A Dangerous Game

I had another weekly meeting with my Mr. Exec.  We once again followed our same pattern. I am beginning to be able to anticipate our movements.

The sex was fantastic, as it usually is. I do wish he would be more commanding.  Instead, he seems hell bent on making love.  I even attempted some bratty antics.  He ordered me to lay down.  I refused.  He ordered again.  I refused again.  At this point I would expect him to exact some punishment or perhaps to pin me down.  He just laughed. Pity.

I was the one who had some trouble today with the eye contact during our sexual exploits.  I kept breaking it with a kiss. Something about it was too intense. Too familiar. Too dangerous. I couldn’t handle it.  This is very odd for me.  But I shall take the new experience in stride.

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Inconsistency

Today I had tech rehearsal for the musical I’m in.

If you are a non-theatre type, tech is the time when all the finer details of a live theatre production come together. We add lights, sound, and complicated effects.

I love techs.

In my younger years, tech consisted of an entire weekend.  We would start on Friday at 6pm and go until midnight.  Then Saturday we would muster through a full run-through (often for the first time).  Again, the same on Sunday.  My house was always the destination for sleepovers during tech week.  I bonded so fiercely with my castmates during that time.  Fun fact- I had my first sexual encounter with a female during a tech weekend.

Such fond memories.

But tech is long.  Grueling.  With much starting and stopping.

It’s not about you as an actor, it’s about the techies who make the real magic happen.

And my Mr. Exec is the sound guy for this musical.

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Strung Out

Too much of a good thing can be exhausting.

Too much of a bad thing?… Well that can be downright injurious.

I am strung out.

My state is so elevated that I am unable to be in control. I am desperately searching for a place to stash these new emotions. I refuse to swallow them.

I am rash and unpredictable now.  Begging for someone to take away the inner turmoil.

Begging for thread to sew up the hole that’s been ripped in my head.

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Cancellation

It is 2:45 PM. He was supposed to be here by 2:30 PM.

I was glad that he chose a later time, because I had work to finish.

My boss is gone for the day and I am finally caught up.  And yet, Mr. Exec is nowhere to be found. It’s unlike him to be late.

I debate over whether to send him a Skype.  But I may have other available options should he not be able to make it.  And I need a good fucking one way or another.  My succubus meter is dangerously low.

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Taking

For you it is so fucking easy.

You get to lay in bed next to your wife each night.  Nefarious thoughts of me running through your mind.

I’m the dirty little secret you love to keep.

And for me it is often torture.

I dance the line between saying too much and not nearly enough.

I must keep your interest.

But why?

You are not a prize to be had.

I knew this about you before I ever began.  I wanted your high.  Your nothing.  Your ruminations.

I wanted you to be like him… My Dark and Twisty.

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No Separation

Ms. Awesomely Dangerous has always been a personality I can slip into and then discard when I need to.  There is me, slightly awkward lil ole me, and then there is Ms. Awesomely Dangerous.

She’s my favorite armor.

I need her to survive these affairs because they take so much out of me. I don’t want anyone to get too close to the warm squishy bits underneath.

But Mr. Exec is getting a healthy dose of the actual me.  It’s become nearly impossible to utilize Ms. Awesomely Dangerous as a defense mechanism.  I knew this was going to be an issue- given how I know him.  But I didn’t expect it to be so incredibly taxing on my little brain.

I don’t get a break at all.

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First

I had assumed that my dear Mr. Exec was no stranger to the land of affairs. He’s confident.  In control.  Very smooth.  Delicious.

That sort of confidence doesn’t just randomly occur.  It’s something you earn. After stumbling a few too many times.  Or at least, that’s what I thought.

We are smoking after our little weekly meeting (I love that this is becoming routine!).

We are chatting about relationships and all their various intricacies.

We get on the topic of us.

“Well, I’m just hoping that however it goes- it doesn’t go sour. I wouldn’t like that. I like you in my life.” He says seriously.  No Mr. Exec smirk with a chuckle. He means it.

I smile at him. “It won’t. I’m well suited for this type of thing.  I will make sure it’s nothing but lovely.”

He smiles back.  “Good.  I just don’t know what to expect.  I haven’t done this before.”

I take a literal step back and balk at him.

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Sex Is Better Than Therapy

Oh, the way this man does what he does.

His hands on my body as though I’m a thing to be worshipped and treasured.

He kisses me passionately. One hand entangled in my hair, the other placed on my cheek.

“Softer,” he implores.

I gently lower my lips to his and we share a sweet, innocent thing of a kiss.  The type of kiss you’d give to someone you love and value.  Not your dirty mistress.

My mind starts to reel. And to think I almost canceled on him today.

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