The Soft-Core Version

So last night the plans were set. I had stressed about my clothes. Forgotten almost to change into the 'nice' underwear before leaving my house and was having a hateful relationship with my chosen shirt. I hopped on the Silverlink at the time that Journey Planner said and got on the Victoria line no problem. This unfortunately seemed to put me at Vauxhall almost an hour before I actually wanted to be there. Ridiculous.

So I called T and chatted with her for about thirty minutes. Then I listened to my zen for about five to six songs before getting on the right bus at about 9:20 or so. I got to the warehouse at about 9:35.

I suppose I should interrupt by saying I know that this will probably sound like a strange story- but I'm a strange girl, and things in my world don't tend to follow the 'traditional' path.

So anyway, the arrangement had been as follows. After my email of Monday, Mr.Aloof and I had the IM chat and he sent me instructions as to what, where, and when. The paraphrased instructions generally followed that the workers would be leaving the building at nine. That I was to enter the building via the third floor fire escape. Make use of the toilet, etc. on that floor. He said he would begin reading at ten, that I was to come to the fourth floor (which had until now been off-limits) and sit by him and listen.

My biggest hang-up about this was the entering a room I had not seen before, approaching someone who would probably be able to see me, walking towards them and taking a seat (likely on the floor). Because I had no image in my mind of the space, and I hated the idea of walking while being observed, this was the thing that stressed me out.

However, it went alright. The space is fantastic, and I'm significantly jealous. There were candles all about, appropriate music playing, and Mr.Aloof sitting on the sofa at the end of the room. I kicked off my shoes and sat on the large cushion he had arranged on the floor in front of the sofa. He offered me wine from his glass. I don't actually think that any words were spoken.

We sat for a while. Adjusting to the situation. He got up to change the music. He stroked my hair. Kissed my face- though not on the lips. And eventually, picked up the book and began reading. I have never read Kahlil Gibran as it's not my usual style. It was good though. And pleasant to be read to. I would make the effort to read the entire book again at some point. He read probably half of it, skipping some passages. He said, upon finishing reading, that though he's read the book many times, he never noticed the use of the word 'aloof' in the text. It was amusing (as I call him aloof to his face).

And then there was more kisses and touching as I sat at his feet and the music played. Eventually he said softly to me that there was a robe downstairs on the chair and that I was to go down, change, and come back in the robe. I double checked on my way down, "Only the robe?" and he nodded.

So much for nice underwear.

It's funny to me which things stress me out and which things don't. I thought nothing of going back downstairs. I saw the yukata (Japanese robe) laid out on the chair, took it into the bathroom and stripped. I removed even my jewelry- after all, nothing is nothing. Folded my clothes neatly on the chair, the yukata tucked securely around me, though a bit long, and tied at the waist. I padded barefoot back upstairs.

Re-entering the attic he was standing towards the center of the room and there was a dark piece of soft fabric- a blanket perhaps, on the ground. He guided me to stand on it. Bodies close, hands roaming, kisses- but still none on the lips. He positioned me with my head bowed, hands behind my back, and began circling. I closed my eyes.

Ever so slowly through touches and caresses the robe was removed, and I stood on the fabric, in the center of the candle lit room, music engulfing, with my head bowed and eyes closed. I could hear him moving around me. I didn't want to watch. It would be too much. Already my senses were on overload. He stood before me again with a length of red rope in his hands and began to tie mine together.

I have only seen shibari (Japanese rope-work) on websites and such. I had never experienced it for myself. It's fascinating, and extremely efficient.

A simple tie, yet completely effective. I had not noticed I was standing directly under one of the roof beams. My tied hands were raised and secured. Still I preferred to not look. I felt the flogger trace along my back, my leg, my neck- alternated by his hands. I felt exposed but it didn't embarrass me. Then he began.

Much of the next two hours is a blur of experiences. The pain of being struck. The pleasure in being touched. The security and finality of the ropes (there were later, further explorations in the rope). It seemed an entire night passed in the span of a few hours. He never removed his clothes. And we never kissed on the lips, well, not until later that is- when he drove me home.

As Bill Clinton might have said, "I did not have sexual relations with that man....." but we all know what that meant.

'An introduction' he called it. Hm.... :)