband and I don’t write each other poetry but we do the songapaloozas from time to time so it brings a grin to my face to see another couple do it. Anyway, I’m babbling again (as usual), so, back to business:
I think the list of people I would nominate in return would have probably already done this award at least once (and or are really busy writing right now) so I am going to simply list the blogs I enjoy going to on a regular basis and IF they choose to share they may, if not that’s alright as well. 🙂
Here are Seven Things about me:
1. I live a very boring life which I enjoy immensely. Drama exhausts me. I like periodic doses of drama in a book, blog, or TV show. I do *not* like it in my life. I’m a very straight forward, bluntly honest person so I tend to avoid people that can’t handle that.
2. I did my masters thesis on the Cultural Implications of Pre-eclampsia (a condition of pregnancy) specifically with regard to women’s choices/experiences within the medical paradigm they chose.
3. I’ve been married before. We don’t stay in touch.
4. I deeply enjoy writing/telling stories. I deeply *hate* having to try and sell these stories. That’s not a whine, just a self-observation. 🙂 I think it comes from the above, I’m pretty much a You Get What You See person so when I write I’m thinking, “Hey, hope you like it, if not, that’s cool, too. Whatever.” This is probably not the best approach to salesmanship. LOL!
5. I love hanging out with people who use critical thinking, who don’t take my flirting and sarcasm seriously, who don’t look down upon people who have different lifestyles than their own, and who value and practice respect for other human beings at all times. I have ZERO, and I mean zero, tolerance for those who do not. This is when I tend to lose my objective cultural relativity and get all sharptongued and viciously critical. It’s not pretty.
6. I love doing those big giant jigsaw puzzles that you leave out on the table and do in punctuated spurts. Sadly, I can’t do that much anymore with three small children, and the Apps on my iPad aren’t the same.
7. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people assume things about me without asking. Ask. I would give you that same respect.
The Blogs I visit most often (and I just realized there’s definitely a theme here — how incredibly unobservant of me as an anthropologist! — it seems I like blogs with poetry, romance, and erotica):
A lovely poem by (I still can’t figure out why she’s called) Bad Penny:
Ok so I already received the Liebster from my friend Penny (Http://www.thepenelopejones.wordpress.com) which I answered here:
But the lovely Gemini nominated me as well so I am going to answer her questions without nominating 11 new blogs. (Cheating! Yes I know, the Devil’s getting thirsty waitin for me to care. ;P)
What is your guilty pleasure?
Mmnnnn, so many ways to answer this. Food wise, cheesecake. Activity wise, reading blogs, especially those with romantic and/or sensual poetry.
Who is your favorite author?
Jane Austen
What would be your perfect first date?
Some sort of group activity (like a museum or party) where I would feel like I had an escape route. LOL I’m serious, I hated dating. Haaaaated. It. Deeply. Takes me a long time to warm up to people. Once I do it’s hard to get me to shut up.
Sweet or savory?
Both! Chocolate covered pretzels, brownsugar covered bacon, french fries in a smoothie…
Where would you rather be right now in the world?
Chicago, IL.
What is your pet hate?
My what now? Thing I hate the most? Or a pet I hate? I sense a Yank-Brit confusion here. The thing I hate most in the world is intolerance/prejudice.
What are you most talented at?
Writing? I honestly don’t know. That’s the thing I get the most compliments for. That and my ability to get people to look at something from a different angle.
If you were a cocktail, what would you be called?
The Cupcake. I know, cheating! Again! LOL
What is your most treasured possession?
I was going to kneejerk say my children but they aren’t a possession they’re a gift, so I will go with letters/keepsakes from my ancestors.
What is your favorite movie?
Dang it that’s hard. I would say tie between the BBC version of Pride&Prejudice (which is cheating again I know since that’s more a mini-series) and The Godfather.
Have you ever taken anything that wasn’t yours and if so what?
Yes. Slippers. In my defense I honestly didn’t realize I hadn’t rung them up at Target. My husband laughed about it for days because I wouldn’t wear them.
