Tag Archives: present

Teacher, Mine

Relationships go in cycles, or so it seems. At least, mine always have. Those who are meant to stick around in your life cycle back around in one way or another.

One of those that has cycled back for me is Cal, the person who started all of this. I still chuckle when I think about how I was when I started this journey. Monogamous, green, terrified of pain. Spankings were far from enjoyable for me and knives terrified me.

Now, most of that is the opposite.

Cal and I have danced around each other for years now… and we’re still dancing. It’s never been the right time. Things have always gotten in the way. He hasn’t been available. I haven’t been. And so, I swallowed the bits of desire that remained after his last breakup and told myself, over and over and over, I would be a safe person for him. I would be a friend.

What I didn’t factor in was that nothing about Cal is safe. At least for me.

I have several people that have always been kryptonite for me, just on a visceral level. James is one of them. He gets to me on every level. His voice, his smell, his presence… Cal is another one. When I was his mentee I would sleep in tee shirts that smelled of him. I think I still have one of his old green shirts stashed away that I sleep in on colder nights (I don’t normally wear shirts to bed. I get strangled by them). He figured out how to fuck my mind before he ever got to my body, which hardly helped things when I was first starting out. And he was protective of me. All things that give me a lady boner.

He started coming to BaGG, on and off, a couple of months ago. He saw James again (James doesn’t like him), met my Daddy and my Sir. BaGG… is a work in progress for Cal and I. The first time he got me shit faced on scotch and left me before saying goodbye and after making out with me. Several times. And telling me that he would be there long after James was gone, and we would end up together because we’re both too broken not to. The second was similar to the first, only I was more sober and stuck him on a stool for the last hour of the night to sober up while I rubbed at bruises he left on my neck. He’s into breath play, which is something I also love, but when he’s drunk his hands are very rough. And I was afraid.

Still. There had been kisses. And hugs. And he called me little one.

I found myself protective of this man, broken again by a relationship that I saw going down in flames long before it did. And I found myself terrified of him as well. He apologized for the incidents and promised to try and manage the alcohol more. He’s hurt, physically, and not eating as much as normally, and so alochol is affecting him more strongly than it normally does.

There is a war in my head when it comes to Cal. There is the good, protective friend that kinda wants to guide him back into our local scene and then there’s the submissive chomping at the bit to prove herself to him. To show what he missed. It’s the submissive that gets me in trouble, in ways that I didn’t see coming. And it’s the submissive that still.. can’t help but react to him. Smell. Voice. Presence. ESPECIALLY when he milks it. When he purrs my nickname after too many drinks and I tell my brain to shut up for a minute so I can enjoy.

He’s gotten better. We both have. Thank godde for time, firm boundaries, and bunnies. He has a new love that has slowly wrangled a lot of the darkness he has been carrying..and it means he’s behaving a lot more. And she is lovely.. Full compersion here. She’s the right age and the right temperment to actually be GOOD for him after his string of lemons, and I’m happy for him. I truly, honestly am. I just…have brain squirrels.

Last week, Cal came to BaGG. I was freshly back from a trip east and felt like absolute shit. I now know I probably had a fever..but I was determined to go. My friends wanted to see me. My meta wanted to talk about her trip and mine. I wanted my time with James. I was getting there.

I spent a good portion of the night on my knees, which were so sore they could barely support my weight. I didn’t think about this, until Cal saw me do it in the back of the smoking alley.

His hands were in my hair before I could warn him not to. He pet me gently, and I purred. Daddy was right in front of me. I knew it was safe, and Cal kept saying it wasn’t sexual. He was careful not to call me my nickname. I was careful not to call him sir. We were Cal and Rene and it was just a few head pets when I was in pain.

Later in the back room, he hugged me hard. He gets emotional after a few drinks and has a habit of thanking me for still being around.. which I appreciate. The hug captured my head. He had his hand in my hair and pulled, hard. I whimpered and reached for Daddy’s shirt, tugging just as hard. It was a signal we had agreed upon earlier in the evening that I would do when I was scared. Daddy interviened, gently pulling Cal off of me while my meta calmed me down. I blamed the last double he had and tried to shake it off.

It’s just with alcohol that I find myself on edge with Cal. When four or five drinks are removed he’s a safehaven. I crashed at his place after a play party last weekend, grateful for the couch and a day when I didn’t have to pay a bridge toll in order to get to work. He hugged me hello and I smelled him and immediately knew cuddling was out of the question. I put a big, fat blanket between he and I on the couch until he went to crash for the evening.

The next morning I tried to sneak out, dressing quickly for breakfast with Chris and scampering out the door. I dressed quickly before tossled hair and a furrowed brow stumbled outside, slightly confused. He was adorable. Bits of me melted that had been holding firm, and I smiled. He hugged me goodbye a beat too long. A dangerous beat. I wanted to kiss him.

But. I also want his head on straight. I want him established with his new parter. I want him happy and mostly whole. I want him to know that I am safe, and stable, and honestly pretty fucking close to poly saturated right now. I want to see more than one BaGG in a row without me getting scared of him physically harming me.

I want time, that lovely balm that heals all things, to finally decide the course for Cal and I. I keep telling myself that we are going to be friends. Friends are safe. Friends are good.

And all my instincts keep wanting more.

Yes, Cal is my teacher from a world ago, but lately we’ve been teaching each other. We talk daily, reading one another and keeping each other in check. For now, this is healthy.

For later?

