Oasis party in Vegas, 2022

I think I’m finally ready to attempt writing this. Sorry for the long delay! I hope I haven’t forgotten anything important in all the craziness of work and COVID that ensued after I came home. But better late than never. Settle in. Get a refreshing beverage. This is long.

It was a great party, I had fun, and I have zero regrets. COVID be damned. I needed to do this, and I’m glad I did. But of course, I’m also glad we chose to leave John out of this one. I would have been beside myself had he caught this. Me? I’ll live. He might not have.

Of course, it was a strange weekend without him. I missed him a lot. I had a lot of different moods throughout the three days there, and spent more time by myself than I normally would have. But I had prepared myself for this well in advance and was determined to go forward with it, with all the confidence I could muster. I tried to replace my nervousness with a calm curiosity — what would it be like? New party, new hotel, a lot of new people, flying for the first time rather than driving. I wanted to be open to the new experiences and feelings. And also… be prepared in case it simply was no longer the same. That was a very real possibility. Things are different. I’m different. It’s been a long time. But I’d never know unless I tried.

Friday: I woke up at 5:00 a.m. showered, washed my hair, blew it out, drank coffee, and finished packing. My flight was at 9:00, but I wanted to get to the airport two hours early, so I was on the road by 6:15. That felt weird — it was still dark out, and the roads were nearly empty. I made it to Burbank in plenty of time, found the Economy parking lot, and shuttled to the Southwest entry, where I checked one of my bags. I hadn’t flown since 2019, but the whole rigmarole came back to me and it passed without incident. I found my gate and then bought a bottle of water ($6 and change? Are you @#$%ing kidding me??), and settled in to charge my phone and people watch. A couple nearby had brought their dog! You know me and dogs… of course, I had to go over there and ask if it was okay to say hello. They were very nice, and I hunkered down to pet a very sweet, mellow dog with the softest coat (a Jindo, which is a Korean breed).

Flight was brief, which was merciful, since I could only find a middle seat and it was tightly packed. Plus, the young woman on my right kept falling asleep and laying her head on my shoulder. (Actually, that was kind of sweet. I tried hard to keep still and not disturb her. At least she was wearing a mask!)

I’ve never been to Las Vegas Airport. Holy crap, what a zoo! It was hot as hell, my bags were heavy, and I couldn’t find the Uber area to save my life. I ended up in the shuttle/taxi area, but then they told me I was in the wrong place and I needed to backtrack and go in another direction. (groan) When I found the Uber/Lyft area, it was mobbed with people, but I called for my Uber and they were able to find me. Thank goodness it took only about ten minutes, because I was dying of the heat. The driver was very sweet, helped load my stuff, and I collapsed into the back seat. “Do you need anything?” he asked. “Just air conditioning,” I gasped.

We arrived at the Tuscany Suites in ten minutes, and I went in. It was only 11:30 and check-in time was 3:00, but I had called beforehand to ask if I could have early check-in and they said it shouldn’t be a problem. After I got checked in, they directed me to my building. This was a very neat hotel, made up of separate, lettered buildings they called villas. Our party had three villas — C, F and G. The party suites were in building G, and my room was in C. Huffing and puffing, I managed to shlep my increasingly heavy bags to the building and to my room. Damn, did John spoil me — he never, ever let me help with the bags. I was lucky if I got to carry my own purse.

And of course, because I am a dork, I couldn’t figure out how to open the hotel room door. I had a card, but where was the key card slot you slide it into? (To be fair, there were key card slots in 2020, when I last attended a party.) I finally had to ask a maid, and she showed me where you tap the card. Oh. Duh. Finally straggled into my suite and closed the door, put the stuff down and turned around… and here’s the first thing I saw.

Wait… what? At first my addled brain thought they came with the room, but then I realized of course they didn’t. Somehow, John had arranged for me to arrive to these. Damn, I love that man. ♥ ♥ ♥ I texted him immediately, fighting tears, and thanked him. He, of course, denied doing it. (“Was there a card?” “No.” “Then how did you know it’s me?” “Because you never provide a card!”)

I then took stock of the room. In this hotel, all the rooms are suites, so this was much bigger than we were used to. It had a little living room area, a dinette and kitchenette along with two beds and the typical bathroom area. One thing I did notice right away — despite the wall unit AC blasting away, the room was warm. Uh oh. What was up with that? I did some scoping around, and figured out the problem. First, the AC temp was set too high. Second, it was on low instead of high. And third, there were two large windows in the room with blackout shades, but the shades were wide open and allowing the Vegas sun to bake the room. So I made all the necessary adjustments, and unpacked. (Yes, I unpack in a hotel room.) By the time I was done, it was around 1:00, and the ice-breaker/registration event I wanted to attend wasn’t until 4:00. So I figured, perfect time for a nap, right? Nope. Yeah, I was tired, but I was also keyed up and excited and overheated, and I just couldn’t come down enough to fall asleep. Oh well. Onward.

I found the room where they were having some ice-breaker games and registration, got my badge (which would be worn the rest of the weekend), and found a few familiar faces. Let the hugs begin! The party had actually been going since Thursday, but a lot of people came on Friday like me. I had heard there would be hors d’oeuvres, which there were, but I didn’t realize there would be a cash bar, and I didn’t bring my purse. I needed water, and a very lovely person offered to buy me a bottle. Thank you! ♥ Did some mingling, and enjoyed watching the ice-breakers — a spanking version of Musical Chairs, and then a truly demented scavenger hunt where we all got into teams and were asked to come up with the craziest things (your best drawing rendition of the Last Supper? Three different colored socks tied together end to end??). My team came in dead last — boooooo! But we gave it our best try.

This gathering was over a little after six, and the party suites would be open at eight, so I decided to go back to my room to chill out a bit. They had asked for volunteers to help during the party, and one of the requests was taking shifts as door guards, making sure only those of our party came in. (The security at this event was amazing! They were so thorough — there was no chance of party-crashers.) I had signed up to do the 9:00-10:00 shift, in front of the elevator. I figured it would be the perfect way to get to see everyone.

I changed my clothes, put on makeup, and headed to the G suites. The entire G building was ours and ours alone, so we could make all the noise we wanted. They had two party suites directly across the hall from one another, and so the guests meandered back and forth (and also hung out in the hallway when the rooms got too crowded).

What can I tell you about the first day/night? You already know it — greetings, greetings, and more greetings! A million hugs! Oh, that felt so good. There were faces I didn’t recognize, but also plenty of the ones I knew, and it was so good to see everyone again. I grabbed a spot on one of the couches while I could, and just observed things for a while until I had to go take my guard post. Each of the two rooms had bins filled with ice and water/drinks, plus other bins of snacks. All were portion controlled, individual packages, which made it a lot healthier than having communal dishes of candy and what have you. I think (?) they had beers, but the huge spread of all kinds of liquor was no longer. Which is for the best, I believe.

Anyway, I ended up next to a man who looked familiar — that happens a lot at these weekends — but I don’t recall meeting before. His name was Matt; he seemed to know me, and chatted with me a bit. He asked if I’d played yet, I said no, and then mentioned that I was due to do a guard shift in about fifteen minutes. “Well,” he said, “would you like a warm-up scene, first of the weekend?” He seemed nice — why not? I almost never do my first and last scenes with people I don’t know, but what the hell, I was doing everything differently this time. He took me into one of the bedroom and gave me a lovely hand spanking. And what was I thinking the whole time? (“Why have I not played with this man before??”) He was awesome! Perfect technique, and not super hard, which was just what I needed at the outset of things. Great start!

Then I was off to sit by the elevator. I was joined by JC, who was one of the security people for this party, and he and I chatted and caught up. I was right; sitting there was the perfect place to see everyone as they came and went. The halls were clamorous, with rambunctious bottoms striding up and down, singing 90s songs (Friday night was “90s night,” although I didn’t dress for it because I had no clue what to wear) and announcing that they could do whatever the hell they wanted. I got to greet lots of people, everyone who came by had their badge, and I enjoyed my shift, even when it extended past an hour because no one showed up to relieve us! JC went to find out what had happened, and it turned out that the shift change person was at the elevator downstairs! Oh well… no problem. I had been approached by a gentleman named Andy, with whom I’d played at the party in 2020 and enjoyed thoroughly. He asked when I would be sprung from my post, and he had that evil glint in his eye — what could he have in mind…

When I went back to the rooms and freshened up, he was waiting for me, and we went into one of the bedrooms to play. Oh, that was fun. He was playing with my skirt, slightly lifting it, yanking it back down, inching it up again, then down again… I said, “You know, you can lift that, it’s okay!” I mean, really, being spanked over clothes is so tedious. He just kept on teasing and I finally blurted, “Just lift the damn thing already!” (Oh, Erica, you’re so demure and ladylike.) And he did. A wonderful spanking ensued, and then, after he smoothed everything back in place, just like he’d done the last time, he swooped me up in his arms and twirled me around and around. I love that!