If you’re over 18, please go visit Gemini’s blog! She writes such beautiful D/s poetry, sometimes soulful, sometimes sexy, sometimes both, and sometimes her Joseph writes a response (maybe I should have said following their love story is one of my guilty pleasures…)
From: Second of All, Copyright 2012 by Genevieve Dewey
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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“Dad?”
“Mmmn,” Mickey answered without taking his eyes from Mary. She was still fussing with Tommy’s hair while Tommy tried to dodge her fingers.
“Dad, can Carlo take me to go get an ice cream?”
Mickey looked down into Joey’s eyes, his young lips forming a pout and his body language all but screaming he didn’t want to be here. Mickey sighed. At least Joe had stopped running all over the Hotel lobby.
“We’re here so you can meet your brother for the first time. You can get an ice cream any other time.”
Joey sent a quick resentment filled look at Tommy who was teasing a furiously blushing Kiki about some boy-band she liked. Joey went over to a couch in the waiting area and flopped down, glaring at his dad. Mickey ignored it. After all, being a parent was about picking your battles and realizing you weren’t going to be their favorite person all the time.
“Well, I should get going,” Mary said to Tommy. “I’m sure your father can give you a ride home.”
Mickey’s gut clenched up, equal parts panic at her leaving and pleasure in hearing her not only refer to him as Tommy’s father but placing trust in him to bring Tommy home.
“No, you can stay, we don’t mind. Do we, children,” Mickey stated more than asked.
Tommy frowned and looked down at his sneakers again. Kiki was nodding her head up and down in affirmation. Joey shrugged and said nothing. Mary looked over and met Mickey’s eyes. Damn it all, why couldn’t he get her out of his head and heart already? What would it take? Mickey used to hope, no, delude himself that there was a chance with her, but now it was just up to him to stop loving her the way Mary had obviously stopped loving him. She smiled faintly and quickly then smoothed her slacks and turned back to Tommy.
“You don’t mind me leaving, do you, Tommy?”
Tommy shrugged, his hands back in his pockets and his previously relaxed stance replaced by the same cautious and guarded stance he had assumed in his kitchen the day before. Mary kissed him on the forehead then whispered something in his ear.
“It was nice meeting you, Mary. I hope we’ll meet again,” Kiki said softly.
Mickey’s heart squeezed a little at the longing he could detect in his princess’s voice. Maybe he had been wrong to keep her from her own mother but he hadn’t wanted Theresa to play any of her mind games with their children or to infect them with that poisonous way of thinking he himself had gotten caught up in. His children were going to have every option open to them, including and especially that good clean boring life he had always held in disdain.
Mary shook Kiki’s hand and waved at Joey, who smiled politely back. Then Mary glanced again towards Mickey. He wished he had a pause button for life that could freeze her right there. His gaze dropped to scan her body one last time and when they rose again to her face he could see her chin had jutted up and she had a challenging – but pleased! – glint in her eye.
Well, Mickey thought, his heart galloping, hope finally blossoms. He had made the first overt move the next would have to be hers. He had waited this long hadn’t he? Let the games begin. He smiled and raised his eyebrow. She colored and swiftly turned to exit the building.
“So,” Mickey cleared his throat when she had left. “Tommy, Joey was just wondering if we could go for some ice cream. Would you like that, sport?”
Mickey watched Tommy’s mouth purse and his eyes flash in annoyance at the endearment.
“Don’t call me that.”
Mickey was taken aback at the level of harshness in Tommy’s voice. He was here, at least. He was here, Mickey thought to himself. He let out what he hoped was a carefree laugh.
“Guess you’re too old for that nickname anymore, huh? Used to call you that back in Brooklyn—”
Mickey cut off as Tommy turned his back to him and faced Joe.
“What’d you have in mind, Joey?” Tommy asked.
Joey looked between Tommy and Mickey and narrowed his eyes at Tommy.
“You can call me Giovanni, since I guess you don’t like nicknames,” Joey answered with a bite to his tone. “I’m probably too old for them, too. I just turned nine, you know, last week. I thought about asking for a party at Coney Island, but it was important to my Dad that we came here for your graduation instead.”
Mickey looked at his youngest child, astonished at the level of venom in his voice and the maturity with which he spoke. Maybe Mickey had been spending a bit too much time in the office lately and Joey felt neglected. Joey hadn’t expressed any reservations about coming here before they had left and he had appeared to be enjoying himself just twenty minutes earlier. Where was all this anger coming from? Tommy turned sideways between them and looked uncertain. Then he shifted his feet and turned around some more to look at Kiki who smiled apologetically at him. Tommy stuffed his hands back in his pockets and looked at Mickey through the fringes of his hair.
“Ice cream sounds fine,” Tommy mumbled.
Mickey tried to smile encouragingly at both of his boys. He was worried it came out somewhat like a grimace.
“I – I like chocolate and caramel. What – what’s your favorite,” Kiki asked hesitantly then flushed beet red again. She came and stood next to Mickey, probably to accommodate Tommy’s viewpoint. She clasped her hands and smiled encouragingly as well. This sweet girl, Mickey thought. The picture of her mother and yet so completely opposite underneath.
Thank God.
“Vanilla with the works on top. And what’s your favorite flavor, little brovanni,” Tommy asked Joey then grinned at his own cheekiness.
Joey blinked and seemed to be struggling with the desire to smile. Petulance won out and he pointedly looked back at Mickey.
“Dad, afterwards can we go see Offutt Air Force Base?” Joey asked.
“Depends on the threat level for the day if they let visitors in,” Tommy interjected seemingly unperturbed by Joe’s rudeness. “But my Uncle Jack could probably get you in. He works for the FBI.”
Mickey had no doubt the last comment was meant as a jab at him but oddly, instead of feeling angry, he felt a little like chuckling. His boys were so much like him and yet such a blend of their mothers too. Mickey’s own prideful tenacity fused with Theresa’s combative loyalty in Joe and fused with Mary’s righteous willfulness in Tommy.
Joey’s gaze dropped from Mickey’s and slowly made its way to Tommy. For the first time, Joe looked intrigued.
“Ok, maybe,” Joe said with yet another shrug. “I’m going to be a pilot when I grow up.”
“I’m thinking of being a police officer or maybe even a Federal Agent like Uncle Jack. Something on the right side of the law,” Tommy said turning to look Mickey straight in the eye.
Mickey fought through the mixture of irritation and frustration at the intentional nature of the remark and instead focused again on the thought, at least he was here. Better yet, there was no fear in his boy’s eyes, nothing but challenge and determination. Mickey looked his oldest son in the eyes – his Great White Whale, so to speak – and smiled and nodded.
“If that’s what makes you happy,” Mickey said, and strangely… meant it.
“And – and maybe after we could go shopping,” Kiki shyly interjected, then rushed forward between all of them and stood in front of Tommy. “Daddy said I can’t wear the high heels I packed that mom gave me last birthday because I’m not old enough yet, even though I’m fourteen,” Kiki punctuated this babbling with a quick eye roll at her father. “So I need some new shoes to match my other outfits.”
Tommy frowned and raised one eyebrow. My boy, thought Mickey, about to burst his buttons in pride.
“Why do you need your shoes to match your outfit? Can’t you just wear some tennis shoes or something?”
Kiki put her fists on her hip and shook her head sadly at Tommy like she was worried for his mental capabilities. Mickey chuckled. Joe got up from the couch and sauntered over next to Kiki knocking her hand from her hip as was their ritual. Kiki made a grab for him and Tommy grinned at them both. Kiki returned his grin but Joe stared sullenly back. Again Tommy acted as if he didn’t notice.
“So, airplanes for Joe, and kicks for Kiki, and ice cream for all who scream ice cream,” Tommy said in a sing song, tugging on Kiki’s curls like he was milking a cow. She let out a giggle. Joey was ducking his head so Tommy wouldn’t see the smile he was trying not to smile.
“Just one thing first,” Mickey interjected and fished out his Blackberry. “Let me have a picture real quick before you get ice cream all over—”
“I’ll just wait outside,” Tommy mumbled and turned smartly and started quickly for the door.
“Wait, I think Daddy means…” Kiki trailed off as she chased him to the doors.
Joe put his hand in Mickey’s and looked up as if waiting for orders as to how to proceed. Mickey swallowed around the growing lump in his throat and said for the third time as if a charm,
“Well, at least he’s here…”
Genevieve Dewey 