Velvet: Round Two

For our friend’s birthday a year or two ago, Danielle and I so saturated our darling friend with sensation that he lost his ability to speak for a moment. I wrote about it because of how powerful the experience was. At the time, I simply assumed her energy broke through so vigorously all the time but I have since realized that, as with many, many other occasions, the long standing friendship and respect opened the floodgates. This is what happens when, over the course of four, five, or more years our clients earn our trust, respect, and friendship.

It started at a small Halloween Soiree where, among others, Tanuki (Caroline), Danielle, myself, and our mutual friend Velvet mingled. Someone made a joke about having all three of us for his birthday and you know me; my mind flew forward. A few words in the right ears and in a remarkably short amount of time (meaning a week or two instead of a month or two) we had all four sorted our schedules and settled the details. He brought donuts, I brought du fromage et du Prosecco (some cheese and some bubbles), Danielle brought little seafood nibbles, and Caroline brought a bottle of tawny port and some sweet Muscat grapes which just happened to be in season..

Standing around in the kitchen watching the four different energy levels rise and fall to meet each other, I felt a little shy, haha. For those who know me, you understand why I chuckle at that. We only have four hours and four bodies to work with and I have a lot of plans and I’m having a hard time getting naked! I mean, not too hard, but harder than usual.

Some friendly frottage and casual kissing leads all four up a flight of stairs to the massage table. Looking behind us I can see a trail of jeans, sweaters, and socks from the kitchen and I smile to myself. I’m not a fan of blow-by-blow recounts of personal, very special events; suffice it to say we made very good use of a solid, sensational, casual yet very sexy 45 minutes or so after which we all needed a moment to recover. Given the energetic combination it was a long, slow burn with some serious fireworks scattered throughout and I had as much fun playing with my colleagues as with our cashmere companion. With all three of us giving but not accepting touch, the poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

During the afterglow I made known my personal goal for the night: at our location was a large soaking tub with jets and a hand-held shower head. I led the charge up yet another flight of stairs into what quickly became a swampy, sweetly scented, bubbly, private steam room where we fed each other odds and ends brought from the kitchen and chatted. We all four adore each other and I have a tremendous amount of professional respect for my colleagues. With three and a half of us overflowing the tub and one sitting off to the side, we soaked until our toes turned into little pink raisins. I’d have stayed longer but the water got cold. Sigh.

On request and as a special favor, someone produced a jug of nuru gel and a waterproof mattress cover. Oh. My. God. That shit is fun. And messy. But fun! Round two of the evening was a playful, joyous, giggling mess. Less sizzle and pop and more goofy, sexy because we’re friends, chilly, frictionless, pressurized pleasure party. At one point, Danielle gave me a nudge and I swooshed from headboard to foot right between our friend’s knees! He planted a hand on either side of Caroline and myself and we spun like naked little tops over and over. We all almost fell off at one point or another but it didn’t matter, it was all in good fun.

We exhausted ourselves, stopped moving, and started to dimple with the chill so we all took turns in the shower and followed our trail back down, down the stairs into the kitchen where we donned the last few articles, gave our friend huge happy birthday hugs, and grinned.

I am incredibly fortunate to have in my life people willing to make time for pleasure and play like this. People I get to know over several years, people who listen and care and for whom I will bend over backwards to be with. At the end of the night, our grins weren’t just for the payoff, they were for the mere fact of our existence. That four hours fooling around was the most productive thing most of us did that day. That our lives are such that this sort of thing is not only possible, but happens easily, without effort or concern. We grinned in disbelief and in contentedness.

Special events like this can’t happen right away. Much of our willingness to orchestrate this get together relied on mutual respect and long standing relationships. Sometimes chemistry never does ignite and they can’t happen at all. But when it does, when we’ve racked up enough hours and become easy with one another while holding space for respect, then a whole world of possibilities opens up.

Wow. Just Wow.

I find myself for the second week in a row with ideas whirling and distractions aplenty and the desire to write a thoughtful piece present but low on my list of priorities.

Over the last week I have secured a venue for a party, had a fan-fucking-tastic duo with my good friend Claire, had a beloved client gift me a session with a colleague (I got to work on her), made some beautiful new connections over brunch, spent some time with family, driven across the state and back, stayed pleasantly busy with my beloveds, talked through some very complex thoughts, got inspired, got excited, got exhausted, and finally realized that it was Thursday and I haven’t written a post yet!

Alas I won’t get around to writing much more than this. My newsletter will have a bit more detail and a little hello from women’s marcher me but for now, I can only say thank you, until next time.

I’m off to eat some wholesome homemade chicken soup (yes, the noodles are homemade as well) and go out for some quality time with my parter and a single boozy beverage. I didn’t quite make it to my birthday without renewing my relationship with coffee, wine, and beef but I am being very careful and will continue that for the rest of my long long life.

Too much?

I’m writing an erotica story loosely based off a ‘could have been’ from back in college. My problem with erotica is that I never believe the circumstances leading up to the naughty bits. I might have overcompensated. Here’s an excerpt. What do you think?
The squeaky wheels of a loaded cart warned the girls of an incoming arrival. As if summoned by their naughty chatter, the subject of their interest entered the laboratory following a load of equipment destined for cleaning. While Matt wasn’t especially tall, he was well muscled, the slope of his shoulders visible even through the stained and acid-scarred lab coat. His thick dark hair was in that middle ground between wavy and curly and strong eyebrows framed striking green eyes.

“Good evening, ladies. I won’t be in your way for long.”

“You’re not in the way, don’t worry” Jenny said as she caught Rachel’s eye, winked, and grinned. “Actually, we were just talking about you.”

Rachel nudged her lab partner and gave her a warning glance but the only reply to her warning was mischief.

“Oh?” Matt flushed and busied himself with the autoclave.

“We were just wondering what it might be like to vacation down in Mexico around this time of year. I saw some beach photos on someone’s Facebook page. Looked fun.”

Matt’s blush deepened. He hadn’t realized someone had published the shots of him, bare-chested and grinning in the bright beachside sun, arms around a pair of pretty, richly toned girls. He was pretty sure there weren’t photos of some of his wilder activities while out of the country but these days you never know what’s on the Internet.

“Yeah. It was very… relaxing.”

The conversation lulled and for a moment the only sounds were the click of Petri dishes and the hiss of steam sterilizing equipment in the autoclave.

Jingling keys from down the hall announced the night security guard as he made his rounds, checking rooms and locking doors. “Hey guys, I’m locking up for the night. Are you about done here?” The security guard poked his head in the lab and recognized the occupants. “Oh, Matt, good. You have a key, right?”

“I do for the front door but not this lab.”

“I’ll just lock it and you guys can close it behind you? I’ll lock the front door on my way out so you don’t have to worry about anyone else; you’re the last ones in the building.”

“Sounds good, Steve. Thanks.”

Jenny nudged Rachel. In 10 minutes they would be the only ones in the entire building, sure of their privacy should they need it. As Matt continued his work, the girls had a silent conversation of meaningful looks and nudges. The seed had been planted by some Facebook friend, watered by the security guard’s trust and their isolation, and it was for them to successfully harvest the results.

“I like the idea of vacationing in a warm place. I never really did like wearing clothes but I’d be too cold to run around here in a bikini.” Jenny was obviously talking to Rachel as if Matt couldn’t hear but just as obviously loud enough that he could.

“Plus there’s the bonus of being in a place where you can do anything without worrying about what people think. If we ran around naked here we’d have to deal with what other people think” Rachel added. Though less forward with boys than Jenny was, the idea of snaring both her best friend and this handsome young man was too tempting to pass up. Her imagination was firing, her pussy starting to notice.

Jenny loved the chase as much as the catch and having her best friend as both wing woman and participant energized and emboldened her. “No kidding. How about you, Matt? Did you get to go a little wild when you didn’t have to worry about the cold or other people’s opinions?”

Matt had been on his toes since Jenny’s greeting. He was conservative in who and how he pursued but he knew enough of women’s flirting to pick up on the cues they were giving him. To say that he had never imagined what the two of them might get up to in the dorms late at night would be both unreasonable and untrue but his status as their teacher and his professional ethics prevented him from pursuing those daydreams. His moral compass was enough to keep him from pursuing but he wasn’t beyond being chased. “I did meet a few really wonderful people who I think shared your opinion on clothing. It was a nice change from the snowpants and parkas I see around here.”

“Oh I know. I’m looking forward to spring when we can see you in that t-shirt again.” Jenny had teased him about a t-shirt he had leftover from his high school days that still fit, but didn’t hide much. He had worn it under his lab coat during class once and after, she got a good look.

“What were you, the Tigers?” Inquired Rachel. “What a sleek mascot. Do you still think of yourself as a tiger?”

Review: Duo with Claire Wild

LOCATION: Our place on First hill
DATE: Several times; this is an amalgam
NAME: Claire Wild
INCALL/OUTCALL: Our Incall, but she offers outcall
AGENCY OR INDY: I can’t imagine her needing anyone else
ACCURATE PICTURE: Absolutely, and recent
AGE: Just turned 40 and is just hitting her sexual stride
PERSONALITY: I had someone describe her as glowing. I can’t argue with the truth!
RACE: Caucasian but olive complexion and very clear skin
BODY TYPE: Petite, slender
WEIGHT: I’m terrible at this part, but if I’m 135, she must be 115 or 120?
HEIGHT: A bit taller than me but not towering or anything
BUST: I’ve heard the term ‘a perfect handful’ before but until Claire I didn’t have a clear picture of what that looks like. I do now. Beautiful nipples that can take a lot more pressure than mine, that’s for sure.
WAIST: Slender and fit, gently curved both up and down.
HIPS: slightly flared from her slender waist, when I catch her backside in the mirror it makes me really wish I had a cock.
HAIR: Dark, almost black, cleopatra style but with waves
EYES: Slate blue eyes under those black bangs is striking and gorgeous
FEET: Clean and petite, painted
SKIN TONE: she looks tan but I think that’s just her natural tone. For me it’s perfect.
TRIMMING: She just discovered the Brazilian wax and is enjoying the novelty of hardwood
TATTOOS: None
SCARS: None that I noticed
PIERCINGS: Both ears and a tiny stud accentuating her smile-crinkled nose
MOLES: A pleasant smattering of beauty marks, nothing distracting
BIRTHMARKS: Nothing distracting
CLOTHES: She loves to dress up and keeps buying all these cute lingerie sets. We got to take a trip to that shop by the 5th Ave theater and she and I both walked away pleased, to say the least.
GLASSES: None During session but she does have them if you like that.
MOANER OR A SCREAMER: Definitely on the quieter side but neither he nor I had any doubts of her pleasure and engagement. We also talked about lots of naughty things the whole time.
ENERGY LEVEL DURING THE SESSION: Playful, coming and going, we definitely didn’t let him rest much, haha!
MULTI SHOTS DURING THE HOUR: Out of the two hours we three had set aside for ourselves, I doubt he was out of our hands for less than 20 minutes. One veeeeeery long, prolonged, slow burn complete with all sorts of arousing touches. I’m so proud of her skill!
ACCEPTS FRENCH: Not for us in duo but get to know her well and she may let you into her inner circle.
SMOKES: Nope, never and nothing
DRINKS: She does not, but she does love her bubbly water.
KISSES: Sweet, smiling, sensitive, sensual
FRENCH: FBSM but again, get to know her and see where it goes
GREEK: Pretty sure neither of us enjoy that regardless of session but we’re happy to give!
RUSSIAN: She’s getting much better with her hands, though those from nipples slipping across… Ahem, anyway
DO’s or DON’T’s: DO go see her, don’t expect your first time to reach the level of trust and safety she and I and our long time regulars have developed.
WEB-SITE: http://www.clairewild33.com
SCREENING PROCESS: References are simplest but she does offer screening similar to mine.
PHONE: She will provide at her discretion
RATES: 180/hour, 240/90 minutes, 300/2 hours, social time 50/hhr
RECOMMEND: Wholeheartedly! She’s learned so much so fast I’m amazed.
COMMENTS:

This will be a bit of an amalgam of the sorts of things we get up to. At first, our duos were me teaching her and getting her comfortable playing with strangers and new friends. Her authenticity and enthusiasm and of course new-ness was charming and fun for all of us to play with. She is just as into girls as she is into guys so duos with her are fun for the whole family 😉

A few weeks ago we got to do a little role playing. She and one of her beloveds invited me to play teacher. I dressed up in my corset and heels and, over a glass of red wine, watched her work and offered tips and techniques to add to her repertoire. Watching her slinky, tight body bow and lean and curve and wriggle all over him was a pleasure for myself and he sounded very much like he was enjoying himself. Taking my instructions drew out a little of the submissive in her, but more on that later. When it came time for her to focus on his cock I stepped in with a little hands on instruction, demonstrating my accumulated expertise on cock worship and pleasure. Oh we had fun and our poor gentleman friend was finally reduced to a quivering wash of endorphins and astonishment. I was impressed by her constant engagement, enthusiasm, and the little peek into her submissive side.

Then, just last week, we had a birthday boy! When a lady trusts a gentleman, she is able to walk the very edge of her boundaries without fear. All three of us walked the line that day. She and I daydreamed about a pair of strap ons that we could use on each other, he and I earned her permission to spank her, gently but firmly, until we could see little pink hand marks, she and I played with his body from head to toe, the whole while keeping up a giggling, gasping, triologue. It reminded me of my very first three way: my attention focused on them and their pleasure, using my hands and voice as tools to bring them to that sweet, sweet climax. He was conscientious, keeping hands where they were welcome and never pushing. What a rush! What pleasure! What joy and genuine affection and trust we were able to create!

Claire is a darling. She is somewhat new to this work but is learning far faster than I did. She is submissive by nature but has the wisdom and will needed to hold boundaries and keep herself safe. Duos are particularly good for exploring submissive fantasies with other ladies because we have the assurance of a fellow professional in case things get out of hand. I strongly suggest adding Claire to a session with your favorite lady or seeing her on her own. She is the kind of person who deserves and values long lasting connections and I feel so fortunate to have met her (and seen her naked!! Haha!!)

Honey, I’m home!

I’m pre-writing this before I leave but if all goes well, my flight lands this afternoon and I’ll soon be settling in, trying to beat jet lag. I’ll be back at my place Saturday and Sunday ready to resume my routine and bask in the afterglow of my amazing adventure!

In the meantime, I thought I’d share what I feel when I play with you.

First we talk. Getting to know you is so important for me. It allows me to intuit your mood, prepare myself to either hit the gas or slow us down depending on where you are in your body and it gives us both a chance to relax and become more comfortable with and aroused by each other.

I scoot closer and closer, draping my knee over your thigh, stroking your hand or arm, slowly making my move until our faces are only inches apart. What will it feel like to kiss you today? Are your lips soft or firm? Dry or slick? Do you meet gently and pull away or press hard? Do you have stubble? Will I notice if you do? I find out when our lips meet. That first kiss is always tentative, a silent question answered in the affirmative. My mind is on you, focused on the sensations my lips and hands and eyes feed me. Where have my hands been and where will they go? Can I feel your breath change and your cock start to rise? We slowly peel off layers, breaking contact just long enough for those silly awkward moments of stepping out of pants and remembering to take off our socks. I can feel your erection pressed against me through thin layers of fabric. I wish we didn’t need them but the small voice in the back of my mind is always aware and careful, protecting us from bursts of passion that might lead us astray, keeping us safe from regrets.

