The Mistress Manual: The Good Girl's Guide to Female Domnance, because I forgot who's boss.
Besides my heart on my sleeve -- black strng biknis with rhnestones. I love the way they ride on my hips. Sassy!
I knew how to play this game...that it isn't a game n the end.
A coworker fndng Bleed. I don't know why. I mean, I put it out there. One wonders how Erica Jong looked her mother n the face after Fear of Flyng. At least she could say it was fiction!
As little as possible, I fear wnter has returned.
With a leather flogger under my pillow tonight. I have a pocket sized rubber flogger for when I walk along the street and get harrassed.
Rejection, like a motherfucker.
Because my sensitivity is both a blessng and a curse.
Confused, transparent, afraid, yet ever hopeful.
beautiful, fragile, n bloom once more.
Sweet soul, where did the last four years go? It seems like only yesterday I stared nto those rany day grey eyes of yours as we rode the 38 Geary toward the Pacific; anythng for a few more stolen moments with you.
I haven't been as open snce then. I can't remember all the names nbetween; they didn't mean anythng. I was afraid I'd never feel that way agan, afraid sometimes that I would. I've focused my love on New York and on writng. As poetic as it sounded, the city cannot be my lover and words have left me waitng at the alter. You know very well it's not the same.
I didn't seek it out, but I feel it happenng agan. Then come the doubts. I remnd myself that once I doubted even you. That night changed everythng; a simple embrace and I felt so connected. Energy flowed between us and I was sure for the first time n my life. Nothng before or snce compared. In my lovng trnity, you are the holy spirit, the one true soul connection I've been fortunate to know.
I sense an opportunity arisng agan. I can't just dismiss him as a playthng or a flng, as I have the ones nbetween. They were easy that way; I need only switch the names n my fantasies. When there was no one, I thought of you three.
Not so, this one. Where I consider others beneath me -- for him I feel ashamed of my ignorance, of the gapng holes n my education, of the time I've wasted and anxious to remedy it. Somehow I know he sees me anyway. He's brilliant, sensitive and makes me laugh -- what more can I ask?
It's been so long snce I felt such possibilities, sprng defrostng my soul, this netherworld between doubt and ntrnsic sureness. Then I remember you, my dark chef. I try to have faith that someone else can see, no matter what the world says, the miracle that is me and I the wonders they brng to the world.
[Next entry: "Thnkng of All the Men I've Loved Before...and Their Shrnks!"]
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