Tag Archives: Jockey

Maxie’s Back In London… Equilibrium Is Restored

Posted on December 18, 2010 | Leave a comment

Calloo callay, Maxie’s back in Londinium. After a long day of Christmas shopping (during which I found a gift so truly made for the woman that I have no doubt you will find out what it is in her own blog once she opens it) we met at the Tree and polished off several glasses of the red stuff, before heading to the theatre.

We had half a bottle left – so Maxie expertly hid this in her bag and managed to sneak it into the theatre. Epic fail Duchess staff! Wouldn’t have managed that in my day!

Love Story: Lovely songs and pretty people and whatnot, but essentially the story is, boy meets girl, they fall in love, she gives up her life long dream while he gets to keep his, and then she dies.

Inspiring.

Anyhoo, if you’ve read Maxie’s blog today, you will know that we discussed the photographic exploits of the Jockey and his shortcomings in great detail.

I stumbled home at midnight – in the SNOW by the way, what an inconvenience – and sure enough, the snap happy one began his late night textathon again.

Jockey: ‘Did you get bored of our game the other night, or did you just not like my cock?’

I owe my witty response to Maxie in every way, and give credit here to her words of wisdom when examining the evidence earlier that evening.

Ritzi: ‘I believe I sent the last message, thank you very much. And that was not cock, that was pubic hair and half a ball. Come on.’

Jockey: ‘What! There was a full blown one!’ *insert dirty joke here*

Ritzi: ‘Must have slipped my mind…’

Jockey: ‘I hope I didn’t send it to the wrong person!’

Ritzi: ‘How close am I to ‘mum’ in your phone book?’

And then I received the latest photo in his long line of headshots. A photo which I may send to Maxie, should she want a giggle. A photo which I’m sure he thought made him look all manly and hairy and erect, but due to the unfortunate placing of his hand holding the phone so very close to the bathroom mirror, made his cock look pretty much in proportion to his pinky.

Poor foolish Jockey. So lacking in camera skills.

There is a shed load of snow in the world today. I am supposed to be going for a Christmas dinner at the Maestro’s house this evening. I’m supposed to get there at 7.30, maybe I should leave now…

Rest assured, the Jockey’s cock shot will be passed around post dinner, if the bottle of Rioja I’m taking along with me has anything to do with it. I’m sure he’d do the same.

Jolly good job I’m not stupid enough to send anyone a picture of my lady place, isn’t it?

RitziCx

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Inappropriate Facebook Messaging Works… Apparently!

Posted on December 15, 2010 | Leave a comment

Remember the day Maxie came back to London for a flying visit and used her baaaaad influence to make me do THIS?

Turns out… said influence was not so bad after all.

So, it’s mid afternoon, I’m sitting at my desk and all of a sudden I hear the faint ‘pop’ of a facebook im. I investigate, and it’s The Jockey.

You remember – the one I sent a supremely inappropriate message to, requesting sex, mere days after meeting him. The one who subsequently ignored said message, after which I seriously considered joining Maxie in France.

Turns out, at the time of said message, his ‘ex’ (no gender given, am still not convinced this guy doesn’t like to dabble) was still living with him and things were ‘awkward’. Apparently things are not so awkward any more, since his next line was;

“So, I’d definitely like to fuck you sometime.”

Straight to the point, that’s what we like!

What follows is a series of rather interesting messages, which get a little too x-rated for the office computer, so I send him my number and a few seconds later he says…

“I hope that was the right number…”

Oh yes, naughty photos. Naughty photos in the middle of the day. To which he demands one in return.

Can I really get away with nipping to the loo and sending him a photo? With a conference call in ten minutes and the impending doom of deadlines?

Answer: of course I can. He DARED me, after all. Ritzi Cortez does not turn down a dare.

The texting has continued thoughout the day and into the evening, and I must say, the last one certainly contained a trace of cock. Merry flipping Christmas! I am now positively DESPERATE to shag this fellow, but try as I may, I just can’t seem to rearrange my pre-Christmas schedule enough to squeeze him in (no jokes please).

Ah well, whatever the resolutions, looks like 2011′s going to start with a bang.

RitziCx

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Fancy A Fuck?

Posted on November 23, 2010 | Leave a comment

“I have to say, I can’t quite work you out. You run hot and cold. So I’m just gonna lay it on the line…

Fancy a fuck? I mean, if you’re willing…

Ritzi.

Ps Unless of course you’re gay – in which case ignore me.”

BLAME MAXIE G! MAXIE G AND RIOJA! MAXIE G, RIOJA AND ICECREAM! MAXIE G, RIOJA, ICECREAM AND JUDY FRICKIN GARLAND!

So, turns out Maxie is back in Engerland for a few hours (hello First, btw, you dirty baaaaastard) and of course we managed to sneak in some wine and some culture. I dragged Maxie to see ‘End of the Rainbow’, which is bloody fabulous by the way, but not before we’d necked a bottle of the Lemon Tree’s finest throughout the half.

I tell Maxie about Dead Famous. I haven’t even told you rowdy lot about Dead Famous.

(nb, Dead Famous is not a dead version of Almost Famous. If only, my friends, if only)

Dead Famous is the West End’s most amazingly awesome Hallowe’en partay where you have to dress up as – no prizes for guessing – a dead famous person. I love Hallowe’en, always have, and have gone to this party every year since I was a mere ticket tearing minion. Now, I am so fabulous that I booked the Friday off, specifically for the purpose of getting hammered.

At Dead Famous, I met a (straight) chap who shall herein be referred to as ‘The Jockey’. The Jockey is hot, straight, works in theatre but not an actor.

The following Saturday, I toddled off to a Harry Potter party (as one does) and when I posted a pic of myself in my naughty Slytherin school girl costume, quoting god on high John Hughes in my caption; ‘being bad feels pretty good, don’t it?’(oh come on, you didn’t expect anything less of me, did you?) I got a private message on the old book of face reading;

“I want to be bad. I want to see you out of your costume ;) ”

Intriguing, no?

So I message back something equally flirtatious, wait patiently, and then… days of nothing.

A week later, I go to see the show that he works on. We’ll pretend I remembered this fact, when actually I completely forgot. That’s how showbiz I am these days, apparently. Anyway, after that I get;

“You were at *insert theatre here* tonight and you didn’t tell me?!”

Well Jockey… you didn’t shag me. So all bets are off, right?

Casual flirting. Instant messages. Fizzling out again.

Now, this is getting annoying, because at the end of the day I do actually fancy this guy and could envision quite a nice evening of sexual activities, so it’s driving me a little bit nuts that he isn’t hunting me down to shag my brains out.

That and the fact that I haven’t gotten laid since July. Four months in the year of promiscuity… but who’s counting?!?!

And that brings us back to the present. Me, Maxie, some wine, and Tracie Bennett’s tragically brilliant Judy Garland, and by the interval it seems like a really good idea to send the above message.

Three hours on… no reply. Maxie has advised 24 hours before deleting the contact and never speaking of it again.

Come the fuck on, Jockey.

Signing off with a drunken stumble,

RitziCx

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