: Febuary 2002 : Darklady
I want to kiss you. I want to hold you and kiss you
hungrily, lustfully, smearing that dramatic, sexy lipstick
all over both of our lips, 'til we look like we've been
going crazy in the blackberry patch.
didn't mean to fall in love again. I certainly didn't
plan on doing so. In fact, I fought against it every
inch of the way--until I had fallen so far and so hard
that there was nothing to do except admit glorious defeat.
The lies I'd told myself
and others--that his kisses were inferior, that his
appearance was not desirable, that the involvement couldn't
anywhere--eventually became too obviously false for
me to pretend to believe anymore. I had to admit what
was crystal-clear to even the most casual of
our mutual friends: that we were crazy in love with
one another. His kisses
were delicious, his appearance most desirable, and our
It had been an evening
of swing dancing at the Viscount (www.viscountstudios.com)
with my beloved Polymnos. A long black skirt and matching
chiffon blouse for me. A dapper suit and suspenders
for him. We'd agreed to attend the party of a mutual
friend before returning to our homes. Just a quick visit.
A bit of conversation. Perhaps a drink. Nothing more.
"I am but one person, regardless
of how much 'bigger than life' I may sometimes seem."
But this melancholy girl,
reeling from a giddy night of dancing, the abrupt termination
of a major work contract, and an unexpected "I love
you" as a
bid goodbye and returned home, had once again forgotten
to eat--but remembered how to drink. My last vaguely
sober memory from that night was the soft, sweet smile
of the man who would soon become the Keeper of the
Darklady as he offered up a taste of his Cosmopolitan.
In the morning, somehow
safe and naked in my own bed, I began to put the pieces
of the previous evening back together. My friends
assured me that I had much to thank this man for.
And they were right. I am told that although they
saw me safely home and tucked into bed, it was only
his kisses, only his reassuring embraces, were able
to soothe me and still my self-indulgent tears.
Never before had I
literally fallen in love. In this case, the landing
site had been at his very feet.
A year later, I continue
to be an occasionally melancholy girl soothed and
stilled by his kisses and embraces, as well as stimulated
and satiated by them. In spite of my Dark Haired Bohemian
Chick mood swings, I know that I am--for perhaps the
first time in my life--surrounded by love. The cautiously
thoughtful and deliberate love of Polymnos. The profound
and joyful love of my Keeper. The patient love of
my friends. The kinship of my comrades in erotic-lifestyle
writing. The fellowship of other horizon walkers whose
lives make our words real.
I am but one person,
regardless of how much "bigger than life" I may sometimes
seem. It is a very good thing that those who love
me possess so much patience, know how to share, and
derive pleasure and satisfaction from doing so. In
a world where many would make demands, I have been
given a gift. The gift of many loves--and all of the
glorious complications and delights that come with
a gift of such magnitude. After writing for so long
on a topic so dear to my heart, it's both wonderful
and terrifying to put the words into practice, to
balance the different (and sometimes conflicting)
needs of multiple kinky loves. There have been--and
will continue to be--many awkward moments along the
roughly parallel paths that we have chosen. But the
experience is worth the effort--and the rewards are
sweet and profound.
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