Dear Friends, We at the CONvent beg your indulgence for this excerpt.

We realize that it is long. In fact, it is one of the longest entries

in "Connie's" diaries, but it does chronicle one of the most important

events of her life; her re-meeting with her future primary husband,

J.R. "Bob" Dobbs. Here in its entirety is the blessed event:



Nov. 9th 1940 Dear Diary,

I haven't written for a while. I've been trying to come to terms

with what is happening around me. Let me start from the beginning as

best I can remember. I met a man named Philo Drummond at a party in a

rather rough neighborhood. Suffice it to say that Mr. Drummond rescued

me from the unwelcome attentions of several non-gentlemen and after I

showed him privately how grateful I was, we began dating. Unbeknownst

to me, he was also carrying on a long distance (and sometimes in

person) romance with Juicy. It seems as though Philo was the friend of

a friend of one of Jesus Retardo's drug sources. Juicy had gone along

with her then date, Tricky to pick up his brother, Jesus at some

fellow's house, and met Philo in the process.

I couldn't blame her for falling under his spell, he is a magnificent

specimen of a man. I've never seen a penis with such...personality.

So, I continued dating him, not knowing that I was being mentally

compared to my childhood friend, almost a sister. I wonder how we

must have compared in his mind, Juicy the passionate

redhead with her muscular body and pendulous breasts. She must have

seemed, a richness of curves. I, on the other hand, am slender and

willowy. My breasts barely fill a man's hands, and my bush is pale;

almost platinum. This fragile appearance belies my passion, though.

I discovered his secret quite by accident. It was rainy night last

night, cold, with a biting wind that tore at clothing and frosted

appendages. I was in a frenzy for Philo. I wasn't thinking about the

weather, only about his clever penis and hot quick hands. I took a

long lazy bath, teasing myself in anticipation, hovering at

the edge of climax, then backing down. The steam and the scent of the

herbs in the water made me drowsy and relaxed. I was balanced on the

edge of ecstacy and sleep. The sound of a door slamming down the hall

broke my reverie and I regretfully left the tub.

I remember that the rough towel felt good on my skin, and I rubbed

myself to a pink glow, then wrapped it around my head like a turban. I

went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of black stockings and a

garter belt. After putting them on, I went to the closet and found my

little fur lined shoes and grandmother's mink. She was a tall woman

and the coat's hem hit me below the calves. I had a little mink beret

that Father brought back from Paris as a gift, and I stuffed my still

damp hair into it and arranged it properly on my head. Still warm and

glowing, almost overhot from the furs, I left my room and ventured out

into the night.

Need makes madmen of us all, and I am no exception. In my sexual

frenzy I never stopped to think about the weather. It was over half a

mile to Philo's place and I was on foot in little high heels, albeit

fur-lined. The wind danced up grandmother's coat, chilling my pussy,

and slithering up my back. I pulled it closer repeatedly but the wind

was like a dog smelling a bitch in heat. It tore at my coat and hat. I

was forced to pin the hat to my head with one hand, while the wind

exposed me to the rain and its frosty embrace. My nipples were like

rose quartz crystals, and my bush was rimed with frost. I felt myself

growing faint. The pavement seemed to rush toward my face.

Suddenly there was a hand around my waist, pulling me vertical, then

another between my breasts assisting. I could smell pipe smoke, and

hear his breathing. He closed my coat without touching me further,

and I turned around. I don't know what I expected, some tweed-jacketed

professorial type, or a soldier, those were the usual pipe smokers I'd

run into. I didn't expect this tall handsome man with the huge grin.

It confused me, his grin. It was both lascivious, and innocent, greedy

and generous. It was as though he was seeing both me, Connie, I mean

right into my soul, and at the same time, seeing me as all women. I

stood transfixed, the temperature forgotten.

With what seemed like infinite slowness, he slipped his hands inside

the fur, pulling me close and burying his face in my neck. He breathed

in the scent of the fur and my skin like an animal sniffing its food.