That was it for my play on Friday night, just two scenes. I was a little disappointed at the slow start, but figured I had to be patient. The weekend had just begun. Also, even though I knew the party was going to go long into the night, the long day finally crashed in on me and I started fading around 12:30. The FOMO part of me said, “Noooo, it’s too early, you can’t go, you’ll miss stuff!” But the reasonable adult part said, “There are two more days and nights. You’re exhausted. If you push to stay up later, you’ll just feel lousy.” So, I picked myself up and left, meandering back to my room. I think it was somewhere between 12:30-1:00 a.m. when I went to bed.

Saturday: Before I get into that, I should do a brief review of the strange nether region I found myself in at this party. I mean, for years, I knew where I stood at these things. People knew me. Or they knew of me. I had a solid group of regulars to hang with. I knew the drill of the events. I knew the hotel. Blah blah blah.

Now… all new territory. I was by myself. The venue and events were unfamiliar. And as for the group, that was a mix. A percentage of the people knew me. Another percentage knew of me. And yet another percentage knew neither — I was a stranger. And the weird part was that I didn’t know how those percentages fell. So every single time I walked into a room this weekend, I didn’t really know where I stood. And — I can’t keep emphasizing this enough — I didn’t have John to fall back on.

I suppose there are some thinking, “What’s the BFD?” That’s okay. I know I’m sounding a bit melodramatic. But those who know me, and know these parties, get it. It was weird. Not bad, not good, just… different and strange.

Anyway… I slept in on Saturday. This party had a lot of events scheduled all throughout the days. However, many of them were based on role play, age play, or both, and while those are hugely popular, that’s not a good fit for me. One event was for POC — I didn’t qualify for that. Another was FF — nope. So you get the picture. I didn’t attend too many things, so I had a lot of free time on my hands.

After showering and dressing, I realized that the day before, I hadn’t had a single proper meal. All I did was graze all day on snacks I brought to my room (peanuts, grapes, pretzels) a couple of hors d’oeuvres, and a Nutri-Grain bar in the party suite. I needed fuel. But… I didn’t have anyone to go to lunch with.

So what, Erica? You want lunch? Go take yourself to lunch.

The hotel had a very nice diner called Marilyn’s Café, and I meandered over there, getting a table by myself in the corner. There I sat, catching up with everything on my phone and enjoying a healthy breakfast. I’m not usually one to take pictures of my food, but I thought my breakfast was unusually picturesque. Egg white omelet with veggies, fruit cup, multi-grain toast with jam, and really good coffee. Great service, too!

Almost forgot — before lunch, I ran into M in the hallway. I had discovered a blister forming on my toe, which I didn’t want to get worse, so I had called the hotel to see if they had Band-Aids. They did not. But when I found M and mentioned needing a Band-Aid, she said she had some, so we went back to her room to get one for me. And then of course I realized I hadn’t put my badge on, so we traipsed back to my room to get it! (There was a lot of walking this weekend. Which is fine by me, since that’s the only working out I did.) Then I went with her to the gift shop so she could buy a bottle of water, and we parted company.

There was a vendor fair starting at 3:00 in the suites, so I went back to my room after I ate and got ready to attend that. Upon leaving my room, I saw Madame Samantha lingering in the hallway. She was waiting for assistance, having locked herself out of her room. I ended up hanging out with her until she was let in, and then went into her room and we spent the next hour chatting and catching up. She then headed to shoot with Sarah Gregory, and I headed down to the vendor fair. That was pretty low-key. But the main event of the day was ahead. On my way back to my room, I ran into my friends K and Adalia from Jillian’s Discord group in the lobby — they had come on a one-day pass so they could attend the Saturday night festivities. Enthusiastic hugs ensued.

The return of the ballroom dinner/dance! Dressing up! The Vegas parties had not done this for many years, so it was like a throwback to another time. They had a very cool backdrop set up so people could take pictures, and we were all encouraged to dress our finest. Soooo… I pulled out a dress I had buried in my closet, one I’d only worn once, and that was to a BDSM dungeon event. Over the top? You bet. Perfect for this? Yup. When it was time, I got dressed, put on full makeup, primped and fussed with my hair, and then I was ready to go. First, of course, I took a selfie for John, so he could be the first to see me.

Yes, it was covered with sequins. And you can’t see it, but it had a tie-up, corset-style back. How did I get myself into it without someone to tie it for me? It wasn’t easy. I had pre-tied it perfectly before putting it on, and then I just struggled into it. When there’s a will, there’s a way.

I made my way to the main building and then upstairs to our ballroom — gorgeous! People were milling around inside and in the hallway, and I greeted several friends. We all looked so good! Men in suits, women in gorgeous dresses — festive and fun! Here’s a shot with three friends — Jada on the left OKed showing her face, while M and S preferred to remain anonymous. Aren’t we spiffy?

There was a lot of oohing and aahing over each other’s outfits, and pretty soon, people were lining up to take pictures in front of the backdrop. My friend K was in a stunning, off the shoulder white sequined dress, and with me in a black sequined dress, I just had to get a shot with her. Can’t show her pretty face, but trust me, she is such a cutie! ♥

I also took a picture with one of my favorite tops, who I’ve mentioned in several party blogs — Roy. Soooo good to see him again! But he said, “Don’t put this on the internet,” and I must respect that. More on him later.

I wandered about a little, saying hello to people and exclaiming over their clothes. The stunning Snow Mercy was there — with her dog! A poodle puppy. Of course I had to pet her, and she chewed on my hand and gave me kisses. I saw Sarah G and her new hubby John Osborne — we talked briefly, and she said something unexpected that touched me. If I ever changed my mind about shooting again, they’d have me back in a heartbeat — she said no one plays the bratty wife quite like me. Damn. I’m not going to take her up on it — there is no going back — but that was sweet to hear. ♥ John took a picture of Sarah and me — she was in purple sequins — but I haven’t gotten that.

We chose our tables/seats and sat, watching people mill about the backdrop, greeting one another. I sat between Jada and TallAndStrict (AKA the artist formerly known as Ralph Marvell). I should mention that we hadn’t seen Jada in many years and it was such a treat catching up with her and hanging out. We first met her in 2009. Some things never change — these parties are such a whirlwind of faces, past and present, and they all come at you so quickly. I hope I’m remembering everyone.

The buffet dinner was very nice, with something for everyone, including vegetarian and healthy choices. And for dessert, they had an assortment of mini-pastries, all kinds of goodies, each one about two-three bites (yours truly took three of them, thank you very much). There was a cash bar, but I just drank water. I usually like to have a glass of champagne at some point at these parties, but I eschewed that this weekend, being alone. John always watches out for me when I get a little tipsy.

And speaking of John… in the spirit of honest reporting, the bad with the good, I had my first droppy moment after dinner. The music and dancing started, and people filled the dance floor. Not everyone went up there — in fact, it was the same small group of people who danced nearly every dance. Because the music was nearly all the same style. In the past, the dance selections have been a mix, with current blending with classics for those of us of the AARP persuasion. Not so this time. So I sat at the table, thinking okay, I’ll just talk with people, but it was too loud with the music to hear yourself talk. At that moment, I missed John fiercely. I wanted him there with me. And I could feel my mood plunging.

Okay, Erica. What now? You could stay here and be miserable, hoping for a different outcome, or you can exit, go back to your room, and get ready for the party suites. What’s it going to be?

I chose to leave. It was getting near the end of the ballroom time anyway. I’d made my appearances, had my dinner, gotten my pictures. Time to keep moving on. And to get some play in already!

I changed into a more casual dress, traded in my pumps for flat sandals, and went to the party suites, which were hopping. The night is a blur now, but I know I played three more times. The first time was with T&S, who I have not played with in many years. We had some fun reminiscing about when we first met, and how he’d autographed my butt with a Sharpie. I said I should have never washed my butt again, which cracked up the entire room around us. After that, I watched a beautiful double-team scene with Zoey on a massage table (they had a couple of tables set up in each suite, for flogging/caning/strapping scenes), and when I complimented John O. afterwards, he said, “Wanna be next? Hop up.” Sure! Hadn’t played with him for a long time either. It was a fun, floaty scene, lots of different implements and sensations, finishing with some caning (not hard, though — more sensual, which was perfect). Yum!

