I wrote this a month ago. But I couldn’t publish it then.
Never mind. Just read it. Then you’ll know.
Well… I saw him again for his big birthday party. Mister M. The party left me at first with feelings of excitement, desire and something I didn’t recognise at the time. It wasn’t the party, obviously, it was what happened at the party. Or at the after party.
I’ll interject here that I don’t know if Wonderboy reads this blog or not anymore. I’ll probably find out since this is something I haven’t told him and I’m not planning to.
Since the formalities are now out of the way, I guess I’ll just come out and say it. We have this amazingly strong pull with mister M. And although his wife, his beautiful, wonderfully intelligent and nice wife, was there too it made no difference. I actually thought I had survived. It was I think one am, when I said goodbye to lady Fiona, as I’ll call her here, and tracked down the partying mister M from the bar. We had hugged inaproppriately long when I arrived and I had lathered his face with face oil at one point (to make him pretty – I swear!) but other than that it had all been in good humour. Until I went to him and touched his shoulder on the ever so crowded wooden bar. He turned to me and kissed me passionately but quickly and then turned to purchase his drink. I went speechless.
You kinda made me speechless, I confessed.
Yeah, me too, he said and turned to face me.
I was just coming to tell you that I’m gonna go. To the hotel, I said after a long silence between the dancing and drink ordering party crowd – most his friends and aqcuintances I didn’t know.
Really? he looked at me with alarm. Just wait a sec and we’ll come with you. I just have to check on lady Fi first, he said.
And I stayed. I helped with gifts and waited for the taxi. I went to their home and ate an omelette made by lady Fi. We drank gift champange and talked. Some more people came, one of them an organizer of BDSM events, who was unfunnily enough the most prejudicial about fantasies and activities of the whole bunch. He called me crazy (as any other woman ho has them) when I talked about incest fantasies and also remarked that wanting to be strangled or strangling someone was crazy too.
Anyway, what happened was that after we’d drank and stayed up until the morning light, he came to put me to bed on their study floor on a mattress. And then I put his hand on my neck. And I said, strangle me.
And he did. And I came.
We had talked about, how we were allowed to play with other people. We had said it would be alright. If there’s no sex. And there was no sex.