Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “play partners”

A brief update

Just a quickie on Sunday night before a busy week. I’m not bursting with news, just wanted to pop in and update on three things.

First, regarding the situation I mentioned at the party a couple of weeks ago, on the last night — all was resolved, in the nicest possible way. It was handled reasonably, compassionately, and I even seem to have made a new friend over it. Rather than hold me in contempt, the parties involved were actually concerned and caring that I’d been upset, and we talked it out. I wish everyone could be this pleasant. So that’s a relief.

Second… I suppose I need to say something about the fact that I haven’t posted about Steve in several months. No, he did not leave the relationship. He always said he wouldn’t, and he was true to his word. However, we have not played for over four months, and the only thing I’m willing to give as an explanation at this time is that we have irreconcilable differences. It makes me sad, and I miss what we had. I’d been with him a little over four years — longer than I was with ST and even my beloved Danny. And I certainly miss having regular play. But honestly, my life is different these days. I’m spending a lot more hours working (which is a good thing), and I don’t have the play time I used to. And being busy with work keeps me productively occupied, rather than spending time ruminating online over the state of the country. So. I hope there will come a day when I have local play again. But for now, it’s not happening.

Finally, I had expressed frustration that I’d gotten so few pictures at the party, and one of my readers pleaded for me to take pictures of the lingerie I wore on Purple Night. So, Friday, I dusted off my old-school digital camera, set up the timer and took some shots. (I’m just not that good with phone selfies.) Hope you like ’em! 😉

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Would you believe Target? Yeah, Victoria’s Secret has some really nice stuff, but good Christ, they’re expensive. And I’ve always liked Target. For those poor narrow-minded folks out there with misguided phobias who are boycotting Target over their bathroom policies — go right ahead! More for the rest of us!

Hope everyone is well out there. Please drop by and say hello!

At long last…

…play. Finally. It’s been a while.

Steve and I celebrated our four-year play partner anniversary yesterday. It occurred to me that he has now been my top longer than any other I’ve had in my twenty years of playing. (I don’t count John in that number, as he occupies a completely different place.) Steve always told me he wasn’t going anywhere. It took me a long time, but now I believe him.

He showed up with a small chocolate cake and a card (I had a card for him as well), and then we went out for a late breakfast in one of my favorite local spots where they specialize in breakfasts (waffles, in particular). It had cooled down enough so that we could sit outside and enjoy the patio area with a pretty fountain, and we even had a table in the shade. After a lovely meal (I got to have two kinds of homemade jam for my toast), we came back to my place and played.

Ah. It was worth the wait. 🙂

It was nice to take a short break from the insanity that’s been my life lately and stop thinking… just feel. Just immerse myself in pleasure-pain and have the world dwindle down to nothing but me and my top, in the moment.

Steve had no camera with him, just his cell, so our pictures aren’t the greatest of quality. But it sure is nice to have some new ones.

Love love love our crop!

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Ah, so ladylike am I…

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Since my work week isn’t quite as hectic, I’m going to treat myself to a couple of hours off, and some retail therapy. The Shadow Lane party is in a few weeks — new panties are in order! Perhaps a cute summer dress or two as well. Happy hump day!

That ITCH

Who knows what I mean, just from those two words? No, I’m not talking about a yeast infection. I’m talking about that urge that hits us bottoms (no pun intended) sometimes, the one where the craving for a spanking is So. Damn. Powerful, you feel like you’ll jump out of your skin if you don’t get some physical relief.

Many of us have spouses/mates/regular play partners. Some don’t. Some go to a lot of parties; others don’t have access or the funds for them. Some of us don’t play at all, just think about it, and for that, I am so sorry. We all have different spanking schedules. I am lucky enough to have a play partner whom I get to see fairly regularly, but you know, sometimes, life interferes. And most of the time I roll with that. But every now and then, that urge, that ITCH strikes so hard, I really do wish 1-800-SPANK-YOU was a thing. Order up a spanker, just like you order Uber or takeout food or whatever. You want it, you punch in the number, pull up the App, and poof. There he/she is. You even get to choose height, weight, age, hair color, banter style, level of intensity… imagine the possibilities.

