Odds and ends not in my book, part 9
A Former Play Partner
At the Labor Day Shadow Lane party in 2004, I had one of what I call my “Oh my god, who is that” moments. Doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it’s powerful — I’ll see someone at a party, in a kink photo, etc., someone I don’t know, but to whom I’ll feel an instant, inexplicable attraction. In this case, he was chatting with a friend of mine, so I immediately cornered her and asked who he was. I’ll never forget what she said:
“Oh, that’s J. Isn’t he gorgeous? He looks like Orlando Bloom, but masculine!”
My dear friend wasted no time in letting him know I wanted to play with him, and he took me by the hand and led me into one of the suite bedrooms, where we had an awesome first scene. Lucky, lucky me, I then found out he was local.
J was younger; early-mid 30s to my late 40s. Smart, funny, very flirtatious. And while he enjoyed spanking, he had other passions as well: women’s feet, and tickling. Did you know there are tickling groups and parties, just like our spanko parties? Granted, tickling is not my thing. But I liked him. So we compromised; he could tickle me, massage and nibble my feet all he wanted, but he had to give me a damn good spanking too. I’d even make sure I got a pedicure before seeing him, so my feet would be soft and pretty.
His life was busy. He had never married, but he had two kids from a former relationship, and she was a bit of a flake. So, although it was supposed to be shared custody, he ended up with most of it. Plus he worked ridiculously long hours. So I didn’t see him very often. However, I have two standout memories of him.
We had a play date one evening; I was over the moon that he was going to make it, because he’d had to cancel the last time. When he arrived, he came in bearing a white paper bag. “What’s that?” I asked. “Oh, just a little present for you,” he said, handing it to me. “I felt bad about standing you up before.”
I looked inside and screeched with delight. It was a huge piece of my favorite cake, from my favorite coffee house/bakery. I recognized it immediately. I’d never told him about this place or that cake — how the hell did he know??
He teased at first, saying he was clairvoyant. But then he admitted that he’d spoken to a mutual friend of ours, and she’d told him, “You really want to blow Erica’s mind? Stop and pick up a piece of this cake for her.” So he did. And it was out of his way, too.
After we played, I offered to share the cake with him, but he declined. So I sat cross-legged on the bed in my underwear, blissfully scarfing this slab of cake, while he watched me and smiled at my glee.
Another time, he was inadvertently the cause of one of the hottest scenes John and I have ever had. We’d been to a local party, and J was there as well, so after it broke up, he invited us and a couple of others back to his place. He lived in an area with permit parking, so John and I had to park several blocks away.
When it was late and we were preparing to leave, J and I were talking about having another play date and he said, “Don’t forget that pedicure.” John overheard. “Pedicure?”
“She always gets a pedicure before she sees me,” J explained. “Oh, really?” John said, raising an eyebrow at me. I just shrugged. I mean, what’s the big deal? It’s a pedicure, not a bikini wax.
But after we left, John was strangely silent as we walked in the darkness. Finally, he spoke. “You’re getting pedicures for other men?”
(Now I knew, in my rational mind, that John couldn’t care less about this. But in the moment, it felt real, and extremely crucial.)
I squirmed. “Well, he likes my feet.”
“Isn’t that rather intimate?” I shrugged again.
We got to my car, and I started to get into the driver’s side. “No,” he commanded. “Give me the keys. I’m driving.”
Mystified (and nervous), I got into the passenger’s side. He got in, shut the door, and faced me. “If you can do special, intimate things for other men, you can for me, too. Take off your clothes.”
I was speechless. “All of them?” I managed to squeak.
“All of them.”
Mortified (and very excited), I slowly removed my sweater, sundress and panties. “You can leave your heels on.”
And then he drove home. I could not cover myself up in any way, and he deliberately took the route with the most traffic. All the way, he taunted and teased me, reached over to touch me. “What’s the matter? You’re shaking! Can’t you answer me? Cat got your tongue? Oh my, I do believe those truckers are high up enough in their cab to see that you’re naked.”
Finally, finally, we got home. I think we went from the garage to the bedroom in seconds flat. And I had such a powerful orgasm, I wept afterward. (Sorry if that’s TMI!)
Later in 2005, J got into a relationship, and we couldn’t play anymore. (sigh) Been there, done that. But at the end of 2006, I heard from him. He was single again, and wanted to know if I knew of “any strikinging beautiful brunettes in the mood for a little slap and tickle.” (Told you he was a flirt.)
By then, I was in a very happy play partnership/friendship with Danny, but you know me… always room for more spanking! After I replied and said I’d love to see him, he wrote again and said he’d call me between Christmas and New Year’s. He never did. And that was the last I heard from him.
What made me think of J, after all these years? Believe it or not, I stumbled across him on Facebook, of all places. I sent him a friend request, which he accepted. Last week, I dropped him a little note, saying it was nice to find him here, that I still had fond memories of him and I hoped life was treating him well these days.
Yesterday, I saw he’d replied. I figured it would be just a quick, polite note, “Nice to see you again too, hope you’re well” sort of thing. But it was three paragraphs.
What a turnaround. He’s now married with a new baby, and owns his own business. Looks like the player settled down.
His first paragraph read as follows:
Thanks, Erica. I still have fond memories too. Even though you may be known as a feisty wise-apple, you were always so sweet to me. Not to mention you would indulge me in my passion, despite the fact it did nothing for you. I had a lot of fun with you, and it was always a pleasure.
That made me smile. And tear up a little, too. Why? Not sure. Maybe because it reminds me of all the people who have slipped away. Sometimes, I wish these people were still realities, and not just fond memories.
But such is life. Blowing a kiss to all who haven’t gone away.