And then there was Roy. I was chatting away with a few people when I saw him come in. He caught my eye and winked at me, but didn’t approach yet. But I knew he would. Sure enough, soon, he walked behind me, brushing my shoulder on the way, peeked into one of the bedrooms, then gestured for me to follow him in there. “Excuse me,” I cheerfully told my friends as I exited the conversation.

As always, he was worth the wait. So good. Not a complicated scene, just a good long OTK hand spanking, but our chemistry is amazing. He could have gone on for hours and I wouldn’t have complained. Every time I thought the scene was winding down, he’d say, “Few more?” I’d say “Yes, please,” and it would continue. It was interspersed with caresses and snippets of conversation, easy, comfortable. I love love LOVE when a scene comes together so perfectly.

Sadly, I didn’t get to play with him again. The poor guy woke up the next day feeling sick to his stomach and he took an early flight home. (No, it wasn’t COVID; I checked on him later.) Maybe he had a touch of food poisoning. But at least we had one wonderful scene.

After that, I figured that was my high note for the night, so I didn’t play anymore. I did stay in the suites for a while longer, though. Piper plopped down on the couch next to me at some point and we had a bit of catch-up talk — she and JC are two of my favorite people. But then she was unceremoniously hauled away by Mistress Josephine for a caning, which she bratted all the way through. It was hilarious.

And there it was, that moment where you realize you’re tired AF, you’re running on fumes, but you don’t want to leave because you’re having fun and you might miss something. That hit me about 2:30 a.m., sitting around with a group of friends who all looked as exhausted as I was, but no one was making a move to leave. (“Lightweight! Sleep is overrated! The party is still going!”) But. I couldn’t sleep super late, because there was Strict Dave’s Spanking Court the next morning. I still had one more full day. So once again, Adult Erica took charge, and I bid everyone goodnight.

damn, this is long…

Sunday: After finally getting to sleep at nearly 4:00 a.m., the alarm the next morning was particularly rude. But Dave’s Court is a no-miss, a party staple. So I straggled out of bed, showered and dressed, and went to the hotel coffee shop for some caffeine fortification. Unfortunately, everyone else had the same idea, and the line was long. (groan) So I stood there, semi-comatose, and waited my turn, finally getting some coffee and making my way to the room where Court was taking place. I needn’t have worried about being late, though — there was a hiccup, a missing power cord. One of the party organizers had to hunt one down, which took a while, and we started 40 minutes late. But of course, it was well worth the wait. The usual assortment of funny, bizarre cases, and Dave was his brilliant, dry-witted self.

In the past, I have often been taken to Court for various bratty things, and always had fun pleading my case. This year, I was not. I didn’t expect to be, of course, but it still felt a little sad. It was also kind of sad to me to realize that, watching all the cases ensue, I did not know most of the participants. Ch-ch-changes…

After Court ended, the strange feelings remained. Once again, I felt at a loss for what to do next. Usually, this would be the time John and I went to a late lunch with our friend M or whoever else happened to be going. I tried mingling a bit, but it seemed that every conversation I tried to enter fell flat. No matter what I did, this was how I felt at the moment.

(Perfect image, no?)

I had one interesting encounter — the day before, a very nice man had approached me, looked at me quizzically, and said, “You’re kinda famous, aren’t you?” I laughed and made the “so-so” gesture with my hand. I guess he figured it out, because then he came up with me with a couple of young women in tow and enthusiastically introduced them to me, saying I was a “famous spanking model” and that I had been “immortalized” in caricature. He then pulled up a picture on his phone to show them — aaaaand there I was, in all my Dave Wolfe glory, from one of his birthday toons for me:

That was flattering… but also kind of awkward. I mean, that picture is fourteen years old. Shortly after that, someone accidentally bumped me and splashed a cup of water down the front of my sundress. (No biggie; it was only water.) And as I looked around, figuring that was my cue to leave, I didn’t see anyone I knew — people had dispersed. And I really, really didn’t want to go to lunch alone once again.

It seems every party has a moment of emotional meltdown. This was mine. All the insecurities, missing John, feeling old, wondering where I fit in, etc., etc., ad nauseam came rolling in waves… and I went back to my room and cried. Here it was Sunday afternoon and I’d only played five times, didn’t have a mark on me — that was unheard of. I texted John, saying it was a good party, but I was lonely and missed him and was struggling at the moment. At least I didn’t lose it in front of anyone. He texted back and then I settled down a bit.

Okay, Erica. Two things left — the afternoon pool party, and the Sunday night party blowout. You can sit in the room and feel sorry for yourself, or you can take a few deep breaths, shake it off, rest, and then get ready for the pool.

I had some snacks, then briefly napped. The pool party was from 4:00 to 7:00, so that was a nice break time and one in which I pulled myself together and was determined to make the most of what was left. In yet another burst of courage, I donned a bikini that I haven’t worn in twenty years, put my sundress over it, and went to the lap pool, which had been reserved just for our party.

Well. Things turned around after that. That pool party was so. Much. Fun. Of course, since it was an outdoor pool on hotel grounds, we couldn’t play. But we could make all the noise we wanted, be silly, say whatever wanted without being overheard. I’m not sure how many of us ended up at this gathering, but we all splashed around, playing water volleyball and riding around on inflatable pool toys. It was about 110 degrees, and the pool water felt exquisite.

And speaking of pool toys, our good friend IMLX had brought what is apparently the mascot of the Seattle spanking group — Sea Chad, the Wonder Whale. Sea Chad is gender fluid and has their own account on FetLife. I got to ride SC twice, once by myself, and once with two other women behind me on SC’s back. I do have a picture of that, but the other women in the picture wished not to be publicized, and they look so damn cute that I didn’t want to blur their faces, so I think I’ll just keep that private. But here’s a shot of me on a pink flamingo, with Sea Chad photo-bombing behind me. (Photo by IMLX)

Side note about Sea Chad: When I was riding SC, IMLX was pushing me around the pool, and he was going to back me up to get me away from the volleyball players. As he did so, he bellowed, “Backing up the whale!” To which I yelled, “Hey! I resent that!” (Yup, he’s never going to live that one down…)

I wandered about in the water, striking up conversations, and had several very nice ones. Saw one of the veteran members, Amy, and we had a sweet chat, sharing memories of Tony Elka. Got to catch up with my video hubby Stephen Lewis a bit. I also introduced myself to one of the party organizers (FetLife name Melville) and we had a great talk. She told me all about how this venue came to be, and how instrumental Eve Howard had been in helping them snag it. After we were banned from the Suncoast (and I still don’t know exactly why), finding a new, kink-friendly venue was a challenge. So this was a huge coup, and they worked hard for it, this new Oasis team. Kudos to them. I told her how impressed I was with how well organized everything was, and she was grateful to hear that.

I stayed in the pool until 6:45 and my fingers looked like prunes. Got out, dried off, put my sundress and shoes back on, and made my way back to my room. There had been hot dogs and grilled cheese sandwiches from Shake Shack provided at the pool, but I had passed on that. So once again, I didn’t eat a proper meal on Sunday. But it was okay. I had KIND bars and peanuts for protein, grapes for energy, and chocolate, so I had all the important food groups.

Here’s a bit of weirdness: right before the party, I had a fresh pedicure. (My polish was called Lucky Red; perfect for Vegas!) I went into that pool with ten perfect toenails. Nearly three hours later, I looked down and saw that the polish on two of my nails was completely gone. Not chipped — I mean gone. WTF? Did the chlorine eat off my polish? That’s a little scary. And so much for keeping the pedicure nice for a while! *grumble*

I showered and washed my hair, got into a casual Sunday night outfit, and headed for the final party later that evening. I had decided I was going to play through, and not go to bed. I needed to call for an Uber around 4:00 a.m., and there was no point in trying to get a couple of hours’ sleep. I’d just stay up until it was time to leave, go pack and check out, and go straight to the airport and home. I could sleep once I got there. That decided, I stopped by the gift shop on my way there for a 20-oz. bottle of Diet Coke, for the caffeine.

I’d made another decision. Throughout the weekend, I’d felt off and uncomfortable because I wasn’t getting a lot of requests to play. There were a lot of handsome young men, new to me, who I would have loved to play with, but there was no way I was going to ask them. And a lot of my old favorite familiars weren’t there. But by Sunday night, I thought, screw it. You want to play? Ask, dammit. The men are as intimidated as you are, especially in the party climate now, post #MeToo and the huge and devastating uproar that blew through our scene last year.

With that in mind, I found a comfy couch spot in one of the suites and struck up a chat with the man sitting next to me (FetLife name: Joker10). He was not new, but hadn’t been to the parties for a while. I had watched him doing a Florentine flogging the night before and was impressed with his technique. He was a lot of fun to talk with and we covered a lot of topics. He asked me if I liked flogging, and I said yes, very much, but it’s hard to find people who can do it well. He said he would be getting his toy bag later, and I thought, there you go, Erica. There’s your Sunday night end-the-party flogging. Lovely. I told him I’d see him later, and he said, “Okay. Behave yourself.” To which I said, “What for??” I mean, really? Was there any other answer?

IMLX and I had been chatting on and off all weekend and he made a point of telling me, “Find me on Sunday night so we can play!” He knows how distracted he gets and he didn’t want the opportunity to pass. So when I was sitting and chatting with Jada, I saw him come in, and beckoned him over. “So are we going to play, or what?” He assured me that we were, but first, he was being called upon to take a picture of someone’s scene, and then he was all mine! Okay… I waited for that, and then he approached once again, rambling about how busy he’d been and how time had gotten away from him as usual and so on and on… “Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, let’s go!” I interrupted. (You have to understand my relationship with IMLX — it’s much the same as a lot of the other bottoms. He is a great guy, a great player, and one hell of a great sport, because we all give him shit like you wouldn’t believe. But he knows we love him.) T&S overheard that, burst out laughing and said, “You never change, do you!” “NO!” I hurled back on my way into the bedroom.

Oh, damn, that was such a fun scene. It’s been a long time since the two of us played, and I have to say, his hand is wayyyyyy stronger! Years ago, we played at Boardwalk Badness and I very slightly assed his hand. (You’d think it was blistered and bleeding beyond recognition, the way the poor dear was carrying on.) No such occurrence now! But of course, variety is the spice of scenes, so he took off his belt too. Delicious. Wonderful long scene, loud and exuberant and filled with laughs. I felt that unmitigated joy once again. There is nothing like it.

After that, I wandered about the suites, had a bit more chit-chat, and then saw Paul Kennedy. You all know how much I love playing with Paul. I don’t know why I was being so reticent, waiting for him to ask — probably because he usually does. He has a way of just coming up to me in a crowded room and spiriting me away with a beckoning finger. However, when that didn’t happen, I thought, well, you wanna wait passively and see if it does, or do you wanna be proactive? Since the theme of the weekend was the latter, I asked him. And of course, he said yes, no hesitation. *beaming*

We chose a bedroom, I took down my cropped jeans, and settled in for a long OTK hand spanking. He built me up slowly, lighter at first, then adding in flurries of fast and hard, going down onto the upper thighs as well. After a nice long while of that, I heard him murmuring to me to get up, so I pushed myself up, and saw that he had laid out pillows on the bed for me to lie on. Then he showed me a wicked-looking two-tongue tawse. Gulp.

Without preamble, he calmly asked me a simple question: “Do you want marks?” I didn’t have to think about it. My answer was: “From you? Yes.”

Oh my. Ow ow ow. That thing really had a fierce bite. Especially on my thighs. I called forth all my fortitude for the last set of strokes, delivered evenly, measured, perfect. As Paul always is. ♥

Another side note, speaking of Paul: Have I mentioned how freaking adorable Alex Reynolds looked every time I saw her? I haven’t? Well, she did. It seems she is living her very best life these days, happily married and in love, a loving stepmom, a beautiful new home (filled with cats!), all the good things. It made me happy to see. It brought back memories of being at their wedding, which had been a complete joy for both John and me.

And finallyyyyyyy (Jesus, it’s about time, Erica) — I floated out of the bedroom, where I saw Joker10 wrapping up a flogging scene, so I plunked myself down on the carpet nearby and waited my turn. I didn’t have to wait long. After stripping down to my underwear, I laid on the massage table. He took one look and said, “Wow, you’ve been a bad girl.” Why, yes, yes I have! He asked some questions about limits, and showed me a pair of gloves with long silver claws at each finger, asked if some sensual play was okay with those. You know, I don’t usually like sharp things. They scare me. But there was something about this guy that made me instantly trust him. I can’t explain it; it’s just one of those things that happens, and I went with it. So I said yes.

WOWWWWW. My instincts did not fail me. J10 was wonderful with the floggers, and then, he ran the claws carefully over me — up and down my back, into my hair, down my legs, and yes, on my tender butt. It felt shivery and sensual and a little tickle-y and a lot very good. Perfect, perfect end-of-party scene. “What planet are you on?” he asked as he wrapped it up. “Mars,” I mumbled. He brought me a piece of chocolate for my blood sugar, and I took my time savoring it before I finally got up and put my clothes back on.

But wait, there’s more. (Whaaat? Oh, FFS… Sorry, readers. Just a little longer.)

Throughout the evening, I’d been running into Piper, who said that JC wanted to play with me (to which I said most emphatically yes), but he was working security and we kept missing one another. Now it was quarter to three and I was walking around saying my goodbyes. JC thought I was just saying goodnight — he didn’t know I was leaving for the airport. “Can we do a quick scene before you go to bed?” he asked. I said I wasn’t going to bed, this was it, I was on my way to the airport after I packed. “Oh, then we have to do a quick scene! I won’t make you late!” Sure. Let’s do it.

What a great little scene — did I mention I really love JC and Piper? He then announced, “I’m making this quick because I know your time is limited and you have to get going, so I don’t want to read anything on your blog about how JC sucks, that I end scenes too early!” I laughed… yeah, like I’d ever say that. You reading this, JC? You rock!

And then that was it, the final round of goodbyes. Went back to my room, where I had already piled everything up neatly, ready to throw into my bags. But of course, I had to get a selfie of my butt first! I mean, I hadn’t gotten any butt shots all weekend, and it’s not a spanking party without that.

Nine scenes in three days. Not as much as usual. But then again, I don’t know if I could have taken a whole lot more. And they were all good scenes. I’m not complaining.

Had to leave the flowers, sadly. Checked out, and then sat outside at 4:00 a.m., the air hot and thick and muggy, and called my Uber. They dropped me right off at the Southwest entrance, I checked my bag, did the TSA check-in, and went to my gate. What did I see right in front of it? A 24-hour Einstein’s Bagels kiosk. At that moment, at that ungodly hour, not having eaten and existing on fumes, nothing sounded more exquisite than a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with jam and a cup of hot coffee. So I waited in line, bought my treat, then sat down, plugged in my phone, and wolfed down the bagel. After that, I just relaxed, too tired to read anything, until my flight at 6:30. This time, I got an aisle seat. Good thing, because that half-hour squeezed into that tiny seat with my sore butt and my aching exhausted body was one of the most uncomfortable half hours I could imagine! Christ, how did I manage to fly home from shoots back East?? But then it was over, I got my bag, and shuttled to my car. When I staggered in my front door, it was 8:30. I sent a few “I’m home!” texts, and then I went straight to bed, where I slept six hours.

Aaaaand you know the rest. That was Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday I was slam-jammed with work, Wednesday night I started feeling bad, and Thursday morning I tested positive. I have been home for the past several days — no John this past weekend. I had a couple of really uncomfortable days, slept a lot, and then it dissipated into feeling like a mild flu or cold. I’ve been able to work, which was very good, because I was so busy. Now I’m caught up. And as of this moment, I’ve had no fever all day, I still have a deep cough but it’s not out of control, and I haven’t taken any Advil or Tylenol all day (whereas I took it around the clock before). So I’d say I had a mild case. Thank goodness for vaccinations and boosters. Oh — and if a positive spin can possibly be put on COVID? I’ve been too damn sick to feel any post-party drop!

It was a weekend of myriad experiences, old and new, happy and sad. Many emotions. But again, absolutely no regrets. I’d do it all over again.

I am damn proud of myself.

Thank you, Oasis. See you in February. ♥

Catching up a bit

Aside from the op-ed post that I copied and pasted last week, I haven’t written for a while. Couple of reasons: one, I’ve been too freaking busy with work. And two: what with all the godawful stuff going on in reality, it felt somewhat disingenuous and forced to post about happy spanky stuff. But life goes on. So I figured it was time to update just a little.

