Bittersweet

I’m continuing my vacation strategy of featuring alternative posts from blogs that I enjoy. In this case the victim lucky author is Femi with her post entitled Letter to a Masochist. It’s a bittersweet kind of post, that manages to be hot, creative and a touch melancholy.

I want to give you bruises that don’t fade for a week.
I want to think, “I hope the neighbors don’t call the cops.”
I want to rub my hand over your flesh that’s hot to the touch.
I want to be sore the next day from that much energy expended.
I want to be the answer to your needs.
I want this hypothetical you to exist, to find me, to say, “yes,” and “more,” and, “please.”
If I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for you, it’s because I have. Already I feel jaded.
Come into existence for me.
Femi – Letter to a Masochist

The first part is definitely hot, and the last part a little sad, but the line about the neighbors made me smile. I actually know of a Seattle couple that ‘soundproofed’ their basement before starting to crack the whip. Unfortunately the soundproofing wasn’t up the job and, in a moment of true genius, they hadn’t thought to check from the outside before getting their freak on. Sure enough, the neighbors called the cops. Doubly unfortunate for them was the fact that Seattle mandates that for domestic violence calls somebody is always taken away. I get the logic of that, but it doesn’t leave a lot of room for discretion. So despite protestations that it was all consensual and the screaming was just part of the fun, the husband ended up (temporarily) in the pokey. Everything worked out OK in the end, but I’ve got to imagine the subsequent conversations with the neighbors were a little embarrassing.

The two illustrative images I’ve chosen below are from Dana Kane, a professional disciplinarian based out of Las Vegas. Given Femi’s comments about bruising and hot flesh they seemed appropriate. They’re from this video sequence.