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xmag.com : Febuary 2002 : Darklady

Yes, 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.

--Keeper of the Darklady


I 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 possibly go
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 involvement rife
with potential.

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

distracted Polymnos 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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