Finally I can’t stand it. Either I’m rising toward a climax or it’s not coming, either way it’s time to finish what we started with our clothes and move to my table, centered amid fairy lights, crooning lounge music, and sweet candles. We talk or we don’t, it depends on our mood. We keep our fever pitch up or we take a break, depending on our mood. I might transition to a soothing massage, gently kneading the muscles of your back and shoulders, working down each leg teasing as I go. If we keep up our high heat and you climax before long, we might cuddle and talk or I might use that rush of relaxing endorphins to work thoroughly into problem areas, hoping that the extra relaxation effects of orgasm prolong and deepen my therapeutic work.

But from the moment I first touch your cock to the moments after your release, hot and sticky and pleasurable, this is what I feel and think.

At first it’s dry, soft and silky, and I use the backs of my fingertips, absent the rough ridges of my fingerprints, to brush across the delicate skin between your thighs, caress your tender and sensitive sack, trail feather touches up the length of your shaft to linger and tickle right before it meets the head of your cock, growing harder at my touch. I’m observing how hard or not your cock is, how big, how ponderous, how full your sack is; I’m listening to your breath and your heart for particularly, unusually sensitive areas. My mouth is busy with kisses but those go on and off auto pilot as I send my attention to my hands, one pulling your hips toward me, the other settling your cock between us, our bodies together applying firm but dispersed pressure, a new stimulus, reminiscent of a warm pussy wrapped around you. Once I’ve a sense of you, I lead you to my lair where we settle in to whatever order or intensity we choose but once again, the moment I touch your cock again it steals my focus.

I let my erect, oiled nipples glide across the top of your cock, sometime pressing firmly so my full breast completely covers your cock, sometimes just using the tip of my nipple to tease that incredibly arousing spot right before your shaft meets the head. I’ve learned this spot. I call it your man-clit. Parts of your cock, like parts of my pussy, are more or less sensitive; that spot isn’t the spot that makes you stop stimulation immediately post-orgasm so it’s the spot I dwell on, gently and carefully, after I feel you come. But that’s later.

Right now, I’m lying next to you or atop you, our faces close, kissing or not depending on where you are in your journey toward orgasm. Your hands roam across my breasts, through my hair (unless I just washed it), cup my shoulder and pull me towards you, leave soft trails town my arms and across my back in the down moments when we’re not racing toward the finish line. One of my hands is stroking your cock, sometimes starting the stroke down, past your balls to between your legs. I’ve already checked your response to my hand getting close to your ass, I can feel the tension change either toward or away from my touch and I stay away or play closer depending.

I cup your sack, gently unless you tell me otherwise, letting my pressure vary as I play with your skin or your balls, then smoothly but suddenly sliding my hand all the way up your cock to pleasure with each fingertip that spot, that man-clit, and draw you closer to orgasm. I can feel your entire body respond with gasps or silence, tension and focus, or the relaxed disinterest that tells me to try something else.

Your body changes when you get closer To coming. Your kissing slows or stops, your expression turns inward, your cock gets even harder, your balls tense as they get ready to burst… That’s the moment I look for and that’s the moment I stop. I go back to playing with your balls, I lessen my pressure and speed or stop movement altogether, and I shower you with little distracting kisses. I want to lead you on, get you close to that edge and hold you there if possible. I want your eventual climax to be powerful.

I can feel the rigidity of your cock rise and fall as we come and go. I notice which way your cock bends and lies. I notice differences and similarities and appreciate the immense variety and yet core sameness of each beautiful cock. I explore with my palms and my eyes and my breasts your individual, personal cock and imagine what the ridges and slick smoothness might feel like in my mouth or pressing agains the walls of my pussy. My fingertips bring in such a wealth of information that it’s easy to translate those sensations into the fewer but stronger responses I feel during sex.

When I finally decide the time has come and I’d like to feel you pulsing and convulsing between us I focus my attention entirely on your cock. I’m searching for the tempo, area, pressure, and words that will bring you over the edge. I’m looking for that furious rigidity, that hyper focused expression, the full body tension, rocking hips, short fast breath and other cues that tell me I’m on the right track. My breath, too, comes hot and fast, my body tenses as I fight fatigue with animal passion, my mind, my hands, my body are all tuned into your cock for that series of moments, that incremental climb, that eventual release. I can feel your cock pulsing and I follow through with you, working areas of your cock and balls that I know don’t get as uncomfortable post-orgasm, playing with pressure, trying to prolong the waves of pleasure as long as possible.

It always takes a few minutes to stop our hearts racing and our breath panting. We’re sticky and sweaty with the aftermath of prolonged arousal and sexual activity. Damp towels warm first, then cool us off. Aftercare comes in the form of snuggles or a shoulder rub.

When I’m learning and working your cock, that’s what I feel: I absorb the sensory information my hands and my body feed me and it focuses my mind and my body so much so that, unless I’m busy fending off unwelcome hands (trust me, if they’re unwelcome I’ll let you know), my own body responds to your arousal, your climb to climax, and your orgasm. By working with your mind and body to create a more powerful and highly charged experience, I experience a more highly charged and powerful experience. I come vicariously through you and it. Is. Awesome.

So next time you wonder what you can do to pleasure me, this is the answer.

