Thursday, May 30, 2013


~ a rant ~

I am not a morning person. My Mom loves to tell the story of me saying that to her one day in the car while driving me to middle school.

And it's true.

I hate waking up early. Especially for work. Especially if I didn't get enough sleep the night before.

On occasions where multiple days in a row I have not gotten enough sleep, I'll slapped my smart phone's alarm to snooze and yell, "I hate this shit" to no one in particular.

When I'm tired, I can go from zero to bitch in the blink of an eye. When I'm that exhausted, all I want is to be left alone. I can usually survive work if I'm given a task I can do by myself or if I've paired with someone or someones who don't talk to me.

Seriously, don't talk to me when I'm tired. I don't have the patience to deal with people when I'm tired. If you must talk, keep it to short sentences. Trying to strike up a conversation with me will only issue evil thoughts about your torture and death.

The worst, and what I find happens most often when I'm tired, are the people (in particular men) who try to make me smile or laugh. Try to cheer me up.

When I'm tired, I don't want to be cheered up. I want to be left the fuck alone. And I find it irritating when people try to foist their happiness on me. I'm allowed to feel like shit. I'm allowed to be moody, grumpy even.

My general disposition is no concern of yours. I don't owe you a smile. I barely owe you acknowledgement. I don't have to be happy. And when some random thinks he's going to cheer up my day with his winning personality, all I want to do is shove his care and concern down his throat.

I've noticed how bad it can get lately. 6am Load Ins and 1am Load Outs will do that.

Unfortunately, no one wins when trying to catch me in a good mood. If I start my day early, I won't be good til I've slept. And that means a nap. And naps for me happen as infrequently as you might have guessed.

There is only one exception to my tired grumpy self: events. At an event, I can run on three hours of sleep and be happy and chipper. I run off of adrenaline. What new thing will I learn about or see today? Events allow for naps. And orgasms. And a good beating or two. At an event, grumpy I almost never am.

But in real life. If I haven't gotten enough sleep. If I'm over worker and under rested. It's best to steer clear of me. Neither of us will like me when I'm grumpy.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013


It all started Saturday night...

"Move your hands. Move your fucking hands."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"I'm going to punch you in your chest. Twice. If your hands get in the way, I will punch you more. If you take the two punches, that will be it for your sternum. Can you do that? Or do you want me to keep punching your sternum?"
"I can. I can do it."

I held his other arm. The one not going to punch me. The one resting on my chest. He reared back. Landed his blow. I sobbed, and prepared again.

"One more."

He reared back. Struck harder. I sobbed harder.

"Good girl. Such a good girl."

Then came Sunday morning...

"Go ahead and partner up if you want to practice this."

I looked back at him. A few head nods later and I was on my back as he hovered over me. Scott went over how you would initially look for signs of injury in someone. The head. The spine. The chest.

As I laid there, I remembered FrozenMeursault already knew this stuff. It was a part of his job. As Scott continued to talk, my partner sat beside me, not taking any notes. Instead, he got comfortable, leaning his elbow onto my sternum and resting his head in his hand. I started to screeched.

"Sh, we're in class."

And then there was after lunch...

Dragon needed a partner for two classes. I wanted to be in rope. And he'd tied me before. So I volunteered to be his rope bottom.

Our first class was Newaza to Fly. I found my happy place in his ropes. Our second class was Thinking Rope. Dragon worked on breaking down his TK and figuring out all the ways to make his tie better.

Once, during a slight lull in the class, he remembered where I'd been attacked the night before. And that morning. And now, by him. He fashioned a different TK, with shoulder straps that crossed right over my sternum. The fit was tight. It hurt like a bitch. He smiled.

But wait; there's more...

At the end of Thinking Rope, people gravitated either out of the class or towards WykdDave & Clover.

Rough happened to look back on me as I was chatting about my day.

"People keep attacking my sternum. Every time I mention that I was hurt or show off my bruises, my friends, who are Sadists... Want. To. Hurt. Me. Why did I open my mouth?"

