Month: December 2015

Incognito

Birds of a feather flock together…

Great minds think alike…

Two peas in a pod…

Two of a kind…

And I am sure there are dozens more cliches out there to explain why we pair off or group ourselves with like-minded people.  Maybe it’s a shared interest.  A shared belief.  A lifestyle.  A religion.  Whatever it is, we tend to surround ourselves with people who are similar to us.

But what if your true self…who you are at your core…is shrouded?  Hidden.  Neatly tucked behind the corners of your enigmatic smile and charming personality (not that you are a maniacal serial killer or anything) and it’s something that those in your circle know nothing of?  Does that mean you are living a lie, or is it self-preservation?  Is it being a private person?  Does anyone really need to know your private self?

Does the universe find a way of revealing you to those who can see and understand the real you?

Here’s my point…

No matter where I go…I find that there’s always at least one in the crowd who sees me as I really am.  The whole person.  Not just the focused career-driven woman that takes charge and gets shit done…No, not only the sweet single mother who bakes cookies with her kids…No.  Not even the lady who will let you ahead of her in line, if you only have a few items.  NO.  Yet, there are a few who see all of that and still see the man (woman) behind the curtain.

I’ve come to a conclusion that it’s simply the law of attraction…that “like attracts like” and those who reveal us are also shrouded.  (Stay with me, I promise…I have a point).  I keep this other side of me, this obsidian side, with all of my trysts and licentious behavior, buried deep behind a lovely, but far from perfect, facade.  And yet still, a few can see me.  And in turn, I can see them.  It’s funny…it’s almost like there’s a label written in invisible ink across my forehead, that can only be deciphered by those with the same insignia.

This came to mind today at work.  I am working with a charming, take charge woman in her mid/late 40’s.  By all accounts, she is professional, smart, pretty and kind.  She knows her line of business and expects those around her to perform at their best.  She’s a strong leader.  Yet, I could see her label.  And I think she could see mine.

Like me, she prefers a submissive role in relationships.  She also has a string of past lovers that she entertains on occasion.  She has an free-spirited nature that spills into her private life and I suspect she is a bit wild and adventurous.  I have a sneaky feeling she’s in to role play and bondage.  To look at her, you would not see it.  But for those of us with a different perception, it’s obvious.

How is that?  is there some code word, or subliminal message in covert mental Morse code that alerts us to small nuances that we recognize within ourselves?  I don’t have the answer.  But this happens to me frequently.  The drill instructor I described a few posts back, was the first to name it as the law of attraction.  Within moments of meeting me, he could see exactly who I was.  He could sense exactly what I needed.  There was no judgment.  No agenda.  He just knew.  It’s a bit scary and comforting at the same time.  There’s an acceptance and camaraderie knowing that you are in like company.

Which brings me to…

You can run, but you can’t hide.  And as much as I strive to be incognito, there is always someone there who knows who I really am.

I think Anais Nin says it perfectly, “I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.”

women inside

The Very Close Call

Lee was one of my many high school boyfriends…you know, the ones I used as a facade, so that no one would catch on that I was having a very inappropriate, very mature relationship with a man twice my age.

We started seeing each other when I was fourteen and he was fifteen.  It was puppy love (from his perspective) and we were together every day.  His home-life was not the best and I think he enjoyed being around my family as much as he did me.  And don’t get me wrong…we did have our share of escapades.  Although he was older, I out-experienced him, but we learned a lot together.  In fact, with him I learned how to give head upside down, with my head hanging off the bed.  Not bad for a freshman.

We were on-again, off-again all through high school.  In college, we had a steamy affair (neither of us married, but both of us were seeing other people).  By that time, he had gained more experience and the sex was amazing.  I recall one tryst.  HE was living with his older brother.  It was mid-afternoon and his brother was scheduled to work until 7:00, but he came home early.  Lee and I had been at it for hours.  I was a sweaty mess.  My long dark hair was stuck to the sweat on my face.  I was wearing nothing but a t-shirt as I was perched on his cock, grinding my body into his.  We were listening to Whitesnake (yes, it was the early 90’s) and I was consumed with lust.  I noticed his brother walk in.  Our eyes met and I didn’t shy away.  I didn’t stop fucking Lee.  I lifted the sweaty t-shirt from my body and took it off as I maintained eye contact with his brother.  I used the shirt to wipe the sweat from my face and smiled devilishly at his brother, as I threw it in a heap of our clothes on the floor.  Lee then noticed and dismissed him from the room.  We finished soon after and that was the last time we were together until 2005.

We ran into each other at a Chamber of Commerce breakfast.  Both of us were networking our businesses.  We had lunch a few times. The chemistry, the connection was still there.  Our first “reunion” was at a local biking trail.  Lee is an avid cyclist and we rode our bikes to a secluded spot and picked up where we left off 14 years earlier.  We fucked outside, in broad daylight, as if we were the only people around.  I wondered if the other cyclists could hear us, but neither of us cared.

That was just the beginning.

We embarked on a journey of lust and debauchery that lasted an additional 8 years.  We couldn’t get enough of each other.  We went through phases.  We would see each other often and then we would be apart for several months.  It was the ebb and flow of our dynamic.  It worked for us.

