Object

I don’t want to be treated as a sex object.

You might think that’s rather obvious, but it took me a long time to realize. I’m a very sexual person. Sex relieves stress, provides a space where I don’t have to think or worry or second guess every damn thing. With the right rapport, my focus shifts from mostly mind to nearly all body. Those times, I don’t care if you prefer William Hartnell to Tom Baker or what changes you think would most improve SNAP or what to do for dinner. All I care about is your body crashing into mine, a clawing fighting howling storm of limbs and breath and sweat and who knows, who cares whether that scream came from your throat or mine?

If we connect that well, I sure as hell ain’t thinking of you as an object. I don’t care if you look like a model. I’m not interested in shape so much as synapses. I want your reactions, your wide-eyed gasping for breath, your words pleading growling laughing in my ear. I want the unique perfume of your skin, the taste of your mouth, the peculiar intensity of your hands so unlike anyone else’s.

Right now, this is why I’m not falling into bed with anyone new. A few friends have offered (one lovely man often and creatively, the poor dear). I’m not pretty, really, but I am a tall, thin ginger with great shoes. It’s enough to get noticed at the club. I could be playing at parties. It would be easy. But I don’t want to play with, for instance, the submissive man who isn’t interested in pain but loves bondage and humiliation. Who thinks any scene would be a fantasy come to life just because he’s impressed by my figure in a corset. It unnerves me to think how quickly that interest would fade once the make-up’s washed off, or if I smiled and they saw the scars. I don’t want to be interactive porn. We’d both walk away disappointed.

I’m too cautious, right now, to stop thinking. With Spouse, or if the Fireman and wife were around, sure. But I don’t think I can let my guard down enough to feel muscles better and nerves more with someone new. The Fireman’s wife says it’s sad, that I’m with just Spouse while he’s seeing other people. It’s unusual, certainly. The circumstances–my split with the Techie so close to Spouse starting to see the Techie’s ex–could have been better. But no, it isn’t sad. It would be sad to seek out a partner just for the sake of having one, to treat someone else as an object or to be treated like one.

Now if I could just convince my brain to stop thinking it would be highly entertaining to tease and/or electrocute friends, that’d help.

34 thoughts on “Object”

  1. Pingback: Zoe Hanis Presents
  2. Pingback: E[lust] #54
  3. Pingback: e[lust] 54
  4. Pingback: Elust 54 »

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *