Libby's Journal - September

September 3

When Andrea and Dana had their house built, Andrea installed a bunch of exercise equipment in their basement -- which Mona helped pay for because she knew she would be using it too. So for the past few months she has gone over there two or three times a week and both of them are looking pretty buff.

Usually I tag along and maybe exercise a little, but I spend most of the time hanging out with Dana in their pool. Eventually, Andrea and Mona will come out and peel off their spandex workout clothes under the outdoor shower and join us in the pool for a bit.

Then we will get out of the water and, depending on the time of day, either hang out on the deck in the sun having drinks as the sun dries our skin, or else head straight to the kitchen to get started with dinner. The others will dry off with towels, but I enjoy being drippy wet when the air conditioning hits me, giving me goosebumps and puckered nipples.

Dana will make a big salad or saute vegetables in a wok while Andrea throws slabs of meat on the outdoor grill. I am vegetarian and Dana is leaning in that direction, but Mona and Andrea are unrepentant carnivores who tell competing stories of expensive nearly-raw steaks they have consumed at famous steakhouses across the country -- and these stories tend to involve tonal inflections usually reserved for sexual activity.

After dinner, there will be some combination of dancing, drinking and sometimes a bit of something else. If it is still warm out we might jump back in the pool, but on cooler evening we have the option of getting in their hot tub

Sometimes Jayne and Margot will be there too, but neither of them is big on exercise so they usually skip that part and come for the dinner and drinking part. Mickey and Raygan are the opposite because when they come, it is mainly for the workout and they generally leave shortly after dinner.

Mickey will lift weights with Mona and Andrea, while Raygan likes to run on the treadmill. She's badass on it too, running flat out until she gets quite sweaty. As I have previously admitted, I have a bit of a fetish for hot girl sweat. Nowadays, that's usually Mona -- I love hugging her when she has been playing basketball in the hot sun -- but I remember having that reaction back in high school, when I was not yet thinking of myself as gay. I played soccer for a while (at my therapist's suggestion), and I wasn't great at it so I was mostly on the bench. When the game was over, the starters would run off the field and go down the line hugging everyone. It was my favorite part of the game.

So that first time that Mickey and Raygan joined us, we happened to start out in the pool so all of us were still nude as we worked out. Now, I must emphasize here that Raygan is super-hot. Not precisely my type because I prefer my girls to be more muscular -- like Mickey, actually, whose physique checks all of my boxes -- but I was also drawn to Raygan's Cheerleader Prom Queen ultra-hotness. It just radiates from her, like in movies when the Geiger counter starts clicking when something is radioactive. That's how hot Raygan is.

After she jogged a bit, she cranked up the speed and was at a sprint, and soon her golden brown body was shiny with sweat. I was mesmerized. And then . . . and then I began to notice little droplets flinging from her pert blonde pony tail as it flipped left and right with her stride. I decided this was an opportunity I simply could not let slip by.

I walked over to her until I could feel droplets on my skin, and as an excuse for being there I asked her if she would like a bottle of water. She said no thanks because she was almost done, but then she said something about the great equipment and I said something back. As we had this little conversation, I was feeling a few drops, but the best spray action was a step or two behind her, and it would be weird for me to stand back there for no reason. Fortunately, there was a little table with stacked towels, so I busied myself rearranging them so I could get the best spray of droplets on my face and chest as I kept up my end of the conversation. Across the room I saw my lovely naked Mona, her muscles poofed out from lifting weights, and she was grinning back at me because she knew exactly what I was doing.

After a couple of minutes of this, the treadmill beeped and slowed to a walk and, sadly, the spraying stopped. I started to hand Raygan one of the towels I had just refolded three times, but just as she went to step off the treadmill, she stumbled and fell right into my arms, our faces suddenly in each other's necks. Her wet body was so slippery I had to squeeze her tight to keep her from falling through my grasp. When she had her footing we were still holding each other and we both laughed as I reluctantly let go of her. She took the towel from my hand and started wiping off, and I turned away -- headed straight for Mona. I looked down at myself, my breasts and stomach shiny with Raygan's sweat, and I could feel it on my face.

When I reached Mona we embraced, rubbing our naked bodies together and kissing as we secretly shared another girl's sweat. And not just any girl. This was Hot Girl Cheerleader Prom Queen sweat! Mona and I were instantly in the lets-have-sex-right-now mindset, and we started inching towards the bathroom when Dana called down the stairs that dinner was ready. We sighed in each other's ears and then went upstairs where we all had a lovely naked dinner as Mona and I fidgeted and exchanged flirty glances. After dinner, Mickey and Raygan prepared to leave, and while Mickey put her clothes on Raygan only gathered hers and left the house naked for their short drive home. The rest of us made more cocktails that we carried down to the hot tub in the cool of the evening. Mona and I sat across from each other, and under the bubbly water, she wormed her foot between my legs, and I let her.

In addition to her many other attributes, Mona has a very talented big toe.