One spring day in 2012, we reconnected.  I woke up that morning, hungry for Lee.  No one else would do.   Especially not the man I was married to at the time.  He was consumed with addictions and spent his days gambling and drinking, as he plowed through our life savings.  Our relationship was over, but neither of us had the initiative to start divorce proceedings.  All of that aside…on that day, all I wanted was Lee.

The hubs had two doctor’s appointments back to back.  He worked very hard at being unemployed, so it was rare that he was out of the house for any length of time.  I welcomed the break and knew how I wanted to spend the four hours he would be gone.  With Lee.  I called him and told him the situation.  He cleared his schedule and headed over to my house.

He parked in front of a house a few doors down.  It was for sale on the market and always had different cars out front, so it wouldn’t bring attention from any of the neighbors.  He walked through my front door at 1:00 and immediately afterwards, the doorbell rang.

My heart sank.  OH SHIT!!!!  Who is out there????

I opened the door, and there was a young man standing there from TruGreen (a landscaping service) looking to sell me a lawn maintenance plan.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.  I am Chris from TruGreen.  I was trying to catch up to your husband before he came in, but looks like he got in here before me.  Do you guys have a few minutes to talk about your lawn?”

OH SHIT!!!  My husband?  Oh…he thinks Lee is my husband.  Okay.  I can handle this.  But what if he comes back by and my actual husband answers the door?  So I reacted quickly and said, “Oh no.  That’s not my husband.  He’s a co-worker and we are late for a conference call.  Can you come back another time?”

Chris bought the story and excused himself to return at later time.  Soon afterwards my legs were behind my head as Lee fucked me relentlessly. About an hour into it, we almost lost track of time and finished our afternoon delight in a frenzied state of climax that made me shake all over.

We cleaned up, got dressed, fixed the bed, and as I was walking him to the door, I heard the garage door open.  HUBS WAS HOME!!!! Over two hours early.

Lee went into stealth mode, slipped out the front door and got to his car in record time, just as hubs was coming in from the garage.  Seems the last doctor’s appointment was rescheduled for another time.

We pulled it off.  Barely.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang.  Guess who was back?  Chris.  The eager-beaver salesman from TruGreen.  Hubs and I both arrived at the door at the same time.  Chris was all smiles.

“Hey there again.  Sorry for intruding on your conference call earlier.  Is now a better time?  Is this your husband? he chuckled.

I could have DIED!  I kept my composure and said, “This is my husband! I am glad you came back!  Come in.  Let’s talk about that plan.”

My husband didn’t even catch on.  He was too inebriated to notice anything.  And I felt like I’d dodged yet another bullet.

From that day forward, Lee and opted to see each other in neutral places.

And Chris sold me a great plan.  My lawn was perfect that Spring.

front door

“Real” Sex-Burning Love

Fall 1992.

I lived in off-campus apartments with 3 other roommates.  There was the exhibitionist bartender, Mary.  She walked about the apartment naked.  She rarely ate and had a different man in her life every week.  There was Jen, originally from Minnesota-‘don’t cha know’ who kept to herself.  And there was Maura.  She was from Jersey with jet black dyed hair and the attitude to match it.  And there was me…the straight-A student with a naughty side that overshadowed anything they were capable of doing.

Late that summer a new student moved across the hall from us.  His name was Levi (pronounced Levee, NOT Lee-vI).  He had just moved to the states from the Bahamas.  His skin was the color of honey.  Hair a sun-kissed blond.  And his eyes were a translucent hazel.  He had a strong British accent, with a twang from the islands.  He came from old money and drove a brand new white Jaguar.  He caused quite a stir among the girls at the apartment complex.  Dashing good looks.  Cool name.  Great accent.  Beautiful car.  Everyone was after him.  But he was aloof.  He paid them little attention.

One day we showed up at the apartment laundry center at the same time.  We talked as we washed our clothes.  He was quite smart and charming  I could certainly see why everyone was taken with him.  I found myself attracted to him, but wondered if he was “bad” enough for me.  We didn’t speak again for several days, when he approached me in the parking lot.

“Doing any laundry tonight?” he asked.

“Not tonight.  Think I’ll do it tomorrow.” I replied.

He grinned.  “Good.  Then you’re free this evening?”

I felt a flutter in my belly.  Was this price charming asking me out?  I decided to play it cool.

“That depends.  If you’re asking me to do your laundry, then no.  I am not free…I am quite expensive.”  I smirked.

I could tell he was impressed with my witty response.  He said, “No.  I wasn’t thinking of doing laundry…”

I decided to play along…so I asked.  “What were you planning on doing then, Levi?”

He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I was hoping to do YOU.”

Talk about direct and to the point.  Out there in the parking lot, he basically asked to shag me.  I loved it.  I do love a man with large balls…the balls to say what’s on his dirty, twisted mind  Maybe this pretty boy was bad enough for me.