I saw the look in his eyes. The devilish glee. He crept towards me. I knew what was about to happen.


One hand went to my hair. The other formed a fist. Went for my chest. Burried his knuckles into my sternum. I wiggled. I tried to get away. I screamed.

"Why are you screaming," he whispered into my ear. "We are in class."
"I couldn't help it. My lizard brain kicked in."
"We are humans. You can overcome your lizard brain. Be a big girl and not scream."

He dug his hand in again. I didn't wriggled this time. I took his pain. My muscles convulsed. My mouth stretched open. My eyes pursed shut. But I didn't scream.

"Now that's a big girl."

I heard the evil grin in his voice.

Not done yet...

"How are you doing?"
"I can't tell you because you'll hurt me."

I was walking from class. It wasn't five minutes later. I was going to meet up with people for pizza. I thought I was safe.

But then, somehow, Gray and Spicey were in front of me. And Gray asked that question. And I can't lie to him.

They both stopped. My arms instinctively crossed in front of my chest.

"Everytime I tell people about how my sternum keeps getting targeted, they all hurt me."

I whimpered my explanation. I'm sure it was like evil candy to his sadistic ears.

"Put your arms down," said Gray. I did.

"Open your jacket." I parted the fabric. My chest was on full display.

I saw his hand come close. I prepared for the blow. I flinched as he only slightly tapped my sternum.

"What's been happening to her?" asked Spicey.
"People have been giving her sternal rubs."
"Where's the sternum?"
"This. See this. Right here."
"Yes, that. That is the sternum. That right there."

They both jammed their fingers into the center of my chest. I whimpered through my pain.

Spicey's anatomy lesson done, we headed upstairs.

"My friends keep hurting me."
"You know, if you didn't say anything, it wouldn't happen."
"I can't help it. It's in my nature."

Yup, again...

I sat on the couch, waiting for people to show up for pizza. Nomad sat beside me. I was happy she was there.

"I keep getting hurt. People keep attacking my chest. It's been, like, six people now."

I looked to my right.

"Shit. Ava. I forgot. You're a switch."

I saw the look in her eye. Knew what was in store for me.

She scooted closer. Pushed her fingers into my sternum.

It was the lobby. There is no play in the lobby. My face contorted. My body shook. But I didn't scream.

"If you'll let me make you shiver and shake like that, I'll fuck you."

My chest was given a reprieve for the evening, but not for the rest of my visit...

It was time to go. The Closing Ceremony had ended. Rope given away. Money donated to charity. Time for the goodbyes.

I spoke to Dov, who I'd barely seen during my weekend. I started bragging about my bruises. After he said he wouldn't hurt me.

I showed him my thighs. My arms. And then, my sternum.

"You have no idea how hard it is for me to not hurt you right now. Just give me one."
"Oh, okay. Since you asked."

I braced myself. He held his hand flat, parrallel to my chest. He bent his middle finger. Readying the knuckle. He swung back. Then forward. Connecting in the center of my chest.

"And, because it's the sternum, I don't have to hit you again for symmertry."


And now, the last...

Our gradual exit from the ballroom crept like a snail up a tree.

Rough looked at me. And remembered. And stuck out his pinky finger.

"Oh god."
"It's just my pinky."
"Yes, but your pinky is mighty."

He came in close. Leaned forward. Drove his nail into my chest. Twisted one way. Then the other.

I scrunched my face. Splayed open my mouth. But again, I didn't scream.

"Good girl," he said, putting his digital weapon away.

He hugged me bye, one of many that afternoon.

I took a picture of my chest the morning after I got home. The bruise, because I proved that yes you can get a bruise on your sternum, looked kind of like a heart. Sweet, and fitting, for my Shibaricon adventure.


Text me, don't knock.

I took my things upstairs. Dumped my kit just inside the door. Then walked across the hotel. Made my way up to the suite. 