It all started yesterday. Before I get into this, I want to make sure I’m being clear — yeah, I have a bit of a spanko-type crush on my chiropractor, because I really do get a toppy vibe from him. No, I don’t expect that anything would ever happen, nor would I want it to. But I’m having one hell of a lot of fun with these fantasies, so you all just get to bear with me and put up with ’em! 😀

When I walked into his office, he greeted me with, “How are we today?” To which I sniped, “I don’t know how you are, but I’m fine!” Without missing a beat, he said, “Thank you for the snark! Much appreciated. Of course, that will directly influence how hard I drive my elbow into your ass.” Right out of the gate, huh? The appointment went as it usually goes, with him working through the various knots of tension and trying to unkink me (physically, of course. No one will ever unkink my twisted little soul). He kept up a regular stream of banter, distracting me from the discomfort. At one point he was leaning his weight onto me while stretching out my hamstring, and he gleefully said, “I just love putting all my weight into pushing on such a tiny little person!” “Sadist,” I grumbled, and he replied, “Maybe a little.” AHA!! At the end of each session, he takes me into another room where they have tables with built-in massagers, and he lays me out on one of those with ice packs under my back, so I get a massage and an icing at the same time. Yesterday, he covered me with a blanket and then said, “Don’t you move for ten minutes.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, “What if I do?”

So I come home from this, with my body feeling like overcooked spaghetti but my kinky neurons firing… and then Steve texts me. Poor thing… yet another sinus infection. I swear, that man is the most infection-prone person I know. Sinus infections, pinkeye, bronchitis, that thing that started out like a pimple and then damn near ate off his face… such a drag! Either his immune system is whacked, or he’s taken so many antibiotics, they don’t work for him anymore. So of course, I wouldn’t be seeing him this week.

No biggie, I thought. I had a lot of work to do today. But as I got into it this morning, I was restless. I felt snarky and prickly; I was definitely in Looking For Trouble mode, I could feel it. I wanted to be spanked like nobody’s business. No emotional involvement, nothing complicated, just the pure physicality of a man’s hand smacking my backside hard.

Times like these, it’s a damn shame that I’m not a self-spanker. It would be pretty simple if that were the case, kind of like masturbating for sexual release. But I’m not.

As I squirmed and bounced in my computer chair, eating way too much peanut butter, my mind wandered back to something that happened a long time ago, maybe 13-15 years? It was so long ago, I’d written about it on the old Southern California Spanked Wives Club forum. We were at a Shadow Lane party, sitting in the ballroom at dinner, and a very handsome young man came over to the table and started talking with someone there. My friend at the time and I started whispering among ourselves: “Who’s that?” “Damn, he’s cute!” “I’ve never seen him here before!” “He certainly is easy on the eyes, isn’t he.” We simpered on and on until John, overhearing it all, laughed at us and blurted, “Oh for God’s sake, you two! You’re making me sick! Shut up! Less talking, more action — tell you what. The first one of you who gets Mr. Dreamboat to spank you, I’ll give you $25!”

“You’re on!” we said in unison.

I won. 😀  Yup, I bratted him into it first, which was quite the triumph, considering my friend was a lot younger, had a killer body and was cuter than any one woman should be. Anyway… it turned out he lived in Los Angeles, and before the weekend was over, he gave me his phone number. “Any time you feel like playing, give me a holler,” he said. I didn’t think I’d take him up on it; he was maybe 15-20 years younger than me and I felt weird about it.

However.

There came an afternoon when I was home, back in the days when I didn’t have a regular spanking partner, work was slow, and I was feeling that ITCH. I was craving spanking so hard, it consumed my thoughts. It also overrode my pride, because I actually picked up the phone and dialed G’s number, which I’d saved. It had been a couple of months since the party, and I hoped he’d remember me. When he answered, I told him who it was and why I was calling. He sounded a bit distracted; he was polite, but it was pretty clear he was busy and wasn’t up for an impromptu play time. Feeling myself shrivel with embarrassment, I said, “OK, sorry to bother you, maybe another time,” and hung up the phone, swearing that I would never reach out like that again.

