It’s been a long time since i’ve been touched in a sexual or kinky way. Years. i guess if someone did, i might spontaneously combust and just go up in flames.
i ran across this quote today and it made me smile:
“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it. She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.”
i feel like i’m too old, too flawed, to be attractive to anyone. Whether or not that’s true is not so important as feeling that way.
i start a fantasy in my head:
“I should take you to the Center for Reclamation,” he says.
“It’s for submissives who’ve neglected themselves, been neglected and neglected themselves. Like you. They’ll whip you into shape,” he grins, “So to speak.”
“That sounds scary,” i say, but i’m curious.
He shrugs. “It’s purely consensual. No one would keep you there if you wanted to leave.”
We drop the subject that night, and a couple of weeks go by before it comes up again. We are having coffee, still dabbling with the idea of getting involved with each other. i’m attracted to him, but the risk of getting hurt again just seems too big. i’m too old, too tired.
i look up from my coffee to see our friend, Anna. She smiles and makes her way to our table. She looks relaxed and happy, almost glowing, and i think she must have fallen in love.
We chat for a few minutes and then i say, “You look great! What have you been up to?”
Anna looks around for a chair, pulls it closer and joins us at the table. “The Center for Reclamation,” she whispers. And giggles. “That’s where I’ve been.”