A few breaths later, the door opened. The room was dark. I stepped inside. Saw shoes by the front. Thought, to be polite, I should take off my boots.

I sat my jacket and water bottle on a table. Bent down. Went for a lace.

He grabbed me by my hair. Pulled me into his room. Closed the door. Threw me against the bed. I stumbled, knees on the floor, leaning against the mattress.

"Now you can take off your boots."

I stood. Leaned against the tall bed. Reached down. Unlaced my first boot. Tugged it off. Threw it and my sock aside. Repeated. My lacing, intricate, takes time to unwind.

He sat on a comfy chair in the corner. I took off my badge. Put it on a table. Rested my glasses next to it.

I sat on the floor at the corner of the bed. Faced him. Had one knee up. Pulled my legs in tight. Looked at him as he read.

"Why are you wearing your dress?"

I turned around. Stood up on my knees. Reached down. Pulled my gray mesh dress off. Made sure to wiggle my ass. Unhooked my bra. Flung my clothes in the pile with my boots.

"How many RopenSpace tattoos do you have?"
"Not many. Just four."

I smiled. One of the of temporary tattoos sat just above my ass crack. His comment reminded me.

"Take off my boots."

I crawled over to him. Went for his left foot first. Rolled his pant leg up. Unlaced his leather. Spread the two sides. Worked the laces loose. Rested my head on the toe. My hands held his heal. He pulled his foot out. I set his boot to my right. Worked on his right. Put it by its mate.

"Would you like to taste my cock?"

I reached up. Unbuttoned his pants. Pulled out his cock. Took him into my mouth. Licked his balls. Enjoyed it all. I'd missed the taste and feel of him.

He stood up. Pushed down his slacks. They landed in a puddle by his ankles.

"Take off my pants."

I pulled them from his feet. Put the fabric by his boots.

He grabbed my hair. Fucked my face. I sat on my feet. Rested my hands on the small of my back. Took him as he wished.

"You make it so hard to just read and go to bed."

After 69 and 96. After fisting and rimming. Titty fucking and cuming.  Passed out.  Slept.  And the next morning I did the walk of pride, happiness, and enjoyment back to my hotel room.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Three Ashes

The 1st
"Poetic, would you like some ash?"

She looked over at me, huge smile on her face, a two inch head standing vertical on her cigar.

"Oh God, yes," I said, my submissive voice squeaking out. "I've cried each time ash was flicked into the tray."

On my hands and knees, I crawled towards her. Stopped. Sat on my feet. Opened my mouth wide and put out my tongue.

She rolled the ash into my mouth. I held the lump for her and the rest near her to see. I looked at her. I smiled with my eyes. Made a small connection.

"Thank you," she said. "You can swallow."

I closed my mouth and grinned. Then crawled away, happy.

The 2nd


He had a pretty head of ash ready for my mouth. I extracted myself from my corner. Bodies squeezed together to fight off the chill in the air and the wind that assaulted us on the balcony.

I crawled towards him, head bent. Rested my hands on his knees to keep balance. As I was about to sit on my feet, his hand found the back of my head. Gently petted my hair. I stayed as I was. Head bent. Forehead near his crotch. A feeling of connection being built. I nuzzled a little. Purred a bit. Felt warmth even though it was so cold.

A small touch on my chin signaled for my head to rise. I looked into his dark eyes. Saw him, and his ash.

"Open your mouth. Wider."

I did as he told. Tilted my head back. He rolled his ash into my mouth. I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened again. Looked into his eyes once more. Our gaze locked. I felt transfixed.

He brought his cigar to the side of my face. I felt the heat near my skin. Heard the burning of my hair. Didn't move because he didn't want me to.

A caress of my chin closed my mouth. His fingers traced across my cheek and back down. I closed my eyes. Leaned my head into his touch. Let myself get lost in our shared moment.

His hand stilled. I opened my eyes again.

He thanked me. I thanked him. And then crawled back to my spot.

The 3rd

He looked over at me, a knowing grin on his face.