Two minutes later, my phone rang. I picked it up; it was him again.

“How bad do you want it?”

(Yeah, I know he should have said “how badLY.” But at the moment, I didn’t give a happy rat’s ass about his grammar.)

“Really, really, realllllly bad,” I murmured, feeling my heart race. Long story short, he was willing to meet up with me that evening, but I needed to drive to his place.

So. I dressed up, made up, fixed my hair, and drove approximately 35-40 miles. He lived in one of those beach communities that are notorious for having absolutely no parking anywhere. I’m not exaggerating; I drove around and around his apartment complex for twenty minutes before I finally called him in despair. He had to come out, guide me into his building’s garage, and show me where deliveries could park temporarily. What a hassle.

But I got exactly what I needed. 😀  My itch was scratched. I didn’t stay long, we didn’t talk much, it was just a spanking, nothing more. But I drove home relaxed, pleasantly sore and blissfully happy.

Spanker on Call. What a concept. That was the only time I did that with him, and I don’t think I ever saw him again after that. I don’t think I know anyone like that now, someone I can just call out of the blue, and I don’t even think I could pull it off now. I would overthink it, and think myself out of it. But damn, that was hot.

For crying out loud, there’s an App for everything these days. Why isn’t there a Spanko App?

Thanks for listening. Who else but other spankos would understand this??

Both sides of a protocol

Recently on FetLife, a friend posted about her scene protocol, and how much it annoys and baffles her when people disregard it or complain about it. She is part of a couple, and while she can play with anyone she chooses, she has one request: If anyone contacts her for play, she’d like them to drop a brief note to her dominant as well. It doesn’t have to be a multi-page epic; it doesn’t have to be a massive form providing his blood type and his mother’s maiden name. Just a little note of introduction, out of respect for her top, to acknowledge his existence.

Seems pretty simple, doesn’t it? And yet, according to her writing earlier, people give her grief about this. They don’t want to bother with that step; it’s too much of a hassle. And then they have the nerve to get bent out of shape when she says she’s sorry, but if they aren’t willing to do this little thing, then she isn’t willing to play with them.

You know, this thing we do is (or should be) about consent and respect. Everyone has limits. Everyone has personal rules. And it doesn’t matter a damn if their protocols aren’t your protocols. You don’t have to agree with them, or subscribe to them. You simply have to respect them, per the individual. If they aren’t to your liking, then you don’t have to play with that person.

Why is that so @#$%ing hard for some people to comprehend? Especially a request like this, which is so very common in the D/s world. Subs/bottoms often have potential play partners contact their doms/tops. Or ask them first at a party, before asking the bottom to play. Why would anyone resent that or bitch about it?

Today, I posted a comment on this lovely woman’s writing: “I’m not sure what the debate is about. My ass, my rules. Does that make it simpler?” She appreciated that; she commented after me: “So. Much. That.” 🙂

Me? I deal with the flip side of that protocol, and for me, it’s equally as frustrating and annoying.

See, I do not require anyone to check in with John before I play with them. That is simply not my dynamic. So it kind of tweaks me when some tops assume I do have that sort of dynamic, because, well, don’t all bottoms?? (sigh) Or the ones who assume that John speaks for me, because he does not. Just because I identify as a bottom does not mean I identify as a submissive or a slave. Stop putting us all in the same box.

Frequently at parties, John has had men approach him and ask if it’s OK if they play with me. John will smile, shrug and reply, “I dunno… ask her?” OK, so they’re being cautious. I get that. But my rebellious and sassy spirit kind of resents the assumption nonetheless. I do not need John’s permission for anything. Still, when it comes to a simple matter of play, I guess it’s innocuous.

But here’s an example of protocol assumption that really pissed me off. Many years ago, a gentleman who is quite well known in the BDSM world came to his first Shadow Lane party. At spanking party weekends, there’s a sort of unspoken etiquette about Friday nights, the first of three or four days of play: Don’t play too hard with a bottom that night. She has a lot more spanking ahead of her, so it’s better to err on the side of caution, go a little lighter, save the heavier stuff for later in the weekend. In other words, don’t trash a bottom’s backside all to hell right out of the gate.