May The force Get Better

I know this comes months after its initial release but it’s come up a few times so I thought I would finally get it out: Star Wars: The Force Awakens was a shit movie. I love Star Wars. I think Luke is cute, I love Leah’s metal bikini and bad assery, I love Chewie and Han and the whole hero’s journey. The prequels were kinda lame what with Jar Jar’s ridiculousness but it was at least a new story about a character we were already invested in. Anakin’s dialogue may have been lame but there was internal as well as external conflict and we saw how one evil but creative politician can sway an entire governing body.

The Force Awakens may have better been titled “A New Hope II: Bigger, Better Death Star” since it was nearly scene for scene a remake, and a shitty one at that.
First: Han Solo. When I first saw Star Wars, Harrison Ford and my own father were about the same age. Han had that quick wit and snappy lines and that devil-may-care attitude. As I watched my father go to war, raise his children, and grow into a still snappy but far more invested, adult person, I also would expect Han Solo, now a father and a lifelong rebel fighter, to have grown up. The writers attempted to keep the best of both worlds and so failed doubly, writing cheap one liners and paying fan lip service one moment and overly dramatic, totally unrealistic family drama the next. Han Solo should have grown over the last 60 years to become either someone who totally eschewed all responsibility or a dedicated rebel fighter, steeped in Jedi lore and powerfully charismatic, a strong father figure to all his young rebel pilots. He would have been a legend, second only to his wife, General Organa Solo And the myth of Luke Skywalker.
Leah Organa Solo, trained in diplomacy from childhood, already a strong spirit, resourceful strategist, and powerful leader at twenty, would NEVER have taken some young storm trooper deserter’s word for it and committed the entirety of rebel forces to a suicide mission. It’s been suggested that she is force sensitive (I agree) and so she would have sensed his authenticity and intuited the truth of his plan. Which is great except that HE WAS LYING! No way would a force sensitive, incredibly skilled diplomat and strategist be fooled by some young kid’s need to be a stupid hero and get the lady hero’s attention.

Here is the better plot for “Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens”

Open on Rey doing her thing. Scavenging, driving her speeder bike, etc but we notice she’s unusually good at things, or more accurately, someone observing her notices and the audience overhears their dialogue. She is in the middle of fixing something and a tool is out of her reach. She reaches for it, strains to grab it, and it leaps into her hand, startling her. She greets someone before she actually sees them and there’s an awkward moment. She wakes from a deep sleep and items are floating in the air around her only to drop suddenly when she realizes what’s happening. She’s confused and a bit scared and her peers and community starts shying away from her.

Cut to Han Sol. He’s smuggling but secretly on a spy mission for the rebel alliance. He is in or near the heart of the Sith Lord’s castle or whatever or the Sith apprentice’s stronghold. The Apprentice and lord are talking and the lord tells the apprentice that there is a force awakening on Tatooine and it needs to be contained…. Or eliminated, mwahahahahaha! Han Solo: *whispered to himself* “Rey”

Cut to Han and Chewie escaping with or without their cargo depending on action sequence and heading for the nearest rebel outpost. He calls Leah. “Leah, they’ve found Rey. We need to reach her before they do. We need Luke” “He won’t help her.” “Yes he will.” “How do you know?” “A father never gives up.” We see over his shoulder a family photo on the dash of the Falcon with Han, Leah, etc. One of the children is obviously the Sith apprentice.

Cut to Rey getting in trouble with friends. Something major happens and she uses the force in a big way to save someone/thing. Her power is out of control and so something bad happens. Cliffhanger.

Cut to Han and Chewie landing on a remote planet. Maybe it’s even Dagoba. They go meet Luke and explain: “Luke, They’ve found her and they’re going to get her.” “I can’t help you.” “You have to.” “I can’t. A father’s love is just as dangerous as any other. Love leads to fear, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate. My love for her mother already created a rift in the force, I can’t risk another, greater disaster.” Han and Chewie leave in disgust. Yoda appears to Luke “A father’s love, Powerful it is. A jedi’s strength, powerful also.” Ben Kenobi appears. “You cannot risk yourself. This girl is a path to the dark side.” Anakin appears. “A father’s love for his child can defeat the dark side. Trust the force, my son.” Luke chases down Han and Chewie and flies off with them.

Cut to the Empire forces assembling. One storm trooper, the garbage man, overhears a conversation about the current mission, particularly that it’s a young girl who doesn’t know anything about the force. We follow him to his quarters and as he takes off his helmet we see an expression of internal conflict.

Cut to rebel forces meeting up with Han, Chewie, and Luke in orbit around Tatooine. Heartwarming reunion, meet the new young talented pilot, make a plan, etc.

Rebel forces descend to the planet in time to rescue Rey from whatever predicament the locals put her in (burn her as a witch, sell her to the local gross dude, whatever) but at the same time, Empire forces also descend. Action! Adventure! Storm trooper defects to Rebels and saves the girl from something dangerous!! Han fights his own son long enough to get everyone else away. Dies because he won’t take the advantage and kill his own son (but not in a lame, predictable, pathetic, eye contact competition). Handsome young pilot has to fly the Falcon. Rebels get away. Drama!! Excitement!

Cut to the Falcon. Everyone is sad as fuck b/c Han is dead. Rey is confused but Leah, grieving but strong, explains. Luke decides to take Rey as his Padawan and presents her with his old light saber. Storm trooper defector pledges to the rebel alliance, young handsome pilot takes over the Falcon as Chewie retires, inconsolable, to his home planet. Storm trooper takes over as copilot.

