the littlest things

It's funny how the littlest things can bring a sense of reverie. The warmth of dreamy notions as I move through the most unusual of places.

I was in the supermarket aisle yesterday rushing from errand to errand in my life. Next on the list? Rice. Basmati. Jasmine is nice but there's nothing like the aroma and texture of Basmati. There it was, just down on the lower shelf. I bent at the hips and then remembering my state of knickerless-ness and a shorter skirt, a little rule left me by a distant Local D,  and I quickly bent my knees to retrieve the small prize of white kernels.

I gazed at the packet as my thoughts drifted, hurtled really, back to a man who had found me searching for a Dominant character. Just over a couple of years back I hardly knew who I was or what this thing was in me that tapped at my brain, pushing me forward into the unknown. He found me and claimed me. It was a slow process, it always is. We never met, as is the way with D/s in a lot of cases these days, we were content for that time with an online connection. I was far too timid to even step in a direction that would see us come into the offline world. He lived in another state. We were at least in the same country and he travelled a great deal. Up until then I had kept most potential Dom's at a distance, safely with an ocean in between us. I lived in the knowledge that we would meet one day, though the very idea of that terrified me. I was able to explore this thing in me and have almost unlimited contact.

I loved how he exerted his control. He was a methodical man and controlled my dress, everyday. I sent him a list of all my known activities for the week or two if he was to be travelling overseas. I had previously delivered to him a not insubstantial list of all my lingerie.  In return he somehow provided me weekly a list of garments I was required to wear (or not) for my activities. This frankly, impressed me. He rarely missed a beat. The list was always delivered to me in time to know what to do. I never had to make a decision, though there was an established rule around that should the occasion arise. He did not care for black and over time he trained me not to care for black very much either. To this day I rarely wear black though it still fills my draw with it's lace and filminess in case...one day...

In the supermarket aisle I gazed at the company name, his company name, on the packet of rice as my thoughts drifted back to my first Daddy. My first real taste of another's control. As I held the packet of rice made by his company in my hand, this simple food, a staple of so many people, I remembered with some fondness my first time. Now that same packet of rice sits in my pantry, a memory of Daddy gone but certainly not forgotten. That small packet connected me in that moment to Daddy-gone. There was a small sense of loss too in that packet. A little sense of regret. If only he had come into my world at a later time, when I was more brave. But then he is one of the reasons I have become braver. He was who I needed at that time. Now there is one (or two ;)) who I need at this time. One or two who guide me further on the journey and in their own way encourage me to be braver still.

Source Internet: photographer unknown

breathe

I'm ill. I'm pouty. The girl wants to come out to play but she's really not well enough to come out from under the blanket.

The date is set, I am hoping to be well enough to play with Local Dom on Friday. He thinks not. I say Pleeeeeease Sir, Mister D. let me come up for air, let me breath.

He says, not if you are not up to it My girl.

We talked about stepping things up. Rougher and harder. This just makes me smile..I find I trust Him. Our first time together was a 'testing the waters' run. Now He knows what the girl needs. He knows how to play her. She needs this Friday..like air after a deep dive she needs to breathe..she needs to fly and float.

the quiet room

I was late, very late.
I threw on my shoes, those ones I can't easily walk in. I had walked quickly up the drive and found the door at the end. Slipping on my black patent peep toe shoes I knocked on the door.
He opened it.
I apologised
"I'm so sorry."
I had been extremely nervous, I felt like a girl. I had not felt like this since I was a girl.
He took it in his stride, assured me it was OK (at this time) and invited me in.
He lead me through a small outdoor courtyard to into warm dimly lit but inviting antechamber.

"Are you alright" He said it gently and was to check again and again during our time together.
I must have looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I nodded. I was nervous but He held my hand and pulled me further into the next room after closing the door behind me.

I walked in to a carpeted area. He let my hand go as I stared about this place. It was a purpose built room, warm and quiet, so very quiet and dimly lit. Some candles drew focus to dark corners of the room. It seemed like forever that I gazed at the furniture in the room. It was designed to restrict, to restrain. Shiny chains hung from the ceiling. Behind me was a small bathroom and outside the door though which I had just passed was a bedroom with an inviting four poster bed, plush and alive with possibilities.