This guy clearly wasn’t aware of this… and he whaled the hell out of me with a wooden hairbrush, on Friday night at the vendor fair. I had immediate white spots, which morphed into purple splotches. Not good. People around us watching looked shocked. John immediately ran to get an ice pack and was following me around the ballroom, pressing it to my butt. By the next day, I had bruises.

I guess the guy must have heard from others that what he had done was a bit of a faux pas. Because the next day, he offered a sincere and contrite apology.

To John.

That’s right. He sought John out specifically, and said, “I’m sorry I marked your sub so early in a spanking party weekend. I didn’t realize that wasn’t OK, and I didn’t mean to.” Um, what? He hit me. He bruised me. And he apologizes to my boyfriend?? WTF?

Yeah, I know. D/s protocol. But use a little common sense, for God’s sake. Give a direct apology to the wounded party! John, bless his heart, calmly told him, “I appreciate that, man, but don’t tell me. Tell her.”

To his credit, he came to me next and apologized. Multiple times. And again after the party weekend in an email. I did appreciate it, and I never revealed who he was or what had happened in any blog or party report. (And I still won’t.) But I still think about it and shake my head. What kind of weird-ass protocol is it that you injure a bottom and you apologize to her top by proxy? It’s not his butt! (sigh again)

So, I guess it comes down to this once again: Everyone is different; all players aren’t formed from the same cookie cutter. We all have different protocols, preferences, priorities. Different parties have different rules. When negotiating the playing field (which can often be a minefield), get a feel for who you’re dealing with, and what kind of gathering you’re attending. Ask questions, pay attention, and Be. Respectful.

Oh, and despite the fact that it seems to be so damned uncommon these days, do try that common sense thing. 😉

According to Erica: How to enter the scene and find play partners

Back in November when we did Love Our Lurkers Day, one of my de-lurkers asked, “How do you get into the scene and find a top?” I replied that I would delve into that in a separate post in the future. Then December came with all its holiday distractions and health issues and so forth, and writing went to the back burner. Now, since I didn’t end up seeing Steve this week after all (hopefully next week), and I’ve finished my work early, I thought I’d finally tackle this topic. (Grab a beverage. This is looooong.)

Please keep in mind — this is all subject to individual opinions and experiences. I am posting only according to my own. Yours may vary.

First, getting into the spanking scene. Lucky you, you’re living in the Internet age; literally everything out there is at your fingertips, waiting to be discovered and perused. Now you just have to do the search and put yourself out there. Sure, easy, right? (insert sarcastic face here)

Social media is very helpful. As much as it is loaded with minefields and can have a bit of a bad rep sometimes, for newbies I would suggest joining FetLife, which is like Facebook for kinky folks. Yes, it can be overwhelming — there are millions of members, and myriad kinks, some that will no doubt scare the bejesus out of you. And yes, there are some pictures that may give you nightmares for the rest of your natural life. But if you keep your focus on spanking, that will weed out a lot of what’s not needed.

Because you cannot search FetLife without joining, create a name and a profile. Fill out the profile; it doesn’t have to be epic, just an intro to who you are and what you’re seeking, your likes, dislikes, whatever. I also recommend putting up photos. They don’t have to be of your face, or even of you. However, if you put up a picture of a spanking scene you like, be sure, whenever possible, to credit where it came from, who it is, etc. If you don’t know, then put something in your caption like “Source unknown: anyone know?” Nothing pisses people off more quickly on FL than posting other people’s photos without proper credit.

After that, you can start looking around the site, finding friends, joining groups, etc. The search function can help you narrow things down. For example, when I plugged in “Spanking Los Angeles,” I got this:

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I know this is tiny, sorry. But it says that there are 10 groups and 28 events, as well as listing members who have both spanking and Los Angeles in their profile. You can start there, looking up events, munches, etc. in your area. Of course, if you live in a well-populated large city, you’ll have more choices than if you live in the middle of nowhere. But people do often travel to meet friends and go to functions, so there is hope.

