I finished my marathon study and test taking about ten days ago. It's nice not to be haunted by the compulsive need to memorize restrictive covenants, the Supremacy Clause, and servient estates. Wait...that sounds kinda kinky. I miss it. Oy...
Anyway, during my effort at becoming the poster boy for "the-more-you-know", my friend Ms. Mahwah Kiss was very supportive. I think she felt very guilty for saying that she was certain I'd flunk when I told her I was forcing my fifty-six year old brain to memorize the Rule Aganist Perpetuities again. After I finished the little two day, twelve hour, pop quiz; in a fit of generousity borne of remorse, she offered to do something "non-kosher" with me to celebrate. She made it clear that "non-kosher" meant kinky.
I think I've related here on "Client Nine" that Ms. Kiss is an example of my life long penchant for being overwhelmingly attracted to "tops-in-the-street-but-bottoms-in-the-sheets". She's whip smart, very snarky, really hot, and all about telling me just what she thinks I ought to do. But she doesn't have a real, honest to goodness, pervy bone in her very lovely body. She's at best, which is very good I must imagine, a spicy creme caramel. Or a scrumptious vanilla sundae with some chocolate sprinkles and Heath bar crunch mixed in.
I knew this was a bad idea, but I just could not resist sending her the link to yesterday's RopeShare event. I thought, "Okay Ms. Kiss. Let's see ya put yer money where yer big, sexy mouth is." Plus, if ever there was a non-threatening kinky thing for a non-pervert to enjoy, it's a RopeShare event. I love RopeShare.
I got an email response from her that just said, "Oy Vey!" I thought this incredibly fitting as the class was to be taught by Lolita Wolf, who calls herself "The Leather Yenta." It seemed somehow both politically and religiously correct.
However, when I saw Ms. Kiss this past week she was incredulous that I'd asked her if she might consider going. "A bondage workshop?? Are you crazy??", she practically gasped. "I'm worried I'll get all kinds of porn spam just for clicking on the link." I assured her she was safe from perverted spammers bent on forcible conversion to Semitic or, heaven forbid, goyisha kinkdom.
"Maybe a movie.", she whispered sotto voce.
"Have I got some movies for you!", I crowed.
"Oh I bet you do. On second thought, maybe I'll buy you a nice root beer float," she smirked.
With chocolate sprinkles on the ice cream, no doubt.
I think I'm just going to have to figure out how to date kinky in the upcoming months as I separate from wife and home. This conversion business is for the birds and besides...somebody holds the key.
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