I’m done with talk. I want action.

“Oh girl, you sound so hot, I want u sooo bad,” big_dixxx_69 types.
“Why don’t we meet??” I type, sending him directions.
“OK!!!! See you soon…” he replies. The chat window closes with a chirp.

We’ve been sending increasingly dirty messages back and forth for a couple days. I’m not even sure what his real name is. All I know is that he says he likes to fuck, lives by Detroit, and that we have a mutual love of the movie “True Romance.” Close enough.

I call my friend to let her know I’m meeting some strange guy from the internet in case my body shows up in a ditch later. “Again?” she sighs. “I’ll be fine,” I tell her.  She admonishes me with a few unheard words of caution, then hangs up.

The restaurant I’ve chosen out by the freeway is easy enough to find and it has a vast dark parking lot used by commuters. I’m early, of course. I’m early for everything. I think about going in for a drink, but then decide I don’t want to get up to pee every five minutes. I keep flipping down the mirror and check my lipstick, my hair and my teeth, even though I look fine. Eagerly, I search the faces of drivers pulling in, but most of them are elderly couples coming in for the Friday All-U-Can-Eat fish special. Continue reading

“I want you to try this only if you want to,” says Jay tenderly. “Don’t do it for me.”

Even though I’ve been fucking for years, I’m new to my sexuality. Like a child discovering candy, I want to sample each sweet tidbit offered to me.  Jay has been patient with me as I explore, showing me how to embrace my deeper self without the fear and shame that’s been holding me back for so long. Jay had approached this new question gently, knowing about my abusive past. It took me a few months to think about it, but now I feel ready.

He opens a drawer to reveal a small ornate knife with a twisty silver blade. “It’s pretty,” I say as he hands it to me to inspect. “It’s custom made, I only ever use it for this purpose,” he explains. The knife is heavy and sharp, it’s no toy. My stomach knots. He won’t hurt me on purpose, I know that. I have to know that and believe it.  “Are you sure you want this?” he asks. I pause, then nod. Continue reading