He was only two seats away, yet he was the hardest to get to. We'd all huddled in close, trying desperately to fight nature. I backed out, swiveled around, and meeped as I sat in place in front of him.

His eyes were intense. His small smile almost mischievous. His hand reached behind me. Grabbed my hair. Controlled my head. Brought it forward.

I opened my mouth. Stuck out my tongue. He rolled his ash. I felt the heat of the cherry near me. He kept his eyes on mine. Saw his control over me. My submission to him. Had me close my mouth. Thanked me in his quiet yet strong voice.

I smiled and thanked him as well.

Crawled away. Found my spot. Snuggled up to those beside me. Happy to be around people I don't see nearly enough.

Monday, May 20, 2013


~ a story ~

"I'm not going back to him."

"That's not why I'm here, Ma'am."

"No, you're hear because he asked for you."

"Yes, Ma'am. He has that right. So I'm here."

"I'm not going back to him."

"I'm not here for him. I'm here for the both of you. For what you shared."

"Huh? What we shared? That's over."

"Yes, Ma'am. It is. But still, I'm here to honor it. Please, tell me how it began."

"Didn't he already tell you?"

"Yes, Ma'am, he did, but he was not the only person in love. How did you meet him?"

"You know how I met him. You know it all."

"Ma'am, I know a lot. But I only know his perspective. His side of your love. I need to hear you tell it. I need to hear your experience. I need to add your voice to the story. Please, give me these few minutes. Then I'll leave. You don't even have to show up for the storytelling. But I need to hear all sides before I can speak for the love. So, please, how did you meet him?"

She took a deep breath. I could see she was thinking, weighing how much she hated being here over how much I was trying to make it better. Did she want to give me more shit, or just let it out? Finally let it go.

She settled in her seat the way they all do, the way I've seen them all shift right before they begin.

"It was a nice Spring day. The first for the season. So I thought I would go for a walk. Maybe run a bit, too. I had my ear buds in. I was listening to some up beat poppy music. I was happy, smiling, breathing in the fresh air. And not paying attention to the neighborhood. To cars passing by.

"He didn't see me. He was looking for a friend's home, searching for the street numbers on the houses. He came around the bend, an almost blind turn. I didn't hear his approach. Was oblivious to anything behind me.

"He clipped my hip. I tumbled into the grass down by the side of a creek that ran through my neighborhood. He wasn't going fast, and the soft earth cushioned my fall. But he freaked out all the same, worried he'd maimed me or something.

"To get him to stop panicking and to not worry, I let him drive me home. I made him some tea to calm his nerves. We talked by the picture window in my kitchen.

"He has these beautiful blue eyes. Like the water we swam in during our honeymoon."


Alec and Anna were like oil and vinegar. Smashed together by chance. Blending in a way that didn't make chemical sense.

There was always a push and pull to their relationship. Neither knew who would be on top any given day.

But from their passion came a strong bond, a love that saw them through ten years together. Through displacement by a natural catastrophe. Through monetary hardships. And through shared unbelievable heartache.

Their love bore a child who gave them three years of life before succumbing to a disease laced with their sorrow.

Neither Alec nor Anna will deny the pain the death of their child caused them. And that it was this blow that created the first crack, which turned into a valley of separation, ultimately causing their parting.

Nor will Alec and Anna deny the love and passion that still exists between them. They will forever be a wondrous mixture that never smoothly blends.

Their love was spectacular in its life.

But now their love has ended.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Midnight Snack

~ erotica ~

A hand over my mouth startled me awake. My eyes shot open. My shriek came out as a mumble into a hand. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. To recognize Dirk as the body that rested over mine.

When he saw the realization, he eased up his hand.

"What are you?"

His hand returned to my mouth. He shook his head no. My eyes slanted towards him. What was going on?

And then his lips replaced his hand. And we were kissing. In my bed. In the middle of the night. In the house we shared with four of our friends, who were all sleeping.