Roll credits.

Cabin Time

It is done. I write this on the penultimate day with only myself and my partner left to slowly but surely clean up after over twenty loved ones have come and gone. The beds have been stripped and laundry is running, dishes are clean and put away, food has been eaten, packed or thrown away, and only the last tasks of retrieving items left at the dock, cleaning the floors, and locking up are left. It is quiet, save for the whine of the drier and the sounds of my partner puttering through a myriad of little tidying tasks that aren’t exactly necessary but add that homey touch. The sun is out, slanting through fluffy white clouds rolling over the treetops. I’ll have to change into cooler clothes soon as the day heats up and my casual sweats and calf length boots get too warm.

My time here has been long and interesting. On day one we drove out from Seattle, I settled sleepily in the passenger seat, he speeding along to the tune of NPR and The Splendid Table. We settled in, unpacked, and set to work. I was not happy.

My first mental shift happened on day three. Driving out, I got into vacation mode. I was ready to sit back, drink some wine, read my book, and relax. Unfortunately, there were too many tasks needed to make the place pleasant for me to simply settle in quietly. There were flower beds to be weeded, holes to be patched, gutters to be cleaned, floors to be swept, and a dock to repair. I felt cheated, like I had worked hard, made money, and earned my vacation but here was more work I had to do! I moped and pouted as he ran around getting things done and in my feelings of being slighted, sniped at him spitefully. We went into town for some last minute errand running and the whole time I felt like I deserved something easier. Instead of the cool and clean communication we usually enjoy, I was passive aggressive and opaque. This started when we arrived, continued through day two and didn’t disappeared until the morning of day three. I woke up and decided to do some yoga. I have little book and went through the beginner poses for about an hour and by the time I was done, it was only 11 in the morning and I already felt accomplished. It felt natural to weed the flower beds while he sprayed sealant on the gutters and mixed cement for the patio. We chatted and listened to the radio and, though I was physically working, it felt easy. I scattered flower seeds under dark soil and watered the newly turned beds. I swept and raked and weeded the downstairs patio, removing the accumulated pine needles and leaves of the last year and yanking tufts of grass from the cracks. I finished it off with a few deck chairs and felt good and proud, like I often do after a session in which my skills clearly show. I had shifted from grumpy mode into cabin time.

Cabin time is an interesting phenomenon. You sleep when you’re sleepy, eat when the food is ready, fish for however long you want, drink slowly, chat lazily, move or sit still for as long as it feels right, and listen to the natural rhythms of your own internal switches. There are few clocks around here and even then we don’t pay close attention. The funny thing is, your body sets a much better time than you set by a clock. Alarms, deadlines, timetables, check in-check out, hurry hurry hurry all stresses your body so when you wake up, you’re tired and when you go to bed you can’t fall asleep. Out here, you just stay up talking until you feel sleepy and you wake up when you have to pee. I was up by nine or ten most days, except this morning because I stayed up until 1:30 talking about sex work and libertarianism (with friends who don’t know about my true profession, so even cooler than usual). Cabin time means giving your body the time it needs to reset and do what it needs to do.

So I was on cabin time, relaxing into tasks, constantly moving until my body is ready to stop. Now our friends began arriving. A few from our local watering hole, a few from my college days, and the next day my brother and his budding family. Tents started popping up and beds filled, couches got rearranged, people started mingling.

I got to spend some quality time with my brother’s new girlfriend. She and I are closer in ideology than she and my brother but his extreme sanguinity means that as long as they agree on the important parts, which they seem to, they should be alright. I played with my nephew for hours. We tossed a ball and chased each other around and I had the satisfaction of giving my brother some much needed time off. I also had a bit of a very powerful brownie provided by one of my beloved clients that made me laugh at the things a four year old laughs at which helped. I had brunch with my old college friends who joked about boners and bought pies to share with the group. We walked and chatted and renewed bonds several years removed. My mother spent a night, sharing a bit of time with her son, possible future daughter in law, and grandson and a lot of time with me and my friends. Who knew I could bond with my mother over a dump run, haha! I am more and more reaching a mutual respect with both my parents. I think the day is coming In a year or so from now that I can talk with both of them plainly about my profession and my passions. His brother came by with a five year old so once again I took over babysitting duties. We frolicked in the lake, getting on and off all the floating creations we use to entertain and support ourselves and exchanging a constant stream of dialogue. My mother chimed in “I would have more sympathy for you but you did it to yourself.” I think she also saw an echo of my own constant chatter in this curious child and it amused her to see me treading her own path 22 years ago, even for only an afternoon.

People began to trickle away. Flights departed, cars disappeared into the woods, and slowly the cabin emptied until today, when it is just Us again. I’m looking forward to when the work is done and we can look at this place with pride as we ourselves vanish back to the city. I will miss it. I will always miss it as a busy, relaxing, healing respite from the routine of busses and bodywork, missed connections and gridlock. It’s been three years since the first time I came out to The Cabin and I finally feel what he feels for it. This is home. This is a place where family fights, friends love, you work and relax with equal vigor, and the more sweat that goes in the more love comes out.

