I've been a good little worker bee in my boy cage. It isn't a horrible job. In fact I like the problem solving nature of it. I'm in a safe place and I'm starting to see who I can trust and who I can't. I'm also beginning to give hints to the potential allies and a yummy boy.
When it rains it pours. A freelance writing job fell in my lap, a radio show for a particularly famous and gorgeous black musician and businessman. Then another one prompted for a radio show. So I'm bringing in pretty decent cash on the side, all going into my corporation for my lady fabulous documentary.
It is really hard when you're in the sadness to see how things will improve. I couldn't have called this, but things are beginning to improve.
I've got an old lady car now, comfy Buick. Its getting me around and my social is improving. Just in time since my friend has been diagnosed with lymphoma. This is my black bff who was the first person I told and the first person to give me pretty little sissy orgasms through my boipussy. I don't know what to do... I feel like all I can offer is sex sometimes, and that doesn't help here.