Ebb and Flow

Sadly, She-Who-Visits and I have decided to postpone our much anticipated jaunt. While I'm disappointed to say the least, I'm oddly taking the whole thing in stride. When last we left our intrepid, daring, handsome, submissive hero he was eagerly scurrying about at his dominant's behest checking flight schedules, rental cars (no convertibles, drat), idyllic beachside inns, and even the average air and water temperatures of our destination. I was a happy, happy subbie. I was directed to put a hold on her flight from there to here for 24 hours, was told to renew the hold a day later, and then stunningly, She just dropped off the face of the earth. Total MIA.

Even though it was She who was supposed to let me know if she'd cleared it with her husband and gotten coverage at work - breathtakingly - she surfaced almost six days later and asked, "What's the status of our trip? It dropped off my radar." After I picked my jaw up off the floor, rinsed it off and replaced it on my face, I somehow politely responded that she was the one who was supposed to get back to me and if she still wanted to go there was whole lotta work to do to make it happen.

She loves to mock me when I go on and on. This time, it was her own trademark expression - "blah-blah-blah" - which captured the essence of her very lame explanation as to her ambivalance. The fact of the matter is that it is me, not our trip, which is way off her radar right now. Once she'd gone on about the reasons why she was hesitant (they might move, might not, new job, dog ate her homework) she said, "Why don't you check everything again, see if the prices have changed and get back to me."

Now I love a nice orange crunchy carrot dangling all nice and tantalizingly from a stick - preferably a stick she'll beat me with as I eat the carrot off the floor at her feet. But I knows me some ambivalance when I sees me some. So I suggested we postpone and she readily accepted.

Things change. I am not in her life these days in the same way. When I made my plea to be hers at the end of last summer, in so many ways I didn't really know what I was asking. But she knew. In the five months after I "proposed" she made me the happiest subbie I've ever been - and it was all long distance. I felt our strong bond on a daily basis. In February, it just stopped. There are lots of reasons on her end. All understandable and legitimate. While it doesn't help my feeling of lonliness, in the end, I believe that if I just give her space, she'll cycle back around. No more chasing. No more letters with question marks at the end of sentences. I'll find a voice without request for return. Asking will lead only to disappointment.

On the bright side, I told my kinky work friend about my blog and she read it. She called me "deep and poetic". Little does she know, huh? It was the first time I've told someone in my "vanilla" life about my advochasty musings. She seemed to genuinely like my writing and said she took the stuff about her as a compliment. I told her it was meant as truly high praise and she was an early inspiration to be more out with my kink. I'm really glad I have her to talk to ... and flirt with!

So there's an ebb and flow to the current of my life right now. Through the crests and troughs I know my course is true. So what if the tide is high ... I'm not the kinda girl who gives up just like that ... oh nooooooo.

Bend With The Breeze

She-Who-Visits is supposed to let me know whether we are are going to spend a weekend together later this month. We've been talking on the phone, emailing, and conspiring. It's all very exciting. Just the contact is wonderful. She has been back in my life on daily basis. The scheme is to escape to a place we had planned to go together two years ago. I guess "plan" is a generous word. I begged, she relented and said yes, then I chickened out. There were just too many lies to tell back then for me to do it. I was closer to my wife and had to hoodwink everyone at work. My fantasy getaway collided with the reality of my life and I opted out.

This time it's different. I really want to be with her, but it is bittersweet. On the one hand I'm excited to see her and maybe get played with. On the other hand, the ease with which I'm eagerly arranging each successive flight or hotel reservation, is a measure of how much less close I am to my wife. I'm going to be in the vicinity of my hoped for rendez-vous with She-Who-Visits at a conference. My "cover story" for my wife is that after the conference I'll be meeting with people about some new business, while in reality I'm pining to get up to all manner of "old business" with the lovely She.

Three years ago, my wife would have excitedly suggested we go to the conference together and make a long weekend of it. In fact, as the date gets closer I worry that she'll want to come along. But I think it's just phantom limb pain. For so long I've wanted more freedom. Now I've got it but it comes with a price tag - the passing of intimacy.

On the other hand, while I reel from a heady mix of excitement and loss, the oh-so-dommy She has mysteriously left the radar screen. Almost three days ago she had me put a hold on a flight for her while she checked two things overnight to pave the way for our trip. Easy things. I haven't heard from her in 72 hours. Honestly, as I write this I'm not truly certain that she can even meet me. I'm one of those people who makes a plan and then does it. She ponders the plan, tweaks it, gets it for cheaper, rearranges flights, agonizes over the whens, hows and whethers -and then calls me high maintenance!

I renewed the airline hold for a couple of days even though I haven't heard from her, but yesterday I let it expire. There's a limit to my taste for the unrequited. Still, I long for her to call soon and chastise me for not keeping all the plates spinning on their sticks while balanced on my nose. We shall see.

So while my brave new world feels a bit off kilter this morning I think I just need to open my arms a little wider, embrace it, and sway...bend in its breeze. Because whatever happens and whoever she may be ...

