After the fact

At 4 the guy calls. It takes skill and patience to lead these horses to water. “Are you into leather?” he asks “Wearing leather?” I clarify. “Yeah!” “Well not exactly, I don’t have any but I have a PVC dress.” Is he into the dominatrix image or the material, I wonder. “Do you have any thigh high boots?” “ No, but I have thigh high stockings.” I probably need to invest in a pair of high leather boots. They are expensive. The PVC dress was $80. I don’t understand why the material matters. I detect a NY accent but his caller i.d. puts him in Minnesota. He schedules for between 5-5:30 and I leave my house at 4:30 to make sure I will be ready. I haven’t given him my address yet, so when I don’t hear from him by 5, I figure he is fucking with me. I leave a message on his voicemail letting him know I do not expect him. I am usually polite in my first call. I am extending the benefit of the doubt. My trip is not a complete loss. I do laundry, clean the floors and make the place ready in case I get busy tomorrow. I take my dog for her 2 out of 3 walks for the day amid the sound of a repetitive car or house alarm which is so loud I missed hearing my phone ring when the client called. I check VM and listen to his excuse that he was hung up in a meeting. Male corporate jobs sound as unpredictable as mine. He still wants to come over. I call him back and I give him my address. “Am I going to have fun?” he asks obnoxiously. “I believe so.” is my best version of a positive and true response. I feed my dog her dinner so she is sated and get dressed in my PVC and fishnet thigh highs. He arrives and I tower over him. I can tell by the look on his face that he is smitten. I prefer just to be my normal self, but when the occasion calls for persona, I can assume it. I lead him to my liar, offer him wine and sit him down so I can find out who and what I am doing. “I’m very submissive and very kinky.” he begins... This means nothing to me. A person’s definition of submissive and kinky is unique to them. I tell him I find this too vague and I ask definitive questions. He is of the genre, “I want to be Yours.” This does not fit me like a glove, but I understand and appreciate the role I should play to fulfill him. Isn’t it almost like a koan. It will totally please him if I direct him to totally please me but it would not really please him if I was truly honest in what would please me so I have to imagine how he would enjoy pleasing me and tell him that I am pleased by that so he can be pleased. reciprocity? mutuality? I don’t know the name for it but I recognize it. This is the definition of mental gymnastics!

He thinks I am gorgeous. He thinks I am magical. Every time I squeeze his nipples, tickle the insides of his thighs, it sends him into moans of pleasure. He repeats my name alternating it with God. I am both. I am his master, his ruler. He is mine, he loves me, He pledges his allegiance forever (while his cock is hard) I praise his obedience (prompted by his question, “Am I obedient?” He apologizes when his cock is not hard enough to fuck me. I waver here wondering if I should berate him for that (as part of the role) or accept and assure him that he is ok without that part of his anatomy behaving as prescribed. My true and accepting self wins out, unless he had told me he enjoyed verbal humiliation. After I fuck his ass and tantalize his most sensitive parts for an hour he is effusive in his praise for me. He asks if I am married. I hold my fist to his cheek to threaten him reminding him we are not in reality now and we’ll talk later. He tells me he loves me and in a sudden second of self consciousness says, “You must think I’m crazy.” But I don’t. I recognize this subset of male sexuality needing to be taken, to be consumed and to give up his will to a woman’s power. He is begging me to let him come. I say he can’t. I really want to turn around and check the clock to see if I should let him, but I worry it would be too obvious. To assert and prove my dominance over him, I say he cannot come. He writhes and moans, but not too much cause I have him handcuffed to the table. Shortly later I bring him to the brink again and make him promise that if I let him come, he will spill on my breast and then lick it off and taste it. Of course he swears he will obey me and doesn’t at the moment of truth,turning his face away to avoid my cum soaked nipple.

I clean him up and we are now 2 normal people, talking about our lives, our past lives. He was a junkie. Now he is sober. I admire that breadth of experience. He regrets wasting so much time. He is, by all outward appearances, a successful businessman. He is married. He shows me some pictures on his phone of a recent trip and his grandson. We goes to his next obligation and me to mine. Two ships passing in the night but touching at the helms.