Bonnie & Clyde

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Amends

I've been a client for such a long time with enough different dommes that I would be well and truly fulla shit if I said I've been perfect. I've become friends with a few prodommes in the past couple of years and more than ever I've realized that I've often been a pretty jerky client. The Maxville board, with all its crazy problems, has been great for me to see how poor behavior on the part of sub-guys affects dommes in such an unwarranted, negative way.

I was never much for the protocol thing in my AA 12 Step program when I went, but I carry the Steps with me in my wallet. I remain sober and have been for over twenty-five years, but haven't been to a meeting in a long, long time. Just haven't wanted or needed it. But remembering all the times I was a jerk to a prodomme made me think of the "amends" steps - mostly Step 8.

Step 8 reads, "Made a list of all persons we harmed and became willing to make amends to them all."

Now, I'm not namin' names. Just a list of the crap I pulled which I'm sorry about. This is pretty lame but it'll have to do.

• I called and wasted your time.
• I called repeatedly and certainly qualified as a "wanker".
• I made appointments that I didn't keep.
• I wrote waaaay too many emails.
• I was overly dramatic. (Still am ...)
• My lists were way too long and controlling.
• I begged and whined and pleaded and when you finally gave me exactly what I'd been simpering for I didn't have the balls to go through with it.
• I broke my chastity vow without permission.
• I asked to be your friend before I ever even met you.

There ... told ya! I'm a jerk!! ... But I was never boring.

High Maintenance

I've decided I must be a high maintenance client. It's not that my taste in play is particularly extreme. I can't ever remember asking to be suspended from the ceiling by fish hooks and dental floss. I certainly don't come to the dungeon with a script in one hand and a megaphone in another trying to do my best Cecil B. DeMille imitation. And I never ever try and cajole her into doing something she isn't into. In fact, these days, after she gets to know me a little, I like to pretty much leave the scene up to her.

But nevertheless, I think I'm a high maintenance kinda guy. It's not that I ask this upfront, but if our thing's gonna work, I want to be my domme's friend. I want to get to know her. I want to spend time with her outside the dungeon. The rub is that I prefer that time to be untributed. Now, I appreciate that prodommes are professionals and that means it's a pay-to-play kind of deal. I understand that and am a fairly generous guy both with tribute and gifts. But, if she really likes me, doesn't she want to get to know me as a person? Shouldn't that want translate into time spent off the clock? I know, I know ... this has to happen organically. It simply doesn't work to ask, "Will you be my friend?", on the preferences checklist I fill out before we get down to the matter at hand in the dungeon. But an emotional connection is key.

Plus, I want it to be okay that I'm married. I love my wife and while things aren't perfect (otherwise, I wouldn't be Client Nine and a Half now would I?), I'd like to talk about the wife now and again because she's a big part of my life. I'm trying to figure out how, in a very limited way, to incorporate kink into my marriage. Maybe my domme can help.

In addition, I like correspondence. I remember writing to PO boxes, in ink, with a pen, by snail mail. Before the days of email and blogs and googletalk, I used to write letters to dommes. I like getting replies. I'm a bit compulsive when it comes to writing, but sometimes I turn a nice phrase. I admit to being a bit OCD. I know she has a practice and a life. But I like to write and get answers.

I think this all makes for a high maintenance kind of thing. Or does it?

Come on ... we could go out and do the twist ...

Freak Show

Yesterday, I took a trip to Coney Island with my new friend Mistress Crimson. We rode the B&D train from Soho where she was shopping at AP for retro bras. She let me carry her packages. I had been appointed to reconnoiter the outing as at an earlier dinner she was bereft that the Freak Show had disbanded. But in true urban scout fashion, I discovered the city had granted a one year reprieve from whatever the new plan is to raze all that gorgeous grit of a carnival-by-the-sea. So we made a date. Just getting there was delicious as I have this thing for trains, see.

We smelled the sea breezes, walked on the hot summer boardwalk, ate corn from Nathan's (which totally sucked - not what it used to be), munched pink cotton candy and she watched me, appalled, as I slurped a dozen cherrystones with hot sauce, lemon and horseradish. (everything I hoped it would be) We rode the Wonder Wheel on a stationary car; I clutched the cage as I suffer a touch of vertigo. I think she really liked seeing my hand grip the antique, cross hatched metal in real fear.

We talked all afternoon. I loved it. Out with a domme in the light of day. She said she liked being outdoors. Then we went to the Freak Show.

The MC, Dony Vomit, was a very hot, young, slender guy in a pair of brown, tan and orange stripped suit pants, matching waist coat and snakeskin boots. He sported a bowler hat and a handle bar moustache with curly cue ends. His head was shaved. He gave virtuoso carny patter.

He drove a nail into his nose with a hammer he swung while leering perfectly at us gawkers in the gallery. He brandished a power drill which he screwed deeply into that very same nasal cavity. He recited a poem he'd composed about a mouse trap and ended by triggering the trap on his tongue. We both clapped wildly at his skill and effervescent showmanship. He was big fun!

My other fave was Angelica , aka Insectivora, the fire eater. Her hair was a dreadlock tangle. Blue tatoos marked the right side of her beautiful, sweet face and cascaded down her body. She was dressed like a fire swept mermaid. She worked three kerosine torches and alternately swallowed their flame and lit them again with her fingers. She threw her head back with abandon and a hot tongue blazed from her full lips. I was in love.

As we left I said goodbye to this wonderful relic. It will be gone for good come September to be replaced by some santitized echo of Luna and Steeplechase Parks. I have a thing for old amusement parks, trains, clams and a boardwalk by the sea. And ... I have a thing for my new friend Crimson. We're friends. I'm that half step better with her.