My eye was drawn to the left and on a bureau within arms reached was all sorts of  delicious things layed out. There were paddles and floggers, nipple clamps, and a small plastic box of pulleys and chains and a white rounded wooden pole.  My eyes settle on a set of cuffs. Black with red trim. My fingers traced all of these things on the bureau. I luxuriated in the tactile sensations of the instruments under my fingertips.  There were other things but my eyes were too busy in the dim light to allow my mind to settle for too long on any formed thought.

Instead of nervous I was becoming excited.  I began to feel an overwhelming sense of belonging. I belonged here in this room with all of its magic unfolding in front of me.  He stood close behind me, watching me and whispering some words when I'd touch or notice things His hand gently running over my back and in my hair. It was soothing and exciting. It was easy...it was so easy, like I belonged right there in a way I am not aware I had ever felt before.

He led me to the centre of the room. He began to unbutton my top and slipped it off me laying it quietly on the chair.

He walked around me tracing his finger over my red red knock 'em dead bra. His fingers ran down my back and unlocked the tiny clasps of the red lace fabric, freeing my breasts.

"Take off your skirt."

I closed my eyes and took a breath holding it. I couldn't watch what came next as I did as I was instructed.

Alice was leaping down the rabbit hole, naked in front of a man other than her non-Dom. She hadn't known anyone else in over 15 years. She was beginning to think like a Mills and Boon novel!

"Hands behind your back."

That was the hardest bit.
Exposed
Being naked for Him the first time.
Standing while He looked at me. Not covering while he circled me. Touched me.
My pussy clamping down.
I closed my eyes and hid from Him, avoiding his eyes.

It was easy after that.
So easy.
So completely natural.

"Kneel"

He sat in front of me and put cuffs on me.
Pinching and stroking my nipples. Touching me.
Touched by another man.
 It was natural  and so very exciting....in the quiet room.

aftermath

He'll never read this, not here, but I will tell him..


I was exhausted last night.


Today I am very sore...muscles and the sting in my arse.


Cumming so much has left all my muscles reminding me of my adventure.
There are marks, pretty marks. I looked down and saw the red stripes across my breasts and I knew I had walked out of the fantasy to exactly where I needed to be.
I loved cumming, collapsing into you, supported by you, though I tried my hardest to remain standing.

It was great fun..I had soooo much fun. Was it supposed to be that much fun? I feel like a new addiction has begun. I have found my drug. I need it like air, this thing we called submission. I didn't feel particularly sub-like though. I was just having too much fun being cheeky and bratty, though I suspect I paid for it in an extra stroke or two.


My nipples are VERY sore, I had been warned about clover clamps, but I guess I didn't have much choice when all was said and done...OUCH!

I didn't think you were particularly rough. I think you were taking it easy on me. More please Sir. I wonder if you may have been caught off guard by my laughter and ...well frankly sense of  joy and just forgot to be too rough ..lol..it was so much fun though. This kinky little chick also loved the tears. That gammit of emotional places to which you lead me.


I came home and had a bath nursing the sting in my arse and the memories in my minds eye, tears rolled from my eyes from the release I felt. So much attention from you. I felt very selfish.


It was exactly what I needed, where I needed to be and so much more than I expected. Relief in being allowed to let go, and I did let go. Relief in being allowed to be who I want to be, who I am, deep inside.


The picture could have been me. The flogger, the heels, the wriggly lil girl. Squirming, writhing, avoiding. With each stroke the sting became more acute. Then the spank of your hand propelling me forward. Your touch caressing, soothing the sting., wiping the tears from my cheek. 

Thank you...so much x

virgin play

Yes!
He is well!
Tomorrow is the day
I am very excited
I am a little anxious
I am cleanly shaved as instructed.
I have the skirt, picked out the top, suitably shorter and tight, a little slutty.
So much discussion went into the dress...I have a great dress but without a zip up the back..an essential part of tomorrow, He wants a zip.
I am beginning to think tomorrow will be choreographed...
It must be a skirt then.
He has decided on my red bra..the one he saw when he pinched my nipple.
No panties (as usual). He said I could decide, to wear panties or not. I didn't want to make the decision. So He did...No panties.
Heels. Black, patent, peep toe, come fuck me heels.
My make up, He wants it how He has already seen it...less is more he says.

At 11,
Walk up the drive.
Knock on the door, I will be there.

waiting..3 sleeps

It's 1130 pm and non-Dom is in bed. I can't sleep. So many things are playing on my mind.

We have plans to meet, to play. It will be my first experience with a Dominant man in the flesh.

I feel lots of things. Excited, relieved - it's been such a long journey and this feels like a culmination of that journey.

I am nervous and a little scared though not too much. I feel the trepidation of a school girl. I remember all those butterflies when I was young. I am counting sleeps (when I remember). A girl in a candy shop.

I ask myself, will it be grand? will it be fun? will it lift me? or will it bring me down?

He will be a Dominant play partner, a teacher, an instructor. He is no great love, I am not in-love nor is he. There is no illicit affair. Non-Dom knows and has approved which means there is no guilt for me (yay!). I have been wracked with guilt in the past as I explored this alone and in the dark. Non Dom suspecting but not knowing.

Bad news today though. Local D is unwell and so our play may never eventuate. * She buries her sweet virginal head in her pure creamy hand. Sigh. Ever the glass half full kind of girl she, like Scarlett her silver screen heroine, will think about this tomorrow.

Julia Bedenko

when coffee isn't just coffee

Well things are moving along. I met with local D again, just for coffee..but when is coffee just coffee? I am beginning to be made aware. The further I go the more naive I am reminded I am though this doesn't actually bother me. I am a pretty 'take it at face value' kind of girl. This makes for an enjoyable journey. No hidden agendas are suspected or indeed exist (on my part at least). My naivety makes for delicious surprises at every turn. Take a morning coffee for example. I had dressed for morning coffee when the *ping heralded a message.

No panties as usual (usual! what's usual we have met only once before, once does not a usual make.)...and today I want to see more of you, more cleavage thank you, if that means no bra then so be it. Show me the slut you are.

I became very nervous all of a sudden. What on earth was I going to do in temperatures approaching winter in order to expose those parts of myself  'usually' (in the true sense of the word) reserved for summer frocks.

One dress after another came out of the wardrobe, until I found just the right one. Cleavage...tick (with bra). Daytime...tick. High heeled boots and fish nets....tick. Slut...not so much, but it would have to do. I opted not to don the red red knock 'em dead lips and darkly painted eyes..clearly I have a long way to go in tapping into my slut when instructed to do so. All this for morning coffee!

Our meeting was fabulous. I arrived at exactly the time I was told to arrive (such an obedient lilone). He was already sitting with coffee which had been half drunk. He must have arrived sometime ago. He rose to kiss my cheek as I walked to the table, whispering in my ear 'that is beautiful', his eyes falling to my exposed breasts. I felt the flush in my cheek already and the flush between my thighs wasn't far behind.

He ordered coffee for me and we talked for what seemed like forever. A date was set for the main event. A meeting for 'play'.

Nearing the end of our meeting the breathless and very hot girl was sent to the bathroom with instructions to make herself the slut she wants to be.

My head was mushy and I was having trouble navigating the journey through the room on my return from the bathroom. A group of four men had gathered at a table between where I had to be and where I was.  Sizing up the spaces between them and the wall I picked my best root so as not to accidentally fall into them in my unsteady state. My exposure did not go unnoticed and I swear they knew what a slut I had just become. Glancing over to local D, the glint in his eye told me he was enjoying my dilemma and the acute sense of embarrassment I had begun to feel.

We walked to the car park, the moisture between my legs reminding me of the slut I was becoming.

As we stood in the car park to say goodbye he kissed my cheek. Pulling back he said 'I am going to do something'. I looked up at him my naivety kicking in in spades. I gasped and whimpered as his hand reached out and found its mark. He was inside my bra, broad daylight, public car park rolling my nipple between his fingers tips, pinching, pulling, hurting just a little. I held my ground. No protest, no pulling away. I caught myself thinking...OMG this is hot! Such a simple act. My dripping cunt responded with my nipple. I closed my eyes, held my breath and like Alice, I jumped feet first into the rabbit hole.

anticipation

I am aware that the anticipation in me is acute.

The time draws near. He will let me know..the time, the date.

Limits are set (in the first instance). Safewords, damn I can't even remember those!

I am at the point of nervousness where I could scream.

The need for the reality to match the dream, the anticipation, the hunger. I am nearing an edge that makes me want to cry.

I feel small,

tiny,

alone,

a little adrift and lest I say out of control.

Already vulnerable, like noone can stop it.

and just a bit scared.

artist unknown

intermission

I almost put the brakes on yesterday with local-Dom. He upset me a little, over nothing significant... but this blasted IM! One can't hear inflections in the voice and he showed me we were not meeting in the mind...but then other times....