I felt possessed, owned. It was both frightening and erotic. I stopped

thinking and just gave in to the pleasure of his hands. I noticed

that the wind had suddenly stopped, and the patter of the rain was

lessening. He slipped the fur from my arms and lay it on the wet grass

beside the sidewalk. His hands were all over me, in intricate

patterns of heat. Somehow, the pipe disappeared into his pocket, and

he began kissing me. The heat of his hands was nothing like the fire

of his tongue. I was probably moaning in both delight and need. I

don't remember everything. In some ways his fire threatens to scorch

me even in memory. He lowered me to the waiting fur and covered me

with his entire body. I orgasmed twice before he even got his penis

in me. He just kept grinning at me. Diary, the earth didn't move, it

did a mambo. I didn't see stars, I saw constellations and the birth of

Universes. I didn't just come, I arrived with a full set of Italian

luggage on an elephant with gaily colored porters in tow.

When I'd caught my breath, for the tenth and final time (that night),

he stood up, and brushed the stray leaves and grass of his trousers

(which were remarkably dry and unwrinkled), then handed me his

business card. It said "J. R. "Bob" Dobbs, Salesman" and his phone


"I'll call you," he said, and somehow, I knew he meant it.

"Don't you need my number?" I asked.

The pipe appeared from his pocket and all but inserted itself into his

mouth, "Don't you worry, Miss Marsh, I've GOT your number." The

frightening thing is, Diary, I don't think he was talking about my


He picked my coat up off the ground and shook it hard, then handed it

to me. It seemed none the worse for wear. In fact, it seemed as warm

and dry as when I'd put it on, however many hours earlier. Then he

was gone. I didn't hear or see him walk off, but I turned to slip into

the coat and he'd vanished like a ghost.

Philo's place was just a few blocks away and I made it there without

further incident. He was working on some science project or other and

seemed distracted. He didn't even notice that I was without stockings

(they were irretrievable), or that my hair was a total rat's nest. He

motioned for me to sit down on the bed. I did. Something sharp poked

me through the coat. I reached beneath me and pulled out a broach. It

was beautiful, Florentined gold set with half a dozen little rubies

and another half dozen tiny diamonds in a swirling pattern. I knew

this broach. It was mine. The only problem was that I didn't have

that broach at school with me that semester. I'd lent it to Juicy just

before coming back to school. That meant, that Juicy had

been with Philo. All thoughts of the strange be-piped man disappeared

from my brain. I realized that they both had been lying to

best friend, and my boyfriend. I bolted upright from the bed and tore

open the front of the coat, exposing my naked form. Philo stopped

fiddling with his project and stared at me.

"What's wrong with THIS!" I demanded furiously.

", nothing as far as I can tell," he stammered as his hand

involuntarily reached out for me.

I stepped back to avoid his reach and fell onto the bed, my legs

flying up in the air and providing

him an uninterupted view of my purse. His eyes softened and he smiled

at me.

"Oh no you don't, Mister!" I warned, scrambling to the head of the

bed, and closing my legs.

"Whatsamatta, Connie? You know you like it..." he slipped off my shoe,

then began licking my


I shivvered, but resisted, "Does Juicy like that too?" I asked.

He looked up at me apprehensively. "What do you mean?"

I pulled my foot from his grasp. "I mean, does my best friend Juicy

enjoy having you lick her foot

just before you fuck her?"

He looked at me a little abashed but certainly not as guiltily as I

would have liked. "Well, yeah, she

likes it. Don't you?"

I tore my beret off and slapped him on the head with it a few times.

It did no damage, but I felt better. When I'd gotten that tiny

release, I smiled at him and sweetly asked for a dollar. He handed it

over without asking why. My head was swimming and I'd had enough for

one evening, so I simply picked up my shoe and coat and left the room

without another word. I called a cab and paid for it with Philo's



humbly submitted

Tarla(Is Nin spinning?)Star



Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually

Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.

Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.