I had work in the morning. A long day, in fact, full of people I didn't like and assignments I barely cared about. I needed my rest.

But he was kissing me. And I didn't want him to stop kissing me. Ever.

I felt his body adjust to one side. Felt his arm run down my front. Felt his hand slip under my pajama pants. Felt his fingertips find my clit.

I moaned into his mouth, his lips muffling my sounds. I tilted my hips up, up. Trying to feel more of his hand against me.

Through his boxers, I knew how much he wanted this. How hard he was. How much he wanted me.

My left hand reached over to my end table. Blindly opened a drawer. Palmed a condom. I ran my hand down his arm until I found his free hand. He grabbed the condom. Held it in between his fingers. Then covered my mouth with his hand again.

He ripped off my pants. Dove his face down in between my legs. Got off the bed. Stood against the edge to be able to reach. My hands ambled around for something, anything, to cover my mouth. I found my stuffed bear, Honey. Crushed her against my lips. I hoped she didn't mind seeing me like this.

He climbed back onto the bed. Lifted my hips to his mouth. I could still feel the condom in his hand as he ignored it. Concentrated on licking. Flicking. Sucking. Enjoying my pussy.

I was happy I'd found Honey. My moans grew louder, but she muffled my noises. My body writhed. The tension grew. Built. Until I came against his tongue. Came squeezing my thighs around his face. Came screaming his name into my stuffed bear's belly.

He licked me once. Twice. Lapping up the mess. Before setting my hips back down on my bed. Before dropping the condom back in the drawer. Before slipping my pajama pants back on me. Before kissing my forehead and quietly slipping out of my bedroom.

The next evening, after a dull day. After people I didn't care much for and work I was barely able to stand, I came home. Kicked off my shoes. Dropped my things by the door. Heard no one else in the house. Checked my mail. And found a note in my box.

You taste delicious.

I ran upstairs and masturbated, staring at that piece of paper.

That night, and every night since, I leave my bedroom door cracked open, for the next time Dirk has a craving for a midnight snack.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

e[lust] #46

featured photo of the month

Photo courtesy of A Penny for Your Dirty Thoughts

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #47? Start with the newly updated rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

How to Shave Your Asshole

Tied and Blindfolded

Why Disney is like BDSM

~ Featured Posts (Molly’s Picks) ~

Because you are so beautiful

Suspension of Disbelief

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Dildology: The Science of Sex Toys

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Vagina Thief
The Role of Feelings in Swinging Lifestyle
Why I Feel No Jealousy
I Asked SilverHubby to Respond to a Comment
Mastering Masturbation in 7 Steps
The One Where I Face Reality

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

The Cycle of Change, Simplified
My IMsL 2013 Keynote

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Kink of the Week #5: Roleplay
How To find (and catch) a Male Submissive
How to be a Good female Sub
The Master's Voice
Kink of the Week #5: Roleplay
"S&M: The Dark Side of Gay Liberation", 1975
PolyAnna's Musings: Choosing Revisited
KOTW-Roleplay: W's Perspective
Liberating the Fisherman's Wife
How much realism should be in BDSM erotica?

Erotic Fiction

Sunday Morning
Warehouse 69 Episode 2: The Marquis' Crop
Sunday Morning
Bend Over, Bad Kitty!
Dirty Sexy Money
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Four

Erotic Non Fiction

My First MMF Threesome
That Smile
What Wet Dreams are Made Of.....
A Good Match
I was a Naughty Girl
Right Here. Now.
I fantasize about blowjobs & being a good girl


Things to Wear – NaPoWriMo
Blood Lust
A poem for Rose
Subby Space


Look at Me!


Friday, May 17, 2013

Crotch Rope

~ erotica ~

My clit throbbed. I hadn't cum yet. The rope had only been on me for a few minutes.

He'd taken out the coil, my rope, and knelt in front of me. I'd let my hands laze in his hair as he worked. Wrapped once around my hips. Once under my ass. Knotted. Threaded the rope down between my lips. Brought it back up. Made a knot. Pulled tight through my pussy. Passed under the bands in back. Yanked down. Ran under the bottom band. Brought the rope back up. Tied it again. Tight. Knotted the excess around my waist loosely.

