If this adventure feels much more vulnerable to write about, does that mean I’m making progress? I hope so.
Saturday before last, I went to a BDSM play party by myself for the first time. It didn’t happen the way I’d expected, but what did happen turned out to be one of my favorite things ever.
Before I start the story, it might help to describe myself. I’ve given myself the assignment of getting through this paragraph with out any judgments. Nothing about me is little. Okay, except my cute little sneezes, but I am a big (not natural) redheaded Amazon. I have big boobs, big hips, and we’ve already talked about the spankability of my not-little ass. I do have a waist, but also a belly. (I’m holding myself back here from writing about a million paragraphs about fat and gender and love. Stay tuned, I guess.) Men tend to gravitate toward the bosoms, obviously, but I think I like my shoulders best. I have a tattoo of a phoenix at the small of my back. I designed it myself back in 1995 after I escaped a housefire. I also have a little Valentine heart at the back of my neck, a gift from a tattoo artist I wasn’t very nice to. As you saw the other day, I have a little bit of a bruise/scar on my left forearm. On this particular night, I was wearing the same outfit I’d worn to the Photoplay story, but Sweetie had talked me into not putting a shirt on under my cardigan, just a turquoise bra. Also there were fishnets and pretty shoes.
I’d been to this particular group’s party before, just after my breakup with Bill. My first impression upon walking in was “This is way too safe,” which is partly because I have issues, but partly because, even in my inexperienced state, there’s something about that place that feels like training wheels. Maybe it’s because the crowd skews a little young.
My hope was to meet some new people and see if I could be in anybody’s supporting cast. Everybody always talks about how an available bi woman is like the holy grail, but this particular unicorn was feeling like a wallflower at the school dance. I just didn’t know where to start. I saw a few couples I would have been more than happy to help, but from the outside there’s something monogamish about D/S couples, (Yeah, I’m not gonna lower-case submissives.) something that looks impenetrable.
So I chatted with a few people in a friendly way. I learned that when people ask you “What do you do?” at a play party they don’t necessarily mean your work and art projects and such. Also, I learned that the word “torture” might have a different meaning within this context. I learned this when I asked “But who would want to torture nipples? They’re so nice!”
Anyway so I was in the middle of conversations like that when who should I notice but my photopal Q. I’ve decided that he should have a cute Kitten Calendar nickname, so I hereby dub him “Fireguy.” Fireguy had his table set up in the dimly/warmly lit stage area and was working some fire-y magic on a beautiful Pre-Raphaelite woman. It was very soothing to watch. I felt self-conscious about running into him—I didn’t want to seem needy or like I was going to take him away from what he was there to do. He very quickly put my mind at ease when one of the first things out of his mouth was:
“So what can I do to you?”
I was like “Um…fire? Ropes? Snuggling? Got any friends here you’d like to tie me to?”
And he said “No. I want to tie you up. And do stuff to you.”
Next time: First time naked in front of a room full of strangers. (And one friend.)