Rose has been watching my inbox for me; I’ve checked in now and again just to stay abreast of what is happening but for days at a time I’ve not looked at or for my phone. I think this is the final step in my disconnection. While I use my digital connection to the world for many things, it will no longer be a tether. I have shed the need to constantly check in, knowing that my world, generally, will take care of itself.

My moods and opinions, influenced by my time here with loved ones and finally negating the bitter input from TNA and some Twitter feeds, have swung once more towards faith in humanity’s general goodness and, while I am aware of the constant violence that rocks our modern world, I am not afraid. People die, the world changes, and sometimes it is rough but come what may, humanity will always live and most people, many people, are good and decent. I will continue to hold myself, my friends, and my clients to a higher standard of thought and behavior and I will continue to campaign for our right to mingle and entertain each other.

So here’s a glass of your beverage of choice, raised to good friends, the good of humanity, and cabin time

He Brought Me Wine

He had gray hair, tall and lean for his age, and he was carrying a small wooden box, oval, held together with tiny brass pegs.
“I brought this for you.”
This was our first meeting, always a moment of nerves, expectancy, wonder, and usually my own emotional pleasure. I enjoy impressing people with my wit and pretty face and you only get that first chance to make an impression. It’s also my chance to suss out a new client. Is he pushy? Will I need to keep my panties on the reinforce boundaries or will I be able to hover inches from his face, secure in the knowledge that he’ll hold himself back? Can I reach my taser?
“Thank you! It beautiful, where did you get it?””
“I had this old maple in my back yard that needed to be cut down. Turns out it’s [some special kind that’s got a gorgeous wavy grain but I don’t remember] so I saved the lumber.”
“You made this!?” I was astonished. I looked closer at the tight fastenings, the little brass circles flush with the wood grain, lustrous, bright, shimmering, and full of chocolates. “Did you make these, too?”
“They’re orange truffles. I hope you like chocolate.”
In two minutes this man, some seventy-something retiree, had made me feel simultaneously like an adored mistress and the laziest sod to walk the earth. The details of our meeting fade away but that stands out, as does our second and only other meeting.

“Would you give this to Adelle? It’s her label.”
He had just presented me with four tall, dark bottles, capped with a ruby wax seal. Labeled ‘Christina Rouge’, ‘Christina Cabernet Franc’, ‘Christina Cabernet Sauvignon’, and ‘Adelle Rouge’ and simple, clear labels. The three ‘Christina’ bottles had a simple silhouette, hand sketched with only four lines, of a woman’s curved ass and the outline of one hip. The one labeled ‘Adelle’ had a dark label that, if one looked closely, hid a demure photo drawn from Adelle’s website, contrast turned down low so it would be subtle.
“Now when you open this, don’t drink it right away. Give it at least a day or two. I don’t have enough barrels to do the full aging so it’ll need to breathe.”
Once again my aged client had shown me up, but in an even bigger way than before. He was dedicated to staying active and though I’ve never seen or heard from him since, I’m sure he’s still around. Or I hope, at least.

I opened one today. I had the first sips as I began to write this. It seemed fitting that it should spark such clear memories and that I should write them down while they still fluttered in my mind’s eye, one of many pleasurable memories my beloved clients create with me. The wax was difficult to remove and I prayed that the intervening years hadn’t spoiled it. It is delicious.

Rev: Duo with Iris Anelito and one lucky hunk

LOCATION: My place, but she has a place in Belltown
DATE: Last Thursday, June 9
NAME: Iris Anelito
INCALL/OUTCALL: My incall, but she has one, too
AGENCY OR INDY: I can’t imagine her needing anyone else
ACCURATE PICTURE: Yes ~ Her face is even more beautiful than the figure seen in her photos
AGE: Mid thirties, timeless
PERSONALITY: Perceptive, intelligent, wise, deliberate, sensuous… All I could want in a woman
RACE: Asian American, with the best of both worlds
BODY TYPE: Petite, slender yet feminine.
WEIGHT: I’m terrible at this part, but if I’m 135, she must be 115 or 120?
HEIGHT: Shorter than me!! That never happens, haha 🙂 but not by much, only an inch or two.
BUST: Perky, responsive, used to great effect
WAIST: Slender and fit, gently curved both up and down.
HIPS: Again, gently curved and firm.
HAIR: Black and close-cropped, framing a small, sensuous face
EYES: Dark, shouldering, inviting
FEET: Clean and petite, painted, sure
SKIN TONE: Amber honey, ripe olives, smooth to the touch
TRIMMING: Polished
TATTOOS: Beautiful, feminine ink flanking her hips and arcing up her back. Very visually appealing, enhancing her already toned curves.
SCARS: None that I noticed
PIERCINGS: I didn’t notice anything other than ears
MOLES: Nothing remarkable
BIRTHMARKS: Nothing noticeable
CLOTHES: Very professional one piece business attire, knee high teal socks, distinct absence of bosom support 😉
GLASSES: None
MOANER OR A SCREAMER: She had more… tactile occupations for her mouth
ENERGY LEVEL DURING THE SESSION: I’m having difficulty describing it. Not low energy, for sure, but not high energy either. Like embers, hotter than fire but hidden under a dampening layer of warm ash. All three of us were totally absorbed in the slow burn.
MULTI SHOTS DURING THE HOUR: Start with one and see if you feel the need to try for another. I’m willing to bet you’ll need a very long nap first, haha!
ACCEPTS FRENCH: FBSM only
SMOKES: I don’t think so
DRINKS: I’m sure she would but they were on their lunch breaks so unfortunately not this time.
KISSES: Oh. My. God. I haven’t been so stricken by a first kiss since I first kissed my current partner over three years ago. Soft, sweet, slooooow, erotic, arousing….. I can’t even describe
FRENCH: FBSM only
GREEK: FBSM only
RUSSIAN: She’s REALLY good with her hands 😉
DO’s or DON’T’s: DO read her website and go see her! She has a full personal life so take care to make a good first impression.
WEB-SITE: http://www.irisblooms.com
SCREENING PROCESS: For this duo I had a good regular to introduce to her. For her screening, see her website.
PHONE: She will provide at her discretion
RATES: 250/hour, 375/90 minutes, 500/2 hours, 700/3 hours (with nibbles and chatting)
RECOMMEND: Wholeheartedly!
COMMENTS: Some of you have already heard me say that women are like Cinnamon: a great addition to any dish but you wouldn’t want to eat a spoonful by itself. I like women as an enhancement and addition to heteronormative interactions but women by themselves don’t physically arouse me….. Until Thursday. Some combination of her soft, smooth, olive skin, her exquisite, teasing kisses, her brilliance, her full contact and the way her eyes smouldered at both of us… If sexual energy could be quantified, she would be the wealthiest woman in the world.