Back in the days of AOL dominance, there were chat rooms and groups and bulletin boards where people could post. Those went by the wayside a long time ago, unless there are some holdouts I don’t know about. Even the written blog is giving way to the Tumblr photo blogs. But still, there are ways to connect. You have to start somewhere, so FetLife is my best guess. If others have suggestions, please feel free to add them in your comments.

Once you’re there, read away. Check out the groups. Send friend requests and notes of intro to people you like. Be as open and friendly as you can be, while still maintaining your safety and privacy. Don’t give out personal information too quickly (your full name, email address, phone number, etc.). Women especially — befriend other women, so you can bounce things off them, have them to give you possible references, etc. I know we’ve all heard about the Mean Girls on these sites, and they do exist. But I’ll like to think that for the most part, we look out for one another.

It takes a leap of courage to take things offline and to physically attend a munch or a gathering. I would suggest, if they are available to you, go to munches first, which don’t involve play, just socializing in a restaurant or other public place, so there’s no pressure. When you’re new, listen a lot. Gather as much information from as many sources as you can. Be a sponge. There is much to learn. If you go to a munch and don’t care for it, try a different one. Pick out someone who appeals to you and ask them if they know other places to recommend. It’s all about connection and networking. The Internet does make it a lot easier, but also a great deal more complex. Be as patient as you can. If you’re seeking spanking and you end up at a munch that is more BDSM oriented, don’t fret. If you mention what you’re into, there are bound to be some people who know something or another about where you can home in on a group more specific to your desires. As I’ve mentioned before, when I was new, I went to a lot of BDSM functions and parties before finding the spanking parties.

OK, so you’ve waded in, looked around, perhaps make a few friends/connections. Now, how do you find a top? The first word that comes to mind is carefully. Very, very carefully. (For the sake of simplicity, I’m going to phrase the following as woman seeks man. Please swap out the pronouns in your mind as you read if it helps.)

Best case scenario: You go to a local munch, meet Mr. Wonderful, chat him up, meet one on one for coffee, and things click. Or you make some new friends who introduce you to Mr. Wonderful, vetting him in the process (although you still should do your own vetting). Hey, a woman can dream, and some people are lucky that way. But if not, then once again, you have to put yourself out there and take some leaps of faith. Carefully.

There used to be a lot more sites where people could put up a personal spanking ad, but now, they seem to have dwindled. There is a site called Spanking Personal Ads, which I can’t personally vouch for, but it looks to be pretty thorough and easy to navigate. When you write a profile for an ad site, be as specific as you need to be. State very clearly what you’re seeking… and what you’re not. Hate to say it, but on these sites, you’ll be more successful if you post a picture of yourself. Again, it doesn’t have to be your face, or you can pixelate/blur your face. But a potential playmate is going to want to know what you look like. Or, at the very least, write “photo available upon request” in your profile.

Females tend to be inundated as soon as they join one of these sites. Pick through the correspondence carefully — be prepared that some of it will be icky. But there may be gems as well.

Another potential site is good old Alt.com. Granted, I’ve posted more than my share of insults of that site over the years. Because it encompasses a lot of hard-core kink, you’ll see a whole lot more than spanking in there. You’ll see more dicks than a urologist. And I’d say 80% of my Correspondence Hall of Shame entries came from there. BUT. Again, patience. There are good people in there, too, and it doesn’t hurt to post a profile. Don’t pay for a membership; you can have a free one. Granted, it’s limited — you can’t contact people directly; you can only respond if they contact you. But it’s still worth a try. After all, I met Steve on Alt.com. I also met ST before him on Alt, and despite the way things ended between us, ST was a wonderful top.