I can hear the sounds of violins
Long before it begins.
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now.

Sprung Spring

There's nothing like a beautiful, warm, sunny, April day to unleash my submissive side. I want a spring fling! From the very ends of my fingers to the tips of my toes I long to gaze stupidly into the gorgeous eyes of a dominant woman who thinks I'm cute and follow her everywhere, doing her bidding. This April day finds me still married, still living at home, and still enmeshed in the puzzle of how to sort out my life. So what am I to do with all this seasonal ardor?

No single domme in her right mind would get too close to me. I'm unavailable to be a boyfriend and worse yet, I'm in transition. It's completely unfair to invite a woman on a train trip which could end in a massive, tumultuous wreck. But does that stop me from fantasizing? No way, dude. I'm a guy and it's spring! So other than spring, what brings this on?

One of my favorite flirt friends of all time is leaving New York this weekend for good. That is if she can stand life west of the Hudson River. She of the Mah Wah Kiss is leaving me. She's the one that when I confessed my proclivities said, "You mean whips and chains?". While that really took some of the wind out of my kink-dreamer sails, more than anything she was a symbol. She's the woman who thinks I'm smart, sexy, and desireable. We are not entangled in each other's lives in any major way, but knowing her over these past years has really helped me own myself and my kink as pleasing and attractive. I will miss her alot.

So who am I going to meet for coffee, lunch, and dinner and flirt madly with?

Another woman friend may have the answer for me. She has also been one of my "crush girls". She's married now and very happy. She's also kinky. What particular brand, I'm not sure, but one Halloween when she was single she told me her costume was a nun's outfit over a corset, stockings, and stilletos. I mean, that's a whole sub-genre of role play on its own!! She tried to get her then boyfriend to wear a priest's collar and a raincoat with a diaper underneath. He was having none of it. I offered to reprise the role the following year. She just laughed. Suffice it to say she's knowledgeable and way kink friendly if not flat out dommy.

Anyway, this woman and I occasionally work together and I just came out and asked if she had any kinky women friends who might like to have dinner with me and flirt. She said she could probably hook me up!! Despite the seasonal juices flowing, I still think flirt friends are more important to me right now than hard core play or sessioning. One day I'm sure The Hunger, as my friend HMP defines the need to play, will return. But for now, a new flirt friend would be just the thing.

Who knows, maybe I'll see her on Mercer Street, getting on a motor bike, looking rather ladylike...

The Perfect Fetish Accessory

I'm a bit of a clothes horse, at least when it comes to work wear. Not a fashion victim, not a fop, and certainly not a dandy. I will, however, answer to dapper, pulled together, and well turned out. However, I am at a bit of a loss when thinking about an outfit for a fetish party. Not that I've ever been to a fetish party, mind you. Never been to a fetish party in my life. I do want to go, but the haunting question is what would I wear? Axe wrote recently about a guy's fetish dress for success dilema. For a guy like me, the trick is how to be different, yet classic.

While I have an outfit in mind, I think the perfect fetish accessory is the bow tie. Indeed, the venerable Wall Street Journal has come out and said the bow tie is cool and is making a comeback. That the WSJ is proclaiming a staple item of my workaday wardrobe to be cool may be reason enough to abandon it. But that aside, there are many reasons why I love a bow tie as part of a kink ensemble.

A bow tie is the perfect pervertable collar. You can wear it with a suit and look dashingly cool with that devil-may-care edge of nerdy chic. But shed your clothes and re-tie the bow around your neck and you have a colorful collar. I'm going to have the tailor at my local dry cleaner sew a D-ring into a black and blue bow and call it my perfect clandestine, pervertable fetish accessory. Tied tight and sure, a domme could drag me around a dungeon floor all night long on my self tied bow. During the day I could definitely wear this functional bow tie collar under a nice white shirt and pair it with a navy chalk stripe wool suit. The pervert just aches to break out of his besuited disguise.

As well, the bow tie bespeaks a throw back to a bygone era of service. Waiters, maitre'ds, old timey movie/theatre ushers all wore them. And they were real bow ties. Guys knew how to tie a bow. This skill evoked a certain masculine sartorial credibility, yet the whole bow tie thing is decidedly submissive. But no clip-ons, please. Club Fem, a lifestyle femme-domme group here in NYC, includes a leather bow tie as part of it's "uniform" for slaves. Sorry, but unless you're letting me tie my own, it's a deal breaker. A friend suggested I petition the group for a change in the rules and then offer workshops in the art of tying on a bow tie. Hmmmm ... we shall see.

I have a sixties vintage Sergeant Pepper-esque, drum major style tuxedo jacket in black and blue. I figure that, a black t-shirt, some rock 'n rolla black satin pants and a pair of ballet slippers would make a very nice fetish outfit. Top it off with my special clandestine bow tie collar and I'd be ready for anything.

There's just something wonderfully inspiring and classic about bringing a domme anything when wearing nothing but a bow tie - that I've tied myself. Classic...like Diana Rigg as Emma Peel. Oh to bring her anything, wearing only a bow tie