"Good. Go put in the laundry."

My face asked a question; my voice was silent.

"You heard me. Go put in the laundry."

I harrumphed before walking away.

Immediately, with my first step, I felt it. Every movement was different. Every swish of my hips. I bent to pick up the basket. I took the stairs to the basement. I filled the washer, bending and lifting. Never had a hated choir been so fun. I bounced back up the stairs. Up was so much more fun than down.

I stood in front of him.

"Sit," he said.

And here I am now. Minutes later.

He looms over me. I can't help but squirm in my chair. Even the slightest movement is wondrous. Full of an almost guilty pleasure.

He just looks down on me and smiles.




I don't move.

But I can't not move. I bite my forefinger. And pulse. Pulse my clit against the knot. And look up at him with my puppy dog eyes. I beg without words. Let him see my torment. My pain. He loves to see my pain.

He bends down. Whispers into me ear.

"Go to bed."

I gasp, then scamper to our room. Every step is more glorious than the next.

I pull back the covers. Again, I sit. Then lay down. And then writhe. Face down. Snaking my body against mattress. Fucking myself with my rope. With the knot he tied. And it grows. And grows.

I turn my head. He's there. Staring. Smiling.

"Are you close?"


"Get closer."

I ease my hips up and down. I feel him watching me. My breathing quickens.


He flicks open his knife. I feel a yank on the rope. A moment of ease.

And then he's inside me. And he's pulling the rope in time with his thrusts. And the knot is against my clit. And he's pumping in and out.

And I scream, "Please?"


And I scream again.

Afterwards, I feel a little sad. Until he kisses my cheek, smiles, and says, "It's still long enough for next time."

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Daily Zen

I'm not a religious person. When pressed by someone to give an answer, I've said in the past I'm pseudo-Christian. I was baptized Catholic. Went to Catholic school for seven years. But my mother converted to Baptist before I started either of those schools. And, when once asked by her, I bluntly said her religion was not for me (a brave and strong willed act, considering I was 14 at the time).

Catholicism is definitely not my bag. I'm too feminist to reclaim that mantel, though I did love the ritual and pageantry of it. Baptists have their music and community atmosphere, but again my morals won't let me be a part of a religion that goes so heavily against my views.

Mostly, I feel adrift when it comes to religion. Sometimes I wonder if there is anything to believe in at all.

But then I get this feeling that there is something, some sort of life force in the universe. I can't really name it. I just know when I see the beauty of a flower, or think about the enormity of our world, and worlds beyond. Or the fact that I have two amazing nieces born from my friends' love, no matter the form it took, I tear up. That life essence is something, though I don't know what.

Lately, in trying to find center in my own life, both personal and professional, I've come upon a random resource to calm the raging storm: Daily Zen. It's a group on FetLife that I joined which posts one or two Zen proverbs each day. I read them, take them in, let my mind linger on their thoughts. It helps.

I am by no means actively seeking out religion or a new way of being for myself. But I appreciate the words. They center me. Make me concentrate on, think about something other than parts of my life I, at times, view as petty or frivolous.

And, since this is my blog, I get to do what I want. Henceforth, I will occasionally share those words with you.

I already have two podcasts: PoeticReadsGray & Daddy's Good Girl. Instead of launching a third, I'm going to occasionally include voice snippets in this blog. Nothing big. Each proverb usually is only a minute or two.

But when the words move me. Make me think. Get me to stop the constant chatter of no-good-very-bad things rolling around in my head, I'll share them with you.

Here are two to start:

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Your Kiss

~ a poem ~

Our kiss didn't end the moment our lips parted. The warmth of your breath, your mouth, lingered on my skin. Even as I stepped back. Even as I smiled and told you bye. Even as we walked away.

