My first date with Steampunk Guy was last Wednesday. Aside from a tough day at work, I’d been in such a good mood looking forward to him, especially after he’d told me he would bring pie and Manhattans. (Drinks on a school night, naughty!) He was coming over for dinner and, ostensibly, a couch-movie. I’m not sure why I didn’t just say I was inviting him over for sex, since that’s what I meant. I guess we could have conceivably watched a movie.
He was right on time, and just as cute as I remembered him. Tall and beardy, with such a warm, friendly expression that he would fit in in a Rankin and Bass Christmas special. After my dinner debacle with The Man, I’d been worried that cooking for him was a silly choice, but this is a guy who can keep his phone in his pants.
We had a nice time talking while he mixed drinks and I made dinner. I have somewhat of a Mad Men fetish, so I love cooking for guys, and he suggested that that meant that heels would go better than slippers with the apron and cute button-up dress I’d chosen. I promptly went to change into some coral-colored polka-dot wedge-heeled slingbacks, and he was right, much more gendery.
“So you don’t have a Fet account anymore, does that mean you don’t play publicly?” He asked.
“Um, should I tell you the whole ugly story?”
I hate that fucking story so much. He’d already mentioned that he is a regular at the Scary Party so I tried to be as diplomatic as possible. I really had to take my time and choose words carefully because I could feel the dread and other ugly emotions start to tumble out—not a good look for a first date. I got through telling him without actual tears coming out.
“I think I remember that.”
“Yep, that was me.”
We took our plates and cocktails out to the pretty bistro table in my apartment house’s side-yard. I was a gorgeous and just-warm-enough evening, but an icky silence came over us.
I said “So are you scared of me?”
He said he wasn’t. There’s nobody in the scene powerful enough to keep someone out. Your friends will always be there to support you.
At the time, I took that as encouragement—I’d been wondering aloud if I should wade back out into the local scene or if I’d be treated as a whistleblowing pariah. He thought that was nonsense just like Sweetie does, and saw no reason why I shouldn’t return to my beloved Regular Dungeon. I talked a little about the support I’d received at the time, even from strangers, told him that that support meant a lot to me, that it was part of what I like about kink in general.
But some mornings I wake up feeling too close to the Scary Party again, unsure if it’s really sensible to play with one of its regulars. The fact that he was aware of what the security staff had done and still supporting the place, can I live with that, even with a very casual playpal? If doms’ friends will always protect them no matter what, how is any submissive safe? That same irksome question again. I feel guilty that I’m processing it here rather than directly, but again, dark topic for a first date. Or maybe a necessary one when things are about to get spanky, I don’t know.
I don’t like the idea that The Man’s mess-up could cost me fun with other guys, and I hate the way that the dom dating pool shrinks of you rule out that party’s regulars—it’s very popular.
Back to the date, the conversation went on to cheerier things and I enjoyed talking to him so much. I love it when I’m so excited about someone that I kind of turn into a muppet. As Steampunk Guy and I chatted and ate, my downstairs neighbor and his little son came out to play in the yard and all of us were completely adorable-the platonic ideal of a summer evening.
The rest of this story is (I promise) very hot. He has the most AMAZING hands and his other extremities get gold stars as well. I’ll write my way through it and see where I get.
Next: Spanked before kissed.