In the past couple of weeks, we’ve had two birthdays — John’s and mine. I had a bit of a struggle with mine, as just a few days before, my play partner and I had officially ended things and I was dealing with residual sadness. But John went all out to make it a happy time for me, starting with flowers a week early and then taking me to Walt Disney Concert Hall for the L.A. Philharmonic on the actual birth date. I’d never been there before, so it was quite the adventure. The architecture of the place is pretty bizarre (oh hell, it’s just plain ugly), but the auditorium itself is breathtaking and the acoustics are perfect.

My birthday flowers:

Full house at the Concert Hall:

We got all dressed up, and later went out for a nice dinner. It was a lovely birthday.

I got some cool presents too — lots of Beatles stuff! A Beatles clock from Lily Starr, a HELP! placard from Alex and Paul, and coffee table books and a poster from another friend (I’m not sure which name to use for her, so I’ll leave that blank).

Last week, I got to have a fun little adventure. Alex contacted me and said one of her clients wanted to do a double session with her and me. I’ve shot custom videos for her, but had never participated in one of her sessions before, so I was game. Her client was from out of town and had booked up a bunch of sessions with several of her friends, so mine was in the middle of three last Wednesday. I hadn’t seen Alex since Shadow Lane, and Paul since a couple of months before that, so it was great to see them again, even though I didn’t get to talk with them too long. Alex’s client was into role-play and we did two half-hour scenes; he turned out to be a lot of fun and I enjoyed myself a great deal.

Even better? Catching up with Alex, I finally got pictures from her birthday party last July!

Before this photo was taken, I had been trying to launch myself onto a floating pool swan… and fell over off the side of it, getting thoroughly dunked. I blame my innate clumsiness, and the vodka-spiked lemonade might have had something to do with it also. Anyway, I was hanging in the background while Alex was taking pictures, and she called out, “Erica, get in the picture. I don’t care if your hair is wet!” So here we are: Alex, me, Ulf, Lizzy McAllister, and Maddy Marks. Happy bunch!

And here’s a really nice shot of John and me, with downtown L.A. behind us:

Fun times. Anyway, work-wise, I dealt with famine for the first half of this year and now I am feasting to the point of gluttony. I get stressed when I feel like I can’t control my workload, but I’d rather be busy than not. Other stuff keeps coming up, appointments need to be made, but I’ll take care of them one at a time in the order of importance. One friend has been asking to meet me for coffee for the past several weeks, and I’ve put him off so many times, apologetically, that I finally decided I’m never going to find time, so I just have to make time. We’re meeting up tomorrow afternoon and catching up. Oh, and I have to break away on occasion to work out.

I miss playing. A lot. But I suppose the other advantage of being busy with work (other than the money) is that I don’t have much time to dwell on it. Even if I did have a play partner right now, I don’t think I’d have time to play with him! (sigh) So, that’s all on hold for now. Life feels a bit unbalanced, but things have a way of righting themselves. I am just going to plow on and hope for the best.

And hey, it’s almost the holidays! (Oh, fuck…)

Better late than never, I guess

I am buried six feet under in work and really don’t have time for personal writing, but you know, I just have to make time, before I forget it all. I don’t know who reads these party reports anymore, but I still like to get them down for memory’s sake. Settle in; this will be long, as I’m going to attempt to do it all in one installment.

Here is one of the many fun signs Joe made up for the party suite, and damn, he wasn’t kidding about this.

So let’s begin with last Wednesday. It seemed, for me, the party was going to end even before it began. As the afternoon wore on, I started feeling the ominous and unmistakable signs of a cold coming on. No. NO! Goddamn it. You couldn’t wait just one more week, you stupid fucking germs? I went to the nearest pharmacy and bought a crap ton of cold medications — cough drops, nasal spray, saline nasal rinse, decongestant, Nyquil. Figured if I was going to have a damn cold during the party, I was going to drown it in drugs.

Got home and decided to try to ward off the cold with the saline rinse, and commenced to struggle with getting the tight plastic wrap off the neck of the bottle. There was no pull tab, and I picked and picked but couldn’t get the wrap to budge. So I grabbed a knife and started trying to maneuver it between the bottle and the plastic… and slipped. And felt the tip plunge into the pad of my thumb.

Holy crap, the blood. So much of it. Everywhere. Who knew a cut slightly longer than a quarter inch could make a kitchen and bathroom look like a slaughterhouse. “It’s a sign,” I thought. “We shouldn’t go. I’m sick, I’m clumsy, this is going to be a disaster.”

But of course, I calmed down, cleaned, bandaged, and soldiered on.

The next morning, got the car packed and headed to John’s, and then we were on our way. I wasn’t feeling well, but my excitement seemed to be overriding it, so I took some meds and stuffed my purse with tissues. The drive went smoothly — well, almost. After we made a bathroom stop, John took out — of all things — a tray of sushi he had in the cooler for a snack. As John drove, I held it on my lap, opened it, and then reached out to my left to offer him the tray… at the same time he reached right to take a piece. We collided, the tray flipped, and a cascade of raw fish, wasabi and ginger splattered over me and across the passenger door.

Oh, and did I mention that the rental car agency hadn’t had the car I’d requested when I went to pick it up, so, in apology, they gave me a free upgrade to a Lexus??

Pulled over, managed to clean up the mess, back on the road again. Amazingly, I guess I got it all, because the car didn’t stink of fish the rest of the way. (And we thoroughly cleaned it with a sponge and soap later, once at the hotel). Despite these mishaps, we made it to the hotel in one piece.

Thursday night was the usual meet and greet, lots of hugs and kisses and squeals of joy (well, more like croaks, from me). So good to see everyone again. I tried my best to keep my hands germ-free (hand sanitizer), used tissues copiously, etc., but I’m sure my cold was spreading. The only thing that made me feel a little less guilty was that there were several others at this thing who had some sort of affliction or another. I wish I could name each and every person I greeted and talked with, but I know I’ll forget some and my brain is a bit foggy at this point, so it’s best if I don’t try.

I played just once that first night, and it was a quick, light scene, over jeans, with my beloved InspecterHide Michael. He is often my first scene at these gatherings, which makes me happy. He was with a young woman, new to parties and the scene, FetLife-named Ellie3, who was the most adorable pixie you could imagine, and was as sweet as she was cute. I was happy for her, watching her plunge in with both feet, experiencing everything the party had to offer.

We had brought lots of snacks to keep in our room, so we didn’t go to dinner that first night. Later on, Joe ordered pizza for us all, but I didn’t have any. My appetite had pretty much gone AWOL. I can’t remember when we left to go to bed — probably on the earlier side (read: before 3:00 a.m.).

Friday, the cold felt more full blown, but I got up, showered and dressed, and we went to meet a dear friend for lunch at Cheesecake Factory, hanging out there eating and chatting for a couple of hours, which was lovely. However, when we came back, I was full-on sick. So I crawled into bed at about 4:00, fell right to sleep. John woke me at 7:00.

Him: You want to go to dinner?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You want me to order room service?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You want to go to Joe’s room?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You just want to go back to sleep, don’t you.

Me: Uh huh.

So, with much convincing, John left to go join the party, and I crashed back into sleep, not waking up until about 10:15. Somewhat fortified by all the sleep, I decided to get up and make an attempt at an appearance. Since Friday night was designated as a pajama party in the main suite (optional, of course), I didn’t have to dress up. Put on a little makeup so I wouldn’t terrify people, and John came by at 10:45 to check on me, finding me ready to go. And so I finally came to the party, and even managed to do a couple of scenes — a second one with IH, who took me to his room (cool and quiet) and gave me a lovely strapping, and my first scene of the weekend with another one of my favorite people, CalNation (I’ll call him CN). I managed to do some chatting, because there were so many people I wanted to talk to, but a lot of the time, I just sat on the couch, curled up in my jammies, watching the scenes. It was the end of our second night there, I’d barely played, hadn’t even seen Alex and SpankCake yet, and I was so damn frustrated with this cold and feeling like I was only running on a couple of cylinders. I was determined to rally for the rest of the weekend, even if it killed me!

