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A few minutes, or half hour later, all is well when I see her face light up when she sees mine. As we drive home, I begin filling her head with devious visions that can only be concocted by an insatiable kitten with nobody to tell her no.
I’m sorry, or maybe I’m not sorry, but there is somethingliberatingabout sex. We shame it, we stigmatize it under any but the most proper conditions.
There’s something about being naked with someone thatisintimate. I do not deny the existence, or importance, of intellectual and emotional intimacy and vulnerability. But I cannot deny the absolute nakedness of, well, being naked. Why hide who you are, when you’re not hiding anything about your body? With its flaws, its scars, its bulges. Everything you hate about yourself, exposed. Some choose to try to hide their minds, their feelings— but when I see them like this, I see everything.
I think the person instinctively knows they shouldn’t hide anything from me. Like the time I was with this girl, and her guy, and afterwards she confessed that she hadn’t actually been with a woman before. Though she’d heavily implied otherwise before. They’re always honest with me by the end. This was one of the few confessions that still startled me, at the time, but I think I already knew. It didn’t feel like a surprise when she told me.
So while I appreciate her aesthetic beauty and her intellect, I am beyond grateful to be allowed physical intimacy with this gorgeous person. He’s late, which means we ought to have some fun with him first. And all my ideas and fantasies fall beautifully into place.
I place her directly in front of me. Facing the full length mirror in my bedroom door. This is just what he did to me, the night I fully submitted. He told me to undress and look at myself. He moved his fingers ever so slowly down my body, describing every bit of it, loving every bit of it. I do the same to her now, only with a bit more…interactive twist.
Slowly, I remove her clothing, piece by piece. Every time I remove an article of clothing, I take a picture and send it to him. A bit of a “here’s what you’re missing,” teaser. She happily plays along and allows me to do whatever I like to her, trailing my fingers over her softness and her warmth. I trace her lips with my finger, before bending down to capture her lips in mine. “You are mine,” I whisper. “Until he gets here, you are my plaything.”
* * *
He arrives around midnight.She and I are in the midst of play, clothing strewn and pillows strewn everywhere. It’s admittedly a bit of a mess. Oh, well.
I lose myself entirely in the energy of two incredible people that both adore me. It’s heavenly. I cannot possibly describe it, but I shall try. It is as if all the most delectable desserts swirled in the perfect combination in one’s mouth, with every bit nuanced and unique as it complimented the other flavors. Her hands gently move over my skin, his hands, hardened with time, dig into my shoulders. I close my eyes and I forget who is touching me or kissing me where, unless one of them reaches my mouth and then I taste them and absorb them into me, wholly. Feminine and masculine energy from both meld into each other, overwhelming my mind and body.
I wake up in the morning, blinking, and hear sounds coming from the guest bedroom. It’s her and him. I walk in, and he grins at me and pulls me towards him. “Hmph,” I twist up my mouth. “You and her come overhere.” And I walk back to my room, our room, and they both follow and…mmmmmmmm. Yeah, this is pretty perfect.
Nothing compares to this, not for me. No sweet, no luxury gift. What can be better than two amazing, beautiful beings stripped of all pretense, focused on nothing but your pleasure? Perhaps three? Oh, don’t be greedy, Kitten. Two is quite enough for you today.
Tomorrow you can have three.
And all this with the knowledge that, yes, she will leave, but he will not. I shake away that unwanted thought of her leaving, but I know she is a blessing sent to me. One that I cannot take for granted. And therefore must appreciate fully and without restraints today. When someone is in your life for one day, every single moment counts.
She is a beautiful angel. I cannot keep her bound to earth for much longer. But perhaps we have time for tea? Well, in just a moment. Yes, just one moment, please.
After we have our fill of playtime, we walk to a nearby cafe. I walk up to the restaurant door to pull it open, trying to be the gentleman. And then I see it. He guides her next to him and leads her to the door— and he holds her hand as he does so. He’s never done that before. Always told me he shied from public affection. It hurts a bit. I don’t like the feeling. I love him. And I care a great deal for her. She is sweet and precious. Why should I be angry or hurt by them? But I am.
But then before I have time to even think about being angry, we’re inside and laughing and ordering absurdly greasy food that is my favorite. And ordering cocktail after cocktail that we really have no idea about, but the names are just too fancy to ignore. Then I feel his hand, spinning me up out of the chair. It’s time to go, I see.
* * *
July 25, 8:30pm
Back at the apartment,she pops into the bathroom. I pull him to the bed. “I…I’m not angry.” I mumble. “I just. I saw you hold her hand. At the restaurant. And I guess, I didn’t think you liked that sort of thing.
He looks at me and he smiles. He puts his arms around me and squeezes.
“Kitten. It wasyouthat did that. You made me feel comfortable enough to hold her hand. I did it, because of whatyoudid to me.”
This sort of life. It changes everyone. Even someone as stoic as David. Huh. What a thought.Opening the door to Wonderland is one that can never, ever be shut. I don’t want him to shut it, either. I am too far in to go back now.
She’s back in the room and I’m on top of her and…..mmmmmm. I am realizing I still have a whole night and morning with her. What a delicious treat!
The next day, he drives us to the airport, while she and I discreetly enjoy each other in the back seat and David pretends it’s not distracting him from the road. I am sorry to see her go. Though who knows, she may come back. A comet makes its way around the Earth, but eventually, it does return to the same spot. Maybe she will, too.
* * *
July 27, 6:25pm
The next dayit’s back to business. All through the day, he makes me squirm. I’m not wearing panties, per his orders. He texts me that he has something special for me that evening. That I should work late. So I work diligently as everyone leaves.
He calls me into the office around six o’clock. Everyone else has gone home for the day.
“I have something for you,” he says, “If you want this, if it’s right for you.” He puts it in my head. It’s a necklace with a tree of life pendant.
