I e-mailed NE on Wednesday night and told her to wear a skirt for our meeting Thursday night.
She did.
We had dinner and then came back and talked for a while in my study. We have a planned scene next month and we haven’t had a lot of time to find our rhyhm (I work evenings, she works days, and when we see each other on the weekends,we are almost always surrounded by friends). A lot has passed between us since our last scene – and the last scene wasn’t nearly as good as it should have been. Some basic groundwork would have to be laid down again for this to be the sort of scene we both wanted.
I knew she wanted to be taken down. She had called on Monday and, as she put it later, was practically bleeding over the phone in her need. I could feel the ghost of that need on Thursday, but it was buried. To bring it to the surface would be a fairly invasive act. And we hadn’t played on that level in a long time.
But I did it. I had her to the point where she was begging for more one moment, and the next begging to stop because it was too much. I had emptied her of everything but my hands and words.
I had planned to write out the details of what I did. To post what happened exactly. But there is a process that writing has on the mind. Writing forces you to edit. Even the most honest person will unconsciously put spin on their actions or thoughts or deeds in while committing memories to paper (or Blog). And as you write, your memories reshape into this written echo you are creating,
I’m not ready to do that. I need to be ruthlessly honest with myself about the things I did right and the things I could have done better. NE deserves as much – so that next time, I can use that understanding to benefit us both.
She could be in some trouble.