Saturday morning when John got me up, I could feel the difference. The cold had fully settled into my sinuses and throat, but I didn’t have that heavy, sluggish, sick feeling I’d had the day before. Time for fun! There were a couple of events planned for the afternoon in Joe’s room, and then we had plans to go to dinner with Alex, SC and her beau R (sadly, Paul didn’t make it this time, as he was in the UK). First, we went to lunch at DuPar’s with our friend Mir, and at 2:00, showed up for TTYL (a creation of Joe’s: Thongs, Tights, Yoga Pants and Leggings). I wore new yoga pants. Joe’s room was set up with a couple of massage tables for people to scene on, and I got onto one to play with SDSpanko, another great player with implement prowess. Among other things, he had an oversized leather strap that looked like it was more suited to flogging an elephant. Just to show how looks are deceiving — it looked terrifying, but it actually felt kinda good! Intense impact, but not super thuddy, and the warmth from it radiated and tingled. Yum. I also did a second scene with CN; I so love playing with him! He has this delicious way of gathering my hair in his hand, or pulling my upper body up close into him with his left arm as he spanks with his right. And he’s so damn cute. 😀

At 4:00 was Club Finn (named for the premier flogger for our gatherings, Fineous), which is sort of a kinky “spa time” for the ladies. We get massages, sensual floggings, hair-brushing (on our hair), champagne, raspberries and chocolates. The tone of the room calms and everyone is welcome to stay, but Joe said, “Guys, if you’re here, it’s best if you’re pampering a lady!” And so I took off my shirt (I was in a sports bra), and sat at CN’s feet while he delivered a neck, shoulders and upper back massage that had me melting into the carpet.

Quick nap, clothing change and makeup, and we were off to Alex and SC’s suite to pick them up for dinner. We went to HoneySalt, a restaurant John and I had never been to, but A & SC had and they loved it, so we went on their word, and a good word it was, too. What a cool place! Great service, wonderful food, and the company was perfect. The five of us laughed and ate and drank — I was fortified with decongestants so I wouldn’t be blowing my nose every five seconds. I even splurged and got a glass of sparkling rosé… which hit me like a ton of bricks. I guess, combined with the cold meds, it had the effect of three times the amount I’d drunk! A, SC and I shared an absolutely obscene dessert — a brownie, topped with a chocolate chip cookie, topped with salted caramel ice cream — and John and R had sorbet and port. John and I had another one of our collisions; he moved the glass toward me so I could take a sip, and I reached my hand out at the same time… and knocked the damn glass over. I was mortified, but John assured me it was OK.

Aaaand then there was the guestbook. As legend has it, last time Alex and SC were at HoneySalt, SC was a bad girl and wrote salacious things in the guestbook. So this time, Alex said she had to behave herself… but she didn’t. She started writing something, but the pen they gave her ran out of ink. So guess who pulled another pen out of her purse so SC could continue? (Raising hand) I suppose that makes me an accomplice. Anyway, I won’t try to explain what she wrote/drew on the guestbook, but Alex then took the book and wrote underneath: “I’m sorry!” I then grabbed it and wrote, with an arrow pointing to SC’s writing: “We don’t know her!” SC wrote: “Yes they do!” I wrote: “No we don’t!” And that’s how the guestbook was left. I don’t know we can show our faces in there again. But I’m sure we will.

Back to Joe’s suite for the night — the theme of Saturday night’s party was purple (for no other reason except that it’s Joe’s favorite color). So there were purple balloons and banners, and everyone was encouraged to wear the color. Not many men I know can pull off a lavender suit, but Joe did it. John found a shirt that was a sort of a maroon, which is close enough. Alex came in a purple cheerleader outfit, and SC was quite the stunner in black stockings, heels, and a black and purple corset. I had a dress in a purple print, and underneath, I was wearing a new purple bra and panty set.

(Here, I will sideline and apologize because I have zero pictures of my underwear, or of any of my scenes. I wish I did, and I regret it. But I guess I was off my game, wasn’t thinking ahead, and didn’t see to it that any shots were taken. Boooooo. But here is a fun shot of John and me; we were playfully slow-dancing to Bob the DJ’s music and our friend Sam snapped us. I like the dark effect! ♪ dancing in the dark…♫)

The rest of Saturday night is kind of blurry — no doubt due to meds, wine and general sick muddled-ness. Lots more talking and laughing. John Osborne and I went off and did a nice long private scene in his room, which was a wonderful break for me — I loved being with everyone, but the noise was making my congested head explode. I also seem to recall being spun around and bent over the bar top in Joe’s room, double teamed by John and IH. I cannot imagine how that happened.

Another scene was with a new guy who calls himself Mr. Woodland — what a hoot he is! We had a lot of banter and silliness, and I found myself wishing the scene would go on longer, but it was our first time playing. It seemed he enjoyed my bratting, so I was only too happy to comply and give him some, including giving him a new nickname (which I can’t say here, because it has to do with his real name. Oh well!).

At midnight, Joe had arranged for a presentation to honor Bob and Ariel, long-time party goers who, years ago, opened their suite to everyone and had extraordinary room parties. They had taken a sabbatical for several years due to health reasons, but now they are back, and Joe wanted to acknowledge their well-earned reputations as scions in our scene. A few people got up and spoke, including Mir and me, and the speeches ended with a poem Eve Howard wrote for them. Joe presented them with a plaque, too.

I keep thinking I had other scenes that night, but damned if I can remember. IH was leaving in the morning, and he and I were so hoping to get in one last scene before I went to bed. But unfortunately, he was committed to some others first, and while I tried to wait, it was getting late and I was running on fumes. So, reluctantly, I had to say goodnight and goodbye to my friend. There will always be next time. And with that, John got me back to the room and poured me into bed around 3:30.

Another side note: The energy at this party was high and positive. Even in my state of cold-ish blechhh, I could see this. Regardless of personal opinions and politics, and all the animosity that has gone down in recent months, it seemed to have all been left at the doorsteps. Joe wanted that, and I’m glad we all worked together to give it to him, and to ourselves. Like his sign said, we damn well needed it.

Sunday morning, after a shower and hair wash, I went to get us coffee while John went to the suite to snag us seats for Strict Dave’s Punishment Court. We had a full house for that, and he did not disappoint: the cases were hilarious. And of course, Alex took SC to court for her antics at HoneySalt (SC lost). John said she should have called him as a witness, because he would have thrown me under the bus and said that I gave her the pen.

Backtrack a bit — a few months ago, Alex, SC and I were shopping, and we came upon a tank top that we had to have, so all three of us bought one. The plan was for us to wear them at this party, named 50 Freaks, but you know how plans go sometimes. Poor Alex was so busy and stressed out and overloaded before coming, she forgot to pack hers. So, you’ll just have to imagine her as a third person in this picture (although she did take it for us).

SC and me, getting our freak on:

After Court, several people went for a very late brunch to a nearby bar and grill, but John and I decided to pass on that and just hung out in the room for a while until we were ready to go nap. Sunday night had no activities planned, just free for everyone to come and go as they pleased, so we lingered in our room, packing some of our stuff, and watching the last hour of the Oscars (what a crazy upset that was!) After that, we went for a light dinner at one of the hotel’s restaurants and at a little after 10, rejoined the party for the last night.

I think at this point I need to mention Michael Masterson. I thought we were going to play, truly I did. A while back on FetLife, he had written a post talking about how he operates at parties, and he said he never asks people to play. That if you want to play with him, a surefire way to make that happen is to brat him. So, because I figured it was time for me to grow a pair and face the Mighty Masterson, I bratted him on FetLife. And I got added to his personal list.

So, I’m not really sure what happened. We had several encounters at this party, lots of greetings. I was playfully sassing him throughout; at one point, I even reached out with my foot and nudged him as he was passing. He came over, hugged me and said, “Bad girl, don’t kick me!” I answered, “I was just trying to get your attention!” On Sunday night, I was sitting on the couch with Jaibug, and he came over, complimenting my outfit for the evening and saying he liked my glasses. Were they new? “No,” I replied. “I had them on last time. You just weren’t looking at me.” “Oh, that’s not nice, bad girl,” he scolded. Then he proceeded to pick up a purple balloon. “You’re getting three; count them!” he warned. And then he bopped me on the head with the balloon, three times, as I counted them out loudly.

After, he asked, “What do you say?” Without hesitation, I called out, “Fuck you, sir!” He pulled a paddle out of his back pocket and said, “Would you care to rephrase that?” Shrinking up against Jaibug, I answered meekly, “Screw you, sir?” I thought that was going to be it, but he just laughed, said I was too much, and went to get something sharp so he could loudly pop the balloon, now in my lap.

He did ask if I was going to the next big party, and I said no — it’s either tonight, or he’ll have to wait until Shadow Lane. “That sounds like a challenge,” he said, to which I answered, “Take it as you will!” with a cheeky grin.