When you start corresponding with men on these sites, I can’t emphasize this enough: Listen to your gut instincts. If someone is too pushy, tries to get you on the phone or to meet in person too quickly, if they are rude or crude, or if they simply give you an off vibe and you have no idea why, pay attention to that. Don’t try to talk yourself into something that doesn’t feel right, because you think you should, or because they try to coerce you. Newbies often fall into this trap — I did. Fortunately, I was never seriously hurt or abused, but I had my share of bad scenes and experiences, ones that could have been avoided. Always trust your gut.

If the man is local and wants to meet, I recommend doing so in a public place first. Some people meet for a meal, but I prefer coffee, so that food isn’t a distraction and I can concentrate on the person. Anyone who gives you resistance about meeting in public first? NEXT!

You may have a lot of these coffee dates. One of the reasons I had many in my earlier days was not just for safety’s sake, but I wanted to see if there was in-person chemistry before I committed to anything. No matter how great someone seems online, you really don’t know what they’re like until you see them up close and personal. Sometimes what works online falls flat in person. If this is the case, be kind, but let them know (gently) that you don’t think you’re a match. I never commit to playing with anyone (even at a party) until I’ve met them first. (Yes, I learned this from mistakes I’ve made.)

But say you click. Say the in-person chemistry is even better than online. You want to play with this guy, and the feeling is mutual. This is where you take the leap of faith, where you take the risk. Where you really, really have to listen to your instincts. Because you are about to make yourself vulnerable.

I don’t have to tell you about the bad things that can happen; you’ve heard them all. They’ve happened to people I know. It breaks my heart and makes me furious every time I hear bad stories, because I know they cause damage and reluctance and suspicion, and end up hurting the good players out there. I cannot blame women who have had bad experiences for giving up; it’s terrifying. And some may argue, with validity, that some fun spanking play isn’t worth risking your life for. But… damn. There’s so much good stuff, so many joyous experiences to be had, so many truly wonderful people to know. Please, please, if possible, don’t let the bad turn you away from the good.

Common sense is key. Don’t invite someone into your home, or go to their home, without a good solid feeling that they are trustworthy. (Do as I say, not as I do, with this one. Yup, I’ve had a couple of men come over in the past when I hadn’t met them publicly first. I was lucky that the experiences were awesome and hot. But it was still stupid of me.) Some women like to set up what’s known as a “safe call” — they let a friend know what they’re doing, and either the friend calls to check on them, or they agree to call the friend to let them know that they’re OK (and if the friend doesn’t hear from them, they call 911). I personally have never done this, but it adds an extra layer of safety.

Remember — you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Even if you’ve gone through the vetting and the talking and the planning and the stating of limits and he’s finally with you, you can get a bad vibe at the last minute. Don’t hesitate to call things off if you do. I have. Had a guy come over once — we’d emailed, exchanged photos, met for coffee, clicked. But when he arrived and we started to play, he immediately pulled my cheeks apart and made a crass comment about my winking eye. I ended the scene right then and there and told him goodbye.

If the guy does nothing wrong, but the scene just doesn’t do it for you, then honor that. It’s not fun for either of you if it’s not working. Please don’t be discouraged if you have some dud meetings, or dud scenes. They happen. Move on to the next possibility and keep your eyes, mind and heart open. Through experimentation, you will learn how to balance healthy precaution with trust.

All this may sound like a lot of work, with no guarantee for return. But speaking for myself, after nearly 20 years, I’d say it’s all worth it. The joys and pleasures of finding good play partners far outweigh the inconveniences of weeding through the masses to find them. And having friends, a social circle of people who get you, get your kink, is priceless.

I could go on and on, and I’ve probably forgotten half of what I wanted to say. But for now, I’d say this is enough. Again, please feel free to ask more questions, or add your own input to this.

Oh, and on a personal note that has nothing to do with any of this: In the Spanking Blogg’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Spankees, I won third place. First place is the amazing Amber Pixie Wells, and 2nd place is Leia-Ann Woods. I’ve met both and they are lovely. Congratulations, and thank you to everyone who voted for me. I really am honored by this, considering that I got such a late start. I mean, I got into the scene and started doing videos and so forth at an age where many are retiring already. What a ride it’s been. It’s nice to feel appreciated. 🙂

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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.

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