April 16th, 2000

Another fun night at the Wet Spot.

Gave Laura the voluptuous redhead a ride in - I'd found out she often rides the bus, and lives near me. Hazel was cleaning the kitchen when I left. Damn, it's nice. Cash and carry, not the same moral dues paid as if I'd cleaned it all myself, but if the bed gets made, the dishes washed, the laundry sorted... what's the difference? Anyhow, on in and got the night started off. I wasn't due to work til 10pm, but it's hard not to. I was moving furniture around and cuing music by 9pm.

The primary exercise I had to do tonite had to do with an attempt at a graceful ballet. My ex was there with a boytoy. I have no problem with that - he's a friend, and I admire her play and wish her well. She's a writer and I greatly admire her work, except where she feels obligated to mention me. The house rule is that no one DMs their own ex's, so I mentioned to her that while she was playing even if I was DMing the house, one of the other DMs would be DMing her scene. She's made it clear that my presence makes her uncomfortable so I wanted to do my best to lower the stress levels, without limiting my own life and activities unduly. I needed to continue to maintain my overwatch of the entire dungeon without my focus being an intrusion to her sensitivities. Also, since she's commented more than once, online, about the music at the Spot I solicited her choice of music for her scene, and played a CD she had brought. Bottom line, her reactions years after the fact of our breakup are her problem, but I try to take the high road. Last night appeared to be a no harm, no foul kinda night for us.

So, the graceful ballet. Luckily, there was much more to the evening than just that.

A charming young lady I'd met earlier elsewhere - a week or three ago, at a discussion group - came out with a real difference from the evening I'd met her. Then she had hid her glory in simple clothes. Tonite she wore an SCA type cleavage from here til next millennium bustier. I told her I was really glad I'd met her when she wasn't showing her cleavage, as there were many there last night who would never remember what her face looks like. At some point in the evening another lady and I kinda simultaneously discovered that this young lady reacts ... __wonderfully__ ... to sensation play. The other lady and I both had neuro wheels, those little testing things that doctors use, which have a wheel on the end of a handle, and spikes sticking out of the wheel. Gads, but it was wonderful. The two of us ran those things everywhere. She was so hot in her responses. We kept her moaning and quivering for 20 minutes or so. Alas, I think we'll play rarely, due to other commitments she has, but it was a "...we'll always have Paris..." moment.

Long about midnight I talked with a friend, R, and asked her if she would give me a good old fashioned healthy thuddy flogging between friends. It had been months, maybe years since my last, and I think she did that one too. No D/s, no fancy restraints or ritual observations. Just a sensation exchange. And she's a large strong woman, with a nice collection of rather significant floggers that she knows how to use quite well. She put on a CD of Jimi Hendrix, and then one of various blues artists covering Janis Joplin songs, and I stripped down, stood at the rack, and whistled or sang along with all the songs while she used them as pacing for her flogging. My apologies to the Gods and Goddesses of "the solemn manner in which things should be conducted", but it worked for us. She was more or less gentle with me [relative to what she __could have done__] but even so my back still this morning feels like a really bad sunburn. It had been a while.

Closed the circle by Laura the voluptuous redhead a ride back to her place. Hit Safeway for a few basics - and some cash back on a check, since my replacement ATM card is in the middle of those "3-5 business days". Got home and refried the left over carryout beef fried rice. Seems like these days tend to follow the pattern of a story, the way they teach you to pattern a story in creative writing classes. Introduction, build up slowly in minutae, peak, denouement, and all that stuff. Start with the little stuff, work up to the hotsy totsy stuff, taper off with more little stuff. You'd almost think that stories are based on reality, or vice versa. We may never know which is the chicken and which is the egg, eh?

Life continues good.

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