But still, it didn’t happen. Was it because I was sick? Was he being cautious? Was he just too busy? I dunno. Whatever the reason, I remain still untouched by Michael Masterson. Damn. He was autographing butts this weekend and everything. Oh! Almost forgot — on Sunday night, when I was trying to maneuver around tightly packed bodies and furniture to reach my purse, I kicked over Michael’s beer, which was sitting on the carpet beside the couch! Ugh! I was so effing clumsy this weekend! Oh my God… I was afraid he’d think I did it on purpose to brat him! (The girls do the most outrageous things to this man.) He thundered, “Did you just kick over my beer??” but when he saw me with both hands clapped over my mouth, I think he could see it was truly not intentional!

Because it was the last night, and I was already sore, not to mention sick, I was trying very hard to make my best choices for who I wanted to play with. If I had been well, I would have agreed to more scenes, but as it was, I had to prioritize. I played with JC, because I like him so much and he and Piper are always so sweet to me. He didn’t use any of his implements, even though he had a massive toy bag. I’ve told him on several occasions that he doesn’t need a single one of those things — he’s got a hand that could make me say mercy, and I can’t say that about too many!

And of course, because it isn’t a party weekend without a full-body double flogging from Fineous, I got to indulge in that later in the evening, off in one of the bedrooms. Next to us on the other bed, Princess Kelley and Sir Siq were double-strapping the bejesus out of Maddy Marks, but I was so spacey and floaty, I completely tuned it out, although occasionally their banter drifted into my ear and I smiled into the pillow. The flogging relaxed me, took out all the knots and tension, and I felt very serene afterward. I got back into my clothes, but then decided to go back to our room to change out of my skirt, sweater and heels and into yoga pants and t-shirt, and I dispensed with shoes altogether.

More chat, more hanging out, more watching. Things weren’t even beginning to wind down; clearly, this last blowout was going to continue all night. All weekend, Joe and his girlfriend Mackenzie had taken care of us all, keeping us fed and hydrated, entertaining us, organizing us, making sure people were happy, and Joe had doled out plenty of spankings. Now, here it was 2:00 a.m. on the last night, and I overheard Joe said it was time for him to let go and become Malibu Joe (which is his code name — I have no idea how it originated — for getting blotto drunk). I can’t blame him; hosting these weekends is damn hard work! But I knew this was my last chance, so as he headed toward the bar, I intercepted him and said, “Noooooo, not yet, Joe! We have to play!” He laughed, and we were able to grab one of the massage tables where a scene was just ending. I lay on it with a pillow bolster under my hips.

As I’d mentioned, I was “out of shape” for this party. My scenes, while wonderfully enjoyable, were also somewhat painful. A part of me was wondering if I was going to ever feel like my old self again. And then Joe started. And the magic happened.

He warmed me up with his hands, then started in with implements, often using one in each hand. Floggers. Straps. That thick heavy strap that SDSpanko had used. Something else. I had no idea what it all was. The party went away, I closed my eyes, and all I did was feel and hear impact. I trust Joe 100% with anything in his hands, so I didn’t have engage any part of my brain being concerned about stray shots. As the scene progressed and he paused, my mind screamed, “Don’t stop. More. Harder. Please.” I didn’t speak, but I know I was raising my butt up higher, because Joe read me and continued. He checked in with me once, I said all was perfect, and we got even deeper into it. For that few minutes, I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t out of condition. I was in the bliss of subspace, the blows feeling like kisses. I could have gone on and on and on, even though guttural groans were now coming out of my throat and Joe was doing a finale of slamming his hands onto both my cheeks at the same time. Oh, so good. I collapsed onto the table, one foot hanging off the side, and just breathed as he massaged me, rubbed lotion into my punished skin. So. Very. Good.

Somehow, I peeled myself off that table (people were waiting to use it, after all), set my clothes to rights, and gave Joe a massive hug, sending him off to Malibu-land with my blessing. After that, I was so spaced out, I didn’t want to talk, so I found a free spot on one of the couches and curled up, wrapping myself in a warm blanket that had been left there. And I just watched everything for a while, until I was joined by MaMa Blue and a lovely young woman whose scene name I don’t know, so I will just call her B.

In retrospect, I should have ended the night there. I was played out, it was late, and we were getting up at 7:00 a.m., just a few hours from now. But on these final nights of these spanking/socializing extravaganzas, one gets a strong attack of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), and I wanted to linger to the last possible minute, wring out every drop of enjoyment and camaraderie.

But then something happened. No, not to me directly. But it was something that triggered me deeply, and I got very upset. I tried to brazen it out, but then abruptly I got up and left the room, going into one of the bedrooms. There, I guess exhaustion and sickness and the sudden tsunami of emotion overtook me, because I burrowed into a chair at the far wall of the room, wrapped the blanket around me, and wept. Quietly, but still. People saw me. There was a very intricate bondage/suspension scene happening on the bed, and I did not want to disrupt that. John, MaMa and B came into the room, sat around me, shielded me as best they could, so people wouldn’t see me crying. I kept trying to pull myself together, but then I’d break down again. John went to find tissues for me and couldn’t find any, so he ended up bringing me a roll of toilet paper. One sweet woman who goes by the name RBG (I call her Ruth Bader Ginsburg) subtly slipped over and brought me a bottle of cold water. MaMa showed me cat videos on her phone and sang “Here Comes The Sun” to me; such a tenderhearted soul she is.

No, I don’t want to say what happened that upset me. Because I know I will be judged for my feelings, or I will be perceived as judgmental myself. And I just don’t need that shit, you know?

I suppose I should have just left. But I knew if I did, I wouldn’t come back, and I so wanted to say my final goodbyes. So there I sat, for about an hour. Finally, at 3:45, I was ready to get up. But by then, I was so wiped out, my eyes were swollen, I was so tired I felt delirious, so I really didn’t get to make the rounds of goodbyes after all. The party was still in full swing, so I hugged the people closest to the door and then walked out, not even waiting for John, who was saying his own goodbyes.

Not a nice way to end a party weekend. I wish it hadn’t happened. But I also cannot let it taint all the rest. Because in the end, it balanced out, sickness and all, to be a damn good party.

And so, we tumbled into bed about 4:45 a.m., only to arise a couple of hours later. I was so wiped out, the room actually spun when I got up, and spun again when I was in the bathroom; it looked like the floor tiles were swirling under my feet. But once I showered, I regained my equilibrium; we finished packing, loaded the car, checked out, got coffee, and were on the road by 8:00. I think this was the earliest we’d ever left, but it worked out well. Even with two stops (snack and bathroom) and a grocery run for John, we got back to his place by 1:00. Somehow, I got myself home, brought the rental back (bye bye, Lexus! You were luxurious!), settled in and collapsed, sleeping all afternoon and well into the evening.

Tuesday I lay low. I was still processing what had happened, and I was sick as a dog now. But by Wednesday, I had recovered enough to get back to work and start catching up with online stuff. I even exercised a bit, although there was no way I was going to the gym, not with all the hacking and sniffling I was doing.

I was plenty sore, but unmarked. Still, I find myself afflicted with “sandpaper butt,” so I guess I’ll need to exfoliate in the shower at some point! So, so happy to play again. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it.

Back to reality. My entire March is slammed with work, and I don’t think there will be much down time. It’s OK. I had my play time. And I need the focus, because it keeps me (somewhat, anyway) out of trouble. So I don’t know how much posting I’ll be doing. This is it for a while, I think.

For everyone who talked to me, played with me, hugged me and cuddled with me despite my having the plague, laughed with me, ate with me, made me forget life for a while… thank you. I love you all so much. Joe and Kenzie, “thank you” isn’t enough for all you did for us, and continue to do. MaMa and B, for your compassion and support when I was in a bad way, I am so grateful. And if I forgot anyone I played with, I am SO sorry. If need be, I’ll come back and edit, add stuff I omitted.

On a final note: three women, on three separate occasions during the weekend, unexpectedly said very sweet things to me, so kind and genuine that I was nearly touched to tears each time. To The Bad Alex (yeah, I know you renamed yourself The Real Good Alex, but we all know that’s BS), Ashley, and Sum_Nightsdream, thank you, ladies. ♥

Thanks for reading, if you’ve gotten this far. Have a good weekend, y’all.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, End of Year Edition, and more

Greetings, readers. As this will be my last post of 2016, I thought I’d present a hodgepodge of treats for you. So grab a beverage of your choice, whack off a chunk of that stale fruitcake with a hacksaw, and settle in.