I felt myself blush.  I struggled for a biting response, but I was so shocked by his brazen proposal, that I had nothing.  And before I could respond.  He said, “So it’s on then.  I’ll see you at 8:00.  My place.  The roommates are gone tonight.  It’s just you and me.  Oh…and wear those lacy black panties you were folding at the laundry the other day.  I’ve been thinking about them since I saw them.”

Now I really had nothing.  How do you even respond to that?

I managed to mutter, “Okay.  See you then.”  And we both went on our way.  I closed the door behind me and sighed….did that just really happen?  What the hell do I wear (besides the black, slutty panties?) He made me nervous.  Very nervous.  I was accustomed to being the most experienced.  The most confident. And here he was…outranking me.

To help cope with the tinge of anxiety, my bartender roomie, Mary, decided I needed a drink…just to take the edge off.  She made me some concoction that loosened me up as I got ready for my rendezvous across the hall.  I wore a sheer black shirt and cut off denim shorts.  I know…not date worthy, but we were staying in.  The shorts made my legs look fabulous.  My hair was fierce and I felt sexy as I knocked on his door.

I simply was not prepared for what I saw when he answered.  He was shirtless.  I was speechless.  He complimented me on my ensemble as he ushered me into the apartment.

“Have a seat.  What do you want to drink?’ he asked.

I had already had more than my limit, but before I could stop myself, I said, “Surprise me, Levi.”

I heard the cork pop and realized he had opened a bottle of champagne.  Oh crap…champagne?  Really?  Champagne had a very sexual affect on me.  I knew I’d be bent over his couch after two sips.

He brought out some glasses and poured us both a glass.  He toasted, “to laundry”

I don’t remember how we transitioned into the fuck fest we had.  He was very knowledgeable and aggressive.  He flipped, spread and rammed me as he pleased.  After he came several times, he said, “I need to recharge.  Dance for me while I stroke my cock.”

How sexy.  This man had some serious chops.  I loved the opportunity to dance for him.  We found some music on the stereo and he lit a couple of large pillar candles on the table.  He then gave me some instructions.

“The candlelight is so sexy.  I want you to take your time.  I want to see every inch of your body.  Spread those legs and let me see that glorious pussy that I am going to keep fucking.  Don’t stop dancing till I tell you.”

I was still a bit tipsy, as we finished off the bottle of champagne.  I started my “routine” on the floor.  Carefully choosing my moves.  I crawled to his feet, flipped to my back and opened my thighs for him to see.  I lifted my ass off the carpet and did a sexy grind for him as I touched my clit.  He loved it. I loved watching him watch me, while he stroked his hardening cock.

I rolled back over on all fours and crawled closer to him, allowing my breasts to spill onto his lap, grazing his cock.  He loved it.  Now the challenge was to get back on my feet, gracefully.  So I dipped down to shift my balance before standing and threw my ass in the air to keep it sexy.

Little did I know, the candle was close to the edge of the table.  My sexy sashay caused the flame from the candle to come in direct contact with my right ass cheek.

I was burned.  The flame scorched my exposed ass.  I was too shocked to mutter a sound.  I couldn’t believe it was happening.  But then the pain was too much.  I cried out.

He realized what had happened and immediately took me into the bathroom for a closer look.  It was a significant burn.  He made a decision.

“Get some clothes on.  I am driving you to the ER.  NOW.”

I quickly dressed, placing a homemade bandage on my burn, and got into his car.  He took me into the ER, helped me check in and left soon after they got me into a room.  He had class very early the next morning.

Can you even imagine my embarrassment?  How do you explain such things to an ER nurse?  There were questions like, “can you tell me what you were doing when it happened…followed by, did your clothes burn into your skin…followed by…so there were NO clothes that burned to your skin?  I finally just looked at the young RN and said, “look…I was doing a dance for my date and got too close to the candle.  I had been drinking champagne and my judgement was off.”  She smiled and said, “we see all kinds of things in here.  No worries…we will get you patched up.”  I managed to get some treatment and went home around 4:00 that morning.  Maura picked me up, in her bathrobe…with a towel on her head.  Seriously…no shame in her game.  Levi came over to check on me that morning before his 7:10 class.

“How are you, Joan of Arc?”  I was groggy from the champagne and pain medicine.  And I am sure I looked horrible.  But I managed to pull myself together.

“I’m okay.  Just sore.”

“I bet you are.  That was a nasty burn.  I am so sorry that happened to you.”  he said.  “Next time, we will make sure the candles are up a bit higher, because I want to see the rest of that dance.”  And he kissed me on the forehead and ventured on to class.

I was out of commission for a few days.  I made up a story about a more appropriate injury for my friends and family.  Only Maura and Levi knew the truth.  He moved to a house later that month.  Seems his parents bought him a nice 4-bedroom next to campus.  And I didn’t see him at school often.  He was more focused on living the dream, than attending class.  I heard he moved back to the islands sometime in 1993.

So, that was my stint with prince charming.  All in all it was a fun time.

I still have a small scar on my ass cheek.  It was always a topic of conversation with subsequent suitors.  I usually told them It was an injury from my childhood caused by getting too close to a space heater.  I did tell a few of them the truth…which was typically followed by, “i want a dance, too. ”

And I always obliged their request.

But with NO candles.

candle2