I don’t know. Time will tell. Time always tells. For now, I have brain squrrels and he has a bunny. And this is how it should be.

So, what have you got left to teach me, teacher mine?

Yours, playful,

-Rene

When One Dore Closes…

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Purposeful misspelling, I promise.

Yesterday was Dore Alley, or Up Your Alley, or Leather Alley..whatever you want to label it as. I tend to go with “baby Folsom” because it’s the easiest way to explain it. It’s Folsom before Folsom. A taste of what is to come at the end of September. And going to it the last two years has made me very, very happy.

It was a harder day for me than it was a year ago. My sister, my best friend, is now 5800 miles away in Denmark. She left that morning, around the time that the event started…

I don’t really want to go into the details of my emotional state.. Rather the events resulting from it.

I found myself at Dore Alley, drying some tears after an intense last-stateside conversation with my sister. It seemed like just the therapy I needed.. I knew James would be there. My friends would be there. I wanted to be around my friends, out dressed in clothing that had me feeling more comfortable than any street clothing could.

It was right about then that I got nostalgic. I walked through the sea of half-naked bodies, assless chaps, and human puppies thinking about the previous Dore Alley, where Kane had met me after his wife left for the airport..

Kane and I have talked from time to time since we’ve split and had a habit of passively liking posts on Instagram, but other than that I had long ago stopped going out of my way to reach out to him. The year before Kane had been all that was on my mind. I took teasing photos for him at the event, begging him to come out and play, missing my boyfriend while I tried not to think about his wife.

Being the little show off that I am sometimes, I signed up for the naked dance contest. This, at the time, was extremely out of the ordinary for me. I still changed in the bathroom at the Citadel. I was never naked in public, never. I didn’t think anyone wanted to see chubby little me naked. I wanted to do something bawlsy and get lost in kink while I could. I had a vanilla job, Kane had no interest in the public scene, and the voyeuristic part of me that I refused to acknowledge most of the time wanted the attention of gyrating on stage in front of hundreds of people.

And so I stripped with Kane watching me, looking at me with the ‘I will fuck you later’ look. He held my bag and my clothes while I ran on stage, terrified and thrilled all at once. I stood in back, found him in the crowd, and danced like an idiot.. But it was fun. I kept locking eyes with him. I shimmied my hips and my ass and stuck my tongue out and just…enjoyed myself.

Somehow I ended up shoved in the front. I don’t know how. I still don’t like being in the front.. I like being the support, the background, but the spotlight and I still aren’t on speaking terms. I couldn’t find Kane in the crowd and wasn’t sure I wanted to still be on stage at all.

I looked down and locked eyes with my worse nightmare, a camera.

I vaguely recognized the person behind it. He took photos at some of the play parties I had gone to, and usually had a naked Asian woman in his lap. He was loud, with a big booming voice and over-the-top personality that scared the shit out of me. He had an easy power to take center stage, to make others notice him.

And he was watching me.

I kept dancing. I still couldn’t find Kane..and so I kept my eyes on the red headed camera guy. Saw the smirk on his face, the look of amusement as he took photos of everyone. I was attracted to him.. to strong hands, to the look of intensity he got when he worked, to the blue eyes I somehow hadn’t noticed before and the scruff… I have such a weakness for scruff.

Eventually we all stopped dancing and my viking collected me. We waited around to see who won the big prize, and I remember the red headed photo guy won even though he hadn’t danced. He knew everyone, was talking to everyone when I went home with Kane.

It’s amazing the difference a year can make. I ended up running into Kane amongst the latex and leather of Dore Alley. We talked..caught up, touched on why we ended and what we had become. He told me he was still pretty single. I finally told him I wasn’t. I confronted him about me being a secret..about him never fully letting me in his life. I wanted to meet his friends and his family, and he always kept me at arms length. I was never fully one of his people.

He looked started when I told him that, and then he smiled really sadly.

“Rena… I didn’t keep you from meeting my people. I don’t…have people.” He shrugged. In the middle of this clusters came over and chatted. They hugged, we talked. There were people from the Citadel, from BaGG, people I see week after week that I would call friends. When there was finally a break in the people and conversation he smiled. “Clearly, Rena, you have people now. You needed it.. It’s nice to see you finally happy.”

He’s right. I am happy.

We parted on good terms with plans to do a studio night together and hang out, just as friends. He went off to explore the rest of the festival, and I ended up kneeling next to my favorite red head with a camera. Yes, the same one that I finally noticed a year ago.

The same one that, during my conversation with Kane, was never too far away.

James still scares me.. but for entirely different reasons than that day I first noticed him. The chuckle doesn’t scare me..or the smirk.. The nails digging into my chest don’t scare me, and while I flinch when his hand comes down to hit me that doesn’t scare me either.

It’s when his voice gets soft and tender and his touch becomes feather-light that I become afraid. When he pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head so softly, so sweetly that I feel so entirely cherished and safe.. That is when he scares me.. Because this man has slowly captured more and more of my heart.

My life is changing.. for the better I think. I’m slowly getting myself un-stuck. Creatively I’m working again, financially I’ve collected another job that is slowly taking the place of unstable funds. Social wise I have friends… I go out, I see people. I smile a lot.

Romantically..

Romantically, he’s got me. I trust him, completely. I am his.

…It really is that simple

I am his. And I am happy.

Sometimes, doors closing can be an incredibly healthy thing. It can make you even more confident about your choices to open others.

Yours, smiling

-Rena