First up, a few CHoS entries:

Mmmmmmm
I swear this sounds lile so fucking fun and a turn on
Lolol love it when a women love other thing beside sex 
You do have a sexy ass that should always be SMACK!! Good when that se,y booty is out

Uh… what? I’m sorry, I’m not bilingual; I don’t speak Moronese.

hi cutie, my name is Xxx and we have the same sexual interests.. I enjoy passionate kissing, foreplay, oral sex, anal sex, FWB, LTR, BDSM, role playing and doing anything to please you. I would love to explore every inch of your body with my hands and tongue. I like hard and fast sex, but prefer marathon all night sex.. I may be older than what you are looking for, but age is just a number and PLEASURE, weather it comes from yourself, someone younger, or older, is still PLEASURE. I am always horny and available. If this is what you are looking for, check my profile to see if we match and message me back

I don’t know whose profile you were reading, but it wasn’t mine, since mine said I wasn’t seeking sex. Yes, age is just a number, and so is IQ. Yours, apparently, is in the double digits.

You may have seen this comment before, since it was left right here on this blog. I thought it deserves its own special message. What a shame this person thinks they’re so clever.

I bet you only get spanked on the left side of your ass

Wrong again, Breitbart Breath, as is evidenced by this recent photo:

And finally, to my special hater out there: Really? You think my last blog was all about little ol’ you? Tsk… now who’s vain, hmmm? My upbringing in the “entertainment world” had nothing to do with my political views — I am a well-educated woman and I have a mind of my own — so you may can the condescending claptrap. But hey, thanks for saying I have a pretty face. I do believe that’s the first time in all these years that you’ve ever said anything nice about me. 🙂

Interesting side note: Someone very close to me — who is a conservative and voted for Trump — read my last blog. He could have been pissy about it, but all he had to say about it was that it’s a funny and satirical piece, and some of the best writing he’s seen from me. How about that. I thanked him for his civility, and he said, “I’m the norm. The people who act like a-holes are the exception.” I’m afraid I disagree with that; I think it’s the other way around. But we’ll see.

Moving on — did you guys miss my annual sniping about fruitcake? Then this is for you. Our ever-trendy coffeehouse, Starbucks, unveiled a Christmas treat this year, available for one week only: the Fruitcake Frappuccino. It was described as a blended iced coffee drink with hazelnut and cinnamon, topped by whipped cream, caramel and matcha (whatever the @#$% that is). What’s fruitcake-y about this, you might ask? Well, also blended into the beverage are bits of dried fruit. That’s right, so you can eat your Frappuccino as well as drink it. It’s creamy! It’s chunky! It’s chewy! It’s disgusting!

And if you’re not already sick, here is a real view of it:

I’m sorry, but this doesn’t resemble anything drinkable to me. It looks like the inside of a Times Square toilet on New Year’s Eve.

Did everyone have a nice holiday? Mine had some pleasant moments, although I was struggling a bit. Earlier this month, Alex and Paul had a lovely little party, and I did my best to get into the spirit, dressing myself up, complete with black stockings that had red bows at the top, red pumps, and a black shirt that had “Naughty” on the front and “Nice” on the back. Last week, Alex, SC and I had a long-overdue girls’ night out, where we chatted for hours and exchanged presents. I got some nice things, including a beautiful, soft and plush robe from Alex, and SC gave me a Lego set… to build the Yellow Submarine! I haven’t played with Legos since I was a kid; this should be fun. But I think my favorite gift was one that came as a surprise in the mail: it was from Lily Starr, and when I opened it, I smiled, then giggled, then guffawed. It was a crystal pendant… of a snowflake.

I think this might have been the beginning of a turnaround for me. I felt my humor, long dormant, kick back in a bit. And my feistiness. Damn right I’m a snowflake, and I’ll accept that term, meant to be insulting, with pride. In fact, Lily’s gift inspired me to shoot this little video. 🙂 Screw with me, and I’m screwing right back. I may go down in a nuclear holocaust in the coming year or so, but I’m going down laughing.

* * *

Now, if I can be serious for a moment. This has been a brutal year. No, not just because of the obvious, but for so many other miseries befalling people I care about. Job losses, illnesses, broken relationships, getting outed. Deaths… so many deaths. John lost his own closest friend last month, and we are still reeling from that. And this was a terrible year for our beloved icons, with an unbelievable count of losses. Actors. Musicians. Authors. Sports figures. Astronauts. Just this week, we lost Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds, one day apart. Reportedly, Ms. Reynolds’ last words were “I want to be with Carrie” before she had a massive stroke. I guess it is possible to die of a broken heart. My own heart breaks for Todd Fisher, who lost both his sister and mother within 24 hours, and for Billie Lourd, who lost her mother and grandmother. Sometimes life is very cruel.

If you have never seen Singin’ In The Rain, I am telling you to do so. Even if you say you don’t like musicals, see it anyway. It is so much more than song and dance, although those numbers are dazzling, and it’s impressive to watch a 19-year-old Debbie Reynolds, who’d never danced professionally before, holding her own with two of the best dancers of the 20th century. It’s funny, clever, energetic, romantic, and if it doesn’t put a smile on your face and lift your spirits, you might want to check for a pulse.

What’s my point? Life is short. Hold your loved ones close. Hang in there, and do the best you can. I say this as much to myself as I do to my friends. I’m going to put on my rain gear and boots, and plow bravely forward into the crapstorm that 2017 is looking to be, determined to have fun and experience love and joy where I can. May you all do the same.

Have a great weekend, y’all. ♥

Stress relief, and a runaway bus

OK, kids — no matter what side you’re on, I think we can all agree that this godawful Presidential election, fraught with anger and ugliness, could send anyone in this country to the loony bin. I know that if I’m going to survive, I need stress release, and I need to laugh. Fortunately, I’ve had opportunities for both this week.

First, for the past three days, I’ve been engaging in a war of bratty tweets on Twitter. It started out with Ulf Sayer, Kajira Bound and me, and then it expanded to include Alex Reynolds, Paul Kennedy and Nuna Starks. Ulf had claimed that, because of me, the hashtag #SpankOnSight has become an international necessity. And sometime yesterday, I’ve lost track of who started it, but the hashtag #BlameEricaScott became a thing.

So, I tweeted a photo of myself with a very innocent face, and said, “Who, meeee?” And late last night, Alex tweeted, “YES YOU!!!”

Humph! I then replied to all, “Did anyone get the license plate of that bus I just got thrown under?”

And Miss Alex came back with, “I did! Here you go!” Accompanied by this:

Well, I never! I am flabbergasted! I am verklempt! Or, to employ my beloved boyfriend’s goyishe interpretation, I am kermufft!

Today, Kajira posted a picture of herself about to be spanked by Ulf, and tweeted that this is what happens every time she talks with or quotes me. To which I said, “You’re welcome.” 😀

But back to stress relief. Steve and I were able to get together for a couple of hours yesterday, and we made good use of it. And finally got some new pictures. For this one, he called out, “Give me your best ‘WTF are you doing??’ face!” Which translated into my signature “righteous indignation” face:

And then, of course, there’s my “Is that all you’ve got?” face:

Apparently, it wasn’t all he had.

Notice that my thighs got a bit of attention too.

All good. I certainly felt a lot more relaxed afterward. And the laughter certainly felt wonderful.

Friends are good things. ♥ Bus tracks on my ass notwithstanding.

New from Northern Spanking!

A little over a month ago, I joined Alex Reynolds and Paul Kennedy to create a custom shoot for one of her clients. He was very pleased with it and wrote a gracious note to Alex, which she shared with me. Even better, he gave them the OK to post the video publicly on their Northern Spanking site, so everyone who wants to can enjoy it.

It’s called “Protester Punished,” and Paul plays a corporate fat-cat property developer — who just happens to have an environmental activist daughter (Alex). I play Paul’s wife/Alex’s stepmother, and I have my own agenda, which comes out about halfway through the video.

I want to share my two favorite pictures — sorry, nary a bottom in sight, but I love all our facial expressions! Here’s the one I call “Uh oh, Alex is in trouble…”

I especially liked Michael Masterson’s comment about Paul’s face, that he has “a ‘Joker’ smirk.” You can’t unsee it, can you!

And then, when the tables turn, it’s “Uh oh, my turn.”

 

For those who would like to see some action shots, you can go here for a gallery of them. Click on each thumbnail for a full-sized picture.

Speaking of Alex, I am seeing her and SpankCake on Wednesday for a belated birthday dinner and one of our marathon chats. It’s been a long time and we have much to catch up on. Wednesday just happens to be John’s birthday — I won’t be seeing him until Friday, but perhaps we can take a selfie birthday greeting and send it to him while at dinner. 🙂

In other news… there is no other news. I have much work to do and I’m just taking this quickie break to catch up. Hope everyone had a nice weekend!