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September 4

Since my last entry when I felt so energetic, I have in recent days been at the low end of my bipolar cycle and instead of just being depressed I have been anxious, mostly about our pregnancy effort, which is currently on hold and may stay that way. When we started this, I was naively optimistic that it would work the first or second time we did it, but we tried for six months and it didn't happen. Granted we only used a turkey baster and I assume those fancy-pants fertility doctors have more scientific methods these days. Mona suggested that months ago but I resisted, partly because I am (legitimately) wary of adding additional hormones to my brain's already unstable mixture. But I realize I was also romanticizing the intimate moments that the three of us have been sharing. I wanted it to happen THAT way, but by foolishly clinging to that I may have missed my opportunity with Jack.

Sometimes I am still optimistic that it will eventually work out -- heck, I'm only in my mid-20s -- but other times I have only dark thoughts. I worry that it will never be, or worse that I will get pregnant and lose the baby after having felt it move, and named it. I know someone who lost a baby at eight months -- strangled by the cord. She ended up having another child later, but even so that would be so devastating. I don't think I would survive such a thing, not mentally at least. I would be done for mentally. Just put me away and take away my shoestrings.

When I have dark thoughts I try to distract myself by going outside and walking on the beautiful earth, which I worship, and I pray to God to come and be with me, and sometimes it feels that She does. Other times, it feels like I am just fooling myself. When we first moved to this property, I was hiking the beautiful trails and praying about something that was worrying me, and immediately afterwards I looked up and Right There was a deer with a fawn, and they both looked back at me, unafraid, and for a long long long Moment we all three stood there not moving, staring at each other. And then they turned and walked away, still unafraid of me.

That was a pretty good story until I realized how common deer are out here. My dogs consider it their job to chase the deer out of my gardens (because otherwise they will eat everything down to the ground), and this year I planted giant marigolds and heather, which deer don't like.

Even so, I used to be able to make a spiritual connection out in nature, but lately I can't seem to do that.

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September 14

I haven't written in a bit because I was buzzing on full mania for almost a week. It was great, but I broke a wine glass and two clay pots. I rarely write when I am at the top because I can't sit still, and I don't write at the bottom because it is too much work. I write in between.

The other night I was pretty much at the top of the cycle and we were having our best friends over for dinner -- which was just pizza since I can't be trusted to cook a dinner at these times. They have all seen me like this before, and they help me ride it out by basically being my spotters as I dance crazily around the house -- letting me expend my energy as much as I need to while they just focus on keeping me from breaking stuff or falling down a flight of stairs.

This time, however, Mona tried to proactively slow me down before they were due to arrive by suggesting we decorate me with temporary tattoos -- her strategy being that I had to lay down on the bed while she did that. She had my favorites, which are little vines and flowers, which she began applying down where my pubic hair used to be, and then she branched out from there, using her tongue to wet the spot and then her lips to press it in place for 15 seconds before moving on to the next one. So that took a while and in between each she took a sip of wine to wet her whistle. I was giggly-fidgety, but she held me down and I managed to stay put for a dozen or so individual pieces of Mona's design. It was, of course, also very sexy for us both and after her wine glass was empty she decided to wet her whistle a different way and no more tattoos got applied. I had a quick orgasm, but Mona didn't want to stop and so I had another. I was still panting when we heard the door bang open downstairs and the voices of our friends. Mona's plan must have worked because I felt a notch or two less frenzied as I scampered downstairs to show off my tattoos.

In other art news, I have gotten about half done with that sunflower tile project I mentioned and am still tinkering with it but not at such a frenetic pace. Ya know, it's not really a good idea to handle broken ceramic tiles when you are manic. I almost had to get stitches.

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September 18

I did not sleep well last night, and this afternoon, I dozed off on the couch and had an odd dream. It was not one of my famous recurring dreams, but was quite vivid -- in part because in my dream I was still lying there on the couch where I'd fallen asleep.

But in the dream, Mona was with me, sitting at one end of the couch, and I was stretched out next to her with my head in her lap. This is a somewhat common position for us recently, whenever Dr. Mona decides I have been too revved up and need to sleep. She will set up her drink and something to read on the end table next to her, and she will stroke my hair while we talk about quiet little things. This works for me at times when ordinary, unstructured napping does not, because it is like having a yoga instructor coaching you to lie there without moving and relax all your muscles and keep your eyes closed and focus on your breathing and think nice thoughts. Often, when we do this, I fall asleep and she will sip her drink and read while I sleep, and she will sit there as long as she needs to. It's one of the 10 million reasons I love her so much.

This time, Mona was not actually there, but in my dream she was, and that familiar situation made it seem absolutely, convincingly real. I looked up at her, and she put her magazine aside and asked me if I had a good nap. I nodded, my heart filled with gratitude that she existed in this universe at all, but especially that she had chosen to spend her life with me. I wanted to tell her that but did not have the words.

