I told someone the other day that I am fluid….he really and truly has no idea.

At this stage of life it is difficult to grab my attention for anything other than my immediate physical needs. I’m just not that into you generally.

The lioness in me who hunts may seek out an attractive snack to eat, but for anything more substantial you have to be…..different.

You have my attention….now hold it.

Those were my words of advice.

Solid advice actually.

This particular person met the perfect storm of events, showed a little courage and was rewarded with my attention. That my friends is a pretty big deal.

He got my phone number on some G shit. I didn’t see it coming.  If you can surprise me like that, then yeah you’re gonna have my attention.

Then he did everything RIGHT afterwards. Things he didn’t even know he was doing right because he didn’t know me.

He has a presence about him that makes me want to know more and I altered myself to learn those things.

I.Talked.On.The.Phone.

Not just once and not just for a few minutes.  I mean like up until the sunrise, you hang up no you hang up high school shit. He didn’t know that I was looking for something wrong, and I was…yet each tidbit uncovered made me like him more. He impressed me. You can’t impress me.

The last time I was impressed was with a skinny guy in a white shirt and tie driving a Ford Taurus station wagon back in the 1990s.

I began to look at cheap flights.

Yep.

I hate flying.

I inherently understood though that the rarity of this connection warranted continuing things.  Continuing didn’t mean it was gonna work, it just meant there was enough for me to want to see more.

Worst case scenario it would be a bust, I get to see a new city and I can segregate him back to the work phone and not worry about the cell.  It’s not like he is in the Philly office after all, he’s far enough away and in a different enough department that even if I hate my experience and he tells the world about the experience it won’t stop my progress. It’s not like I am Trixie fucking for $11.50 and hour.

He was well on the way to getting the pussy though.  Not just the regular pussy, which I might state is exceptional, but the SLAVE pussy.

Despite this guy’s novice knowledge about the lifestyle, he’s been doing it anyhow.  I remember those days. That was me once upon a time. Yes I want the S&M but the bottom line is I can show you how to beat me if I have to, I can’t show you how to compel submission from me, you either do or you don’t.

A funny thing happened along the way though, I saw a flash of his temper.

Mind you after Andrea, the courtship process is extensive now, MUCH longer and based on proof not instincts. While yes he was on the way to getting the SLAVE caliber vagina, my slavey heart was locked away safely. Which is another reason this guy was exceptional, he got me to see the possibility.  Yeah it was a year or more down the road, but I could see the possibility.

I was waiting for a LYFT and we were having a conversation.  When I got in the LYFT my ride mate was a drunk White man.  I don’t like drunk White men in general, I especially don’t like them when they are trying to talk to me while I am on the phone with a man I plan to assault with SLAVE pussy.

“Who’s that?”

Two words but a chill went up my spine. My pussy also got wet but that ho gets wet when the wind blows.

The flag that popped up was redder than Cardi B’s shoe bottoms.

If this were a man trained in the lifestyle I may not have reacted in the same way, but he is not trained.  The alteration in the tone of his voice and the death chill down my spine said Danger Will Robinson, this might be some shit you don’t want.

Yes it’s cute to hear your mine. Yes that slave girl craves ownership. Yes once that collar is on there is a place for that type of question. Nigga I haven’t even sent you a titty pic yet, this ain’t poppin.

My conversation turned to covert interrogation from that point forward.  Then I got the yellow light, Slow down…red is on the way.

He is not friends with any of his ex lovers.

Say what now?

I understand that not everyone is like me.  Not everyone can have sexual intercourse with their friends. Not everyone can be cordial to at least a few of their past lovers. Some people just aren’t built like that…ok.

It was more than that though, when we got to discussing the people in my life, some of them I’ve had sex with the hesitation on his part inspired some hesitation of my own.  I’ve been THERE before. I will never forget the night Reginald told me that Newark should not be in the house with me.  I will never forget how horrible I felt driving him to the bus stop that night. I will also never do that again.  Newark and I are capable of being under the same roof and not fucking.  He is my friend.  I also happen to fuck him though. I need to be trusted to exist within the parameters of our relationship
.  I need to not be separated from the people I love, one of which is Newark, to make YOU feel better.

Now mind you, when you see THIS:

I understand your concern.

If I weren’t committed to you I would be concerned. What I need from you though is your understanding that when I am all in that is what I am period. That man loves me enough to want my happiness even if it is not with him.  I love that man enough to never put him in a fucked up situation ever again. He’s not leaving my life, and you have to understand that he was here before you.

He would tell you from his own mouth we’ve slept butt naked next to one another without sex before.  He’d also tell you just how deep and wet my pussy is if you asked him. He’s a savage like that.

What we not fittin to do though is play that game where you think it’s cute that no other man or woman can look at me or talk to me or find me attractive.  That means you can’t be my man because I can’t bring you into my lifestyle circle.  I’ve ridden more than one dick there and if that is gonna cause you to use THAT voice? Nope.

You would be the type to punch every nigga in the face who has had their face in my pussy and that would absolutely get me banned from Weekend Reunion. Nope.

Also, that type of anger – irrational anger – that is the stuff that creates intimate partner violence warning videos. My man, we haven’t even been intimate yet.

So, we kept talking. I kept probing. Then it happened.

24 hours.

In his defense he doesn’t know me like that.

In my defense that is precisely WHY you don’t pull that bullshit.

The walls of Fetlife can tell you the story of how I feel about the ‘silent treatment’. If you’re trying to lose me, do that. I will personally tell you about my abandonment issues. Disappear on me and I have PTSD of Gei and I am running like Usain Bolt.

It’s now been 24 hours since I heard from you.

To the average person, based on the length of time he and I have been doing this ‘thing’ 24 hours is not a long time.

In my world though it’s a red light and a no outlet sign.

At this stage of ME I am not willing to wait an extended period of time for explanations of problematic behavior. I’ve been there and done that and I am not willing to extend the benefit of the doubt. I’ve lost too much and seen too much and hurt too much to put myself out there like THAT when there are signals I should not.

I might pick up the phone when he calls, because he is gonna call.

My response when he does though may not be what he expected.

That sexy fucking New Orleans accent be damned, baby girl be damned, that pretty penis picture I saw be damned.  [on a side note why do you all New Orleans men have such pretty genitals?]

I don’t know how he comes back from this.

I don’t know that I want him to.

 

Aphrodite Brown