I felt your kiss throughout my day. In moments that came without warning. In thoughts of you. In stolen seconds where I turned my head to the side, looked down, and smiled. In breaths where all I wanted was you here, near me, and your lips on mine again.

Your kiss gave me energy throughout my day. As work tried to tear me down. As people gave me misery. Your kiss gave me joy. Hope to get through. Happiness at the thought of you. And glee, knowing I would be able to kiss you again so soon.

Your kiss caught me randomly, at times. When I waited in line for food. As I looked for something or other on my desk. On the walk to talk to someone. You were there. Hands in my hair, on my neck. Lips against mine. Breath and passion and longing. And we were kissing all over again.

I was glad no one could hear my thoughts. Feel what I felt. The heat of it. The wanting. The joy. That kiss was ours. Our moment. Our break from the everyday. Our embracing of each other. Connection and passion and need and home.

As I make my way back to you, I can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop thinking about you. Don't want to stop remembering. Living in that moment. And looking forward to the next time we kiss.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Three Guys At Work

The 1st guy

"To make these fit, there's a trick. You have to marry them together."
"I wouldn't call it marrying. I'd more say they were..."

I was tired. You could probably even say cranky. My day started with a 6am setup. Continued with a 3pm focus call. And now ended with a 10pm breakdown that didn't actually start til 11pm. I just wanted to go home. But we had to get shit done.

And he was new. So I got it. He was trying to be playful. Trying to make me smile. But, tonight, that wasn't going to happen until the truck was packed, I'd initialed my timesheet, and was walking back to my car.

"Please, not tonight. No vulgar jokes tonight. Normally I'd roll with it, let it ride, but just not tonight."
"It's just marrying seems too permanent for their situation."
"Yeah. Right."

I finished piling the lights in the bin and moved onto another project.

The 2nd guy

"No. Stop. Don't put those in there. They don't go in there."
"Because the four with bases go in there. Those go with the others with clamps."
"Fine. You don't have to get an attitude about it."

I don't like him. Not anymore.

At a certain point I did. I thought he was a decent tech, a decent crew lead. And then I worked with him once where I was his crew lead. He was passive aggressive. A couple of times he outright ignored me when I asked him questions. Thankfully I haven't had to deal with him as my crew since.

And, since, I haven't liked him at all.

So, when I was trying to tell him why he was making a mistake. When I tried to point out his error. When I tried to go against his laziness (because that's what it was). When I tried to instruct him in the proper way to pack that particular case, since I'd been there all day (one of only three who had), he said I was giving him "attitude".

I was just happy I didn't curse him out right there. Though, to be fair, I'm too nice. Even to people who don't deserve it. I'll turn my back and mutter expletives to myself before I stand face-to-face with you, telling you how I really feel. I view that as being polite. I'm sure some of them see it as being weak. And to that, I say, fuck them. My Mom raised me right.

I spoke maybe three words to that guy for the rest of the gig.

In my opinion, his problem is that he's pretty. Very pretty, in fact, so people will often let him have his way. Even when he's wrong. But, lately, not just I have noticed when he fucks up. And he's getting on more than just my nerves.

The 3rd guy

"Ooo, are you taking that home?"

He carried a small vase of purple tulips left behind by the florists. He held it up by his face and playfully stroked the buds.

"Would you like one?"
"Normally I don't accept gig flowers, but sure."

He picked one out of the vase and gave it to me. Another female employee walked over and commented on the flowers. He offered her one as well, which she accepted.

We pushed the last few cases towards the freight elevator.

As we waited behind another company, the group was finally in good spirits. Though we had started late, we were close to finished, having worked really hard to get everything broken down.

When we reached the truck, and pushed the last case on, a wave of relief washed over me. Long day done.

Everyone congregated by the crew lead and waited to initial our timesheetsReacher novel (which I could barely put down all day), in my hands. The purple against the white and red of the cover looked almost artistic. I smiled to myself, happy I'd brought the book inside to help pass the time of the hour wait before we started, and now knowing I'd be able to get back to it soon.