Traffic made her a bit later than she wanted to be, so the two of them accidentally walked in together. He with a big grin on his face, her wearing her shining, knowing smile. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on both of them, so it was only a few minutes before I stood behind him, she in front, our hands working together to undo buttons from collar to belt. Exquisitely slowly and yet in no time flat, we all shed our clothes and moved from the living room into the massage room and we laid him down on my table. Four warm hands smoothed fragrant oil over his back, his legs, from shoulder to toe. The details are fuzzy, as was my brain, but I remember her leaning over him to kiss me, I remember all our hands on each other, I remember her kisses and his kisses and their kisses and all our hearts racing and breath coming fast and heavy. I don’t remember when we turned him over, only that it felt like the right time. I remember he and I both so completely taken by the sexual power and energy that we couldn’t think or speak, only feel, only touch. I remember that she seemed like the only one of us who had any presence of mind left when he and I finally got our legs under us and started to get cleaned up! If the expression on my face was anything like his, then I looked dazed and useless for the rest of the day, haha!

I love duos, but I’ve never been in such a deeply arousing duo session before. Danielle and I chat and giggle and I just try to keep up. Adelle and I are focused on you and your pleasure enjoying each other enjoying you. Lauren and I are hands on massage therapists. Numina and I give and take, both still learning from each other. Iris and I…. I’m like a little puppy, following her, begging for more kisses and more time. She split her time perfectly between he and I, I felt, though I would have happily spent hours in her thrall. I highly recommend a get together with her, seriously.

Branding

I had a long time regular tell me that my marketing strategy was unusual. When I asked what he meant he referred to my Twitter feed and blog posts, most of them about how much I appreciate my clients and my work. I realized that, because my attitudes are part of me, and I am my brand, publishing my attitudes was building my brand. I hadn’t thought of it that way before; I started talking about how overwhelmingly great my clients are because I realized just how rare that attitude was. I thought, because of my experience with the (egregiously exclusive but also very kind to its members) TRB community, that everyone felt that way about their clients. Certainly that’s how it seemed. But after socializing with my peers a bit (and reading up on TNA threads) I realized that feelings ranged from deeply appreciative to actively angry.

I do not wish to dismiss my colleagues’ stories or feelings. Many, particularly minorities, have been treated poorly not only by clients but by civilian men and even friends or family. I cannot imagine the strength and professionalism it takes to give a client great service when in truth all you feel is anger or fear, or even emotions as mundane as boredom. Their stories do NOT inspire contempt or feelings of elitism. On the contrary, I am humbled by the sheer willpower of colleagues who have experienced nothing but abuse and contempt from the men in their lives and yet persevere for their families or for themselves in the face of PTSD or worse.

But I am a sponge, soaking up the attitudes of those around me. I am a chameleon, adapting my mood to my companions without even knowing it. If I recognize that one of my colleagues is venting* I can listen and empathize. However, after that I need to take care of my self and my own attitude. That positivity, that appreciation, shouted into the void (or Tweeted. Whatever) is partially a response to the end demand movement which claims my clients are evil and exploitative and partially me taking care of my own mind.

It is said that you need ten complements to counteract a negative statement and so, after any venting, I try to make sure that I recognize the overwhelmingly pleasant, respectful, kind, humorous, appreciative, sexy, sensual, well-intentioned, enthusiastic, responsive, intelligent, communicative, willing nature of my truly beloved clients. Because where one client is pushy, a dozen need invitation. Where one is entitled, scores are polite. Where one is blacklisted, hundreds are welcome back with open arms. This isn’t a marketing strategy, though that might be a great side effect, this is me protecting myself, using you, my beloved client, your joy and admiration, your laughter and passion, as a shield against that anger and apathy of the world.

*Venting: recounting a specific, negative incident in order to diffuse negative feelings and receive social support. “This client was pushy and it bothered me” Different from bitching: General, sometimes constant, complaining about nonspecific behaviors. “I hate it when clients are pushy!”