As I lay there with my head in her lap, I was gradually becoming aware that something about our house seemed different. I turned my head to look towards the window, but it was not there. The entire wall was missing, as if we were in a giant dollhouse, and through that opening, I saw an audience watching us.

I sat up on the couch to look around, and it was like being in an episode of the Twilight Zone because the rooms of our house were just part of a set on stage. And I . . . I was only a character in a play!

One might think this would be a pretty devastating bit of news to learn about oneself, yet the me in the dream took it surprisingly well and was already looking at the bright side. For one thing, it meant that Mona and I would be together eternally within the play. And heck, I was naked on stage in front of hundreds of people watching me right there in person so, well, you know, it had that going for it.

As I was making this existential mental adjustment, Mona said something about what she'd read in her magazine, and the audience laughed. That was a good sign because if you are a character in a play, it's better to exist in a comedy than a tragedy. Amid the laughter, I noticed another sound -- a clackety-clack like an old-time manual typewriter. I looked towards the sound, which was coming from the side of the stage but behind the curtain and not in view of the audience. A woman sat at a desk typing while a man paced behind her. They looked like Molly and Jack but were actually someone else (the way it often happens in dreams).

A question came to my mind about what Mona had just told me, and as I asked her the question -- getting another laugh, which thrilled me -- I suddenly knew that the woman and man were writing the script that Mona and I were performing. And it made sense to me that it would work this way -- that I would know my line as the woman typed it.

That's about all I remember of the dream, and when I woke -- there on that same couch, alone in my four-walled house -- my first thought was, "Where did everybody go?" When my brain sorted things out and gave me the update that indeed I was a real person after all, I naturally tried to analyze the dream. At first, I decided it was some kind of theological dream, but one that suggests Free Will is an illusion and that everything we do and say has been preordained. I certainly would not want that to be true in real life, but in the dream, it felt comforting to know that someone else was in charge and all I had to do was say my lines -- and that if I simply did that, then I would be rewarded with a safe and happy life.

Actually, I don't think it was that metaphysical. I think the real reason I had that dream was that I've been having some anxiety lately over things that are happening, or not happening as the case may be, and I suppose my brain just wanted to take a break from reality and imagine a world in which I didn't have to make any decisions.

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September 22

It is officially Autumn now and for the past couple weeks the mornings have been cool, though it still has been warming up by noon. We are entering the time of year that separates the fair-weather naturist from us die-hard types. I am not "tough" about too many things, but The Amazing Nature Girl can handle a little cool weather.

I spent much of the morning making pesto, and I made two or three trips to the garden to cut basil, which I washed off in the kitchen sink and hung to dry on the clothesline. When the first batch was dry enough I took it inside and broke off all the leaves into my food processor. My thumbnails are still dark green from all the leaf-pinching. I love the smell of crushed basil! I had the radio station on to my favorite station and danced and sang along with the music while I worked. Even though it was still a bit cool outside, my skin was damp with a hint of sweat by mid-day because I was bouncing around so much. Sometimes (as you all know), I just have too much energy.

When I was all done, I decided to get in the pool for a bit. The air temperature was only in the low 60s, but I didn't mind. Pretty soon we will have to close up the pool for winter -- though you can actually still use it some. You just have to turn off all the pumps and filters and lower the water level until it is below the pipes. But until the water actually freezes, a crazy person might get in there any old time.

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September 30

Recently I met Leslie -- Jack's girlfriend -- at a charity event that we both attended. She is quite attractive and probably a great person, but I don't think we will be friends. I can't blame her for being a little wary of her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend with whom, until recently, he was trying to make a baby. That would be a challenge for anyone. It was pretty clear that she did not like me and basically wants me to go away. And I understand, and am willing to do that. I'm sad about it though because I am losing something I treasure, but I know Jack needs to move on from me and devote his attention to the woman he loves. I can't be that person for him, so I need to be mature enough to step back -- and naturally I can't write this without crying, but I cry pretty easily, especially lately it seems.

We took our shot at baby-making and it didn't happen. Now he is with someone, and I don't want to in any way be an obstruction in that relationship. I am still young and could try again with a different sperm donor. I can't imagine who else I would ask to do that, but there are anonymous donors of course. But for now, I have been thinking I need to just . . . give up.

And then last night we had a big storm. There were tornadoes not far from us, but in this area it was just really heavy rain and high winds. Sunday morning it was cold but sunny and I walked around the property inspecting my remaining plants for damage. and as i looked up the hill towards the little house that Jack had been working on, something looked different and I walked up there.

The treehouse tree had fallen in the wind. We call it the "treehouse tree" even tho there was no treehouse in it, but when Jack and I had talked about the baby thing and him living there on the property at least part of the time and being there to help raise our child, and we picked out that tree as the one that would be best for a treehouse someday.

But there it was toppled over and broken. I sat down on it and cried for a long time, shivering in the wind, and thinking about all the things that probably will never happen.