After everyone initialed, we slowly disbursed.

"What are you going to do with them," I asked him, referring to his small vase of tulips.
"I don't know. Hey, do you want them?"

He held it out for me.

"Um, sure."

I took the vase, put my flower back inside it.

I smiled, and remembered, Not every guy I work with is an asshole.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Grue-p Dynamics

Ok, looks like we will have room for you. :)

It felt like an enclave. No, a kinky commune. No, a kinky family reunion.

We woke up together. Got ready at the same time. Drank our respective morning drinks. Shoveled loads of food and supplies into cars. Carpooled to our destination. Worked together to make the Grue run smoothly.

Went to dinner together. Came back to the AfterGrue with each other. At the end of the night, cleaned up. Closed the building.

Made our way back home. For during that weekend the house was all our home. Crashed and went to bed at the same time.

Got up again at the same time. Rode to pancakes. And then we started our parting.

For a weekend, I shared a home with six other people. I felt welcomed, cared for, by the kinksters around me. By TwistedView and K2, who opened up their home to us. And by those who shared the domicile with me. We broke bread together, shared space, laughed and chatted. We were in and among one another.

There is a certain type of euphoria in the midst of an event. I get that. But I loved this more. Not only did we attend the Grue together, we shared almost all parts of our lives for a weekend. I loved the morning hustle, the ordered chaos, as much as the presentations and play that would follow.

I loved the warm honey water. Listening to a Katt Williams sound clip. Cookies fresh out of the oven. Sitting around the kitchen island for an hour, or just the ten minutes before we had to run out.

I loved being a part of this temporary family unit, only for a weekend, but immersed in care and love.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013


You knew I was going to do this, right?

Sometimes I just do things for people. Buy them a drink. Take care of the check for a meal. Crochet them something. It's a part of my personality that I like to do for others, especially if I care about you.

During the month of April, an A to Z blog challenge occurred. People posted one blog a day corresponding to the letter of the date (1st-A, 2nd-B, etc). Sunday people took off.

I didn't learn about the challenge until it was too late to sign up for it, but I still used the alphabet idea as inspiration for last month's blogs. (Please ignore the fact that it took me until noon today to finish said blogs.)

I learned of the blog challenge through Gray's blog at . He posted an entry stating he was going to try it. I thought this sounded like fun. I love reading his thoughts and was pleased this idea would give me more of his musings, on an almost daily basis no less.

Plus it helped that it was a sexy subject challenge. Bloggers were asked to write about a topic corresponding to the letter of the date and relating to sex in some way.

One day, before a gig, I read Gray's second entry in my car. I have this habit of reading things out loud, especially when I'm alone. As I read B is for Baculine, I found myself smiling, especially at a small moment he describes in the entry.

I already have a podcast of my reading Gray's vanilla blog posts at PoeticReadsGray.

But, for the AtoZ challenge, I thought I would do something special. Just for him. Just cause. I re-read B is for Baculine immediately into my iPhone's voice recorder and texted the file to Gray. I didn't expect anything of it, except, hopefully, that he would like hearing his words in my voice.

I kept doing it throughout the month because one, I really liked it, and two, he never told me stop.

When I saw him at the Grue Pitt, he asked me why I'd read the entries. I told him simply because I loved his writings and thought it would please him. And that was the long and short of it.

Until I got a text from Gray a week later.

- Hope you like the podcast.

My reply: Oh...god...

Because yes, it made perfect sense. Quite a few of his entries were rope-centric. Why wouldn't he create a Ropecast entry from his blogs? And I'd given him a wealth of content to post: 26 entries totally 1 hour and 36 minutes. It was perfect.

Graydancer's A-to-Z Blog Challenge, as read by Poetic Desires

Except it never occurred to me. I did not expect this, at all.

Still, while listening to the podcast, and after finishing it, and even just thinking about it, I can't help but smile. A big, huge, face-hurting smile.

Attention and affection.
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