Anyway I logged off and thought about things over night and in the morning I was willing to give it away. I could feel the frustration and panic growing in me and I was making up stories in my head. I had earlier sent him a message to say I was no longer going to push or drive this in any way. It was all up to him and that I had given him an indication that I wanted to move forward with him a while back, but now I was handing it over to him. "My gift to you," I said. You can tell I was still a bit miffed (irritated).

I need someone to take things away from me...I don't want to be a decision maker anymore, other than to decide to follow, to bend..a little scary but I think I have reached that point with local-Dom.

I keep wondering why I am concerned that we are not completely compatible. He would not be anyone but a passing acquaintance to me in vanilla street. He wouldn't be a best friend. Just a nice enough bloke that you might see at a BBQ occasionally. So I say to myself, "what am I concerned about, I don't want a relationship with this man, I don't want to talk about world politics and philosophy with him (though that level of meeting of the minds does get my blood boiling). I just want this man to control me...hit me, beat me, whip me!"...lol (sick puppy).

I asked to phone him. We talked, it was better and after a long conversation we agreed that we needed to move forward. So I will move forward with him. I believe he will look after me, he is sensitive to the fact that this is my first experience, he says all the right things and one can only trust that when entering into a new world.

I spoke also to non-Dom today, honouring our agreement to keep him informed and in the loop. I said I had been talking to local-Dom and we were trying to find a suitable date to 'meet'. He looked at me and said "I thought 'we' were thinking of such and such a date."  I almost fell over!!! He said it with pure acceptance. I felt I finally had the absolute, no reservations permission I had been seeking. All these years together and I felt like I had finally worked him out! I finally realised that pushing him for answers, acceptance, permission is not the way. Planting small seeds and letting them grow, nurturing them, letting things percolate is the way that he feels less threatened and the way he is able to accept, but oh my is that a challenge to my sense of patience (or impatience more accurately).

Anyway that's it! The stage is set and I am beginning to feel very excited, nervous and ...loved. ha!? How is that possible?  I had earlier said to non-Dom, 'Thank you, for allowing this, I know how hard it is and thank you." Non-Dom replied, "This doesn't mean I don't love you." (I never doubted that).. and I said "..and this doesn't mean I don't love you".

(music up...the theme from Gone With The Wind plays...and the hapless lovers embrace as the screen shows Intermission in big bold letters).

Time for ice-cream and popcorn.

the wand

Sir, I have begun to think about the wand.
It is in my bedside cupboard.

Unused since the day it arrived in the post.

True to my word, obedient to Your instruction, "don't use it," you said.

But I want it, Sir.

I have been thinking to ask you...can I use it?

I want to show you..and me, prove I can be strong, brave.

In weaker moments I think, what the hell..he is not my Sir yet. He has not touched me.

What can He do?

arrrgh!

Sir Please, please can I put it to my pussy, touch my clit, that sensitive purring

button.

Sir Pleeeeasssse!

Please Sir, I need it...I can't wait any longer..Please... Sir.

the olives slid down her gullet

The Olives no sooner slid down her gullet than he said

"Do you know what you are going to do now?"

She looked at him. She was nervous but she she felt her eyes twinkle with anticipation.

"Do you?"

"No," she stammered "but I suspect you are going to tell me."

The corners of his mouth turned up. He had warned her that he never forgot anything and this time her smart mouth was going to be her downfall. He liked it when she risked her well being with her smart arsed comments. He was going to enjoy very much adjusting her attitude in that area, not too much, not to damage her spirit, just enough to help her think twice about the consequences which may ensue.

"Yes I am."

He rose the icy drink to his lips and took a deep, long and slow swallow. Placing the glass in front of her he leaned forward, his lips to within millmeters of her ear.

"I want you to go to the bathroom. You will cum. Twice. Taste yourself."

She gasped and pulled back from his hot breath curling around her ear. She met his gaze. At once excited and shocked. This was their first meeting. On top of that he was her first real experience with a Dom man. She had expected to have a drink and talk. She expected that mutual decisions would be made about whether or not they continued. She had followed instructions and not worn panties. She had not expected to have to undertake futher instruction to cum, in public. She felt acutely her naivety. She knew at once she would comply. She was the most excited she had been in a long time. She felt the gush between her thighs. As she rose he said, "...and I will smell you when you return. Go quickly now."

Sir is not Master

Michael wrote a comment that cut like a hot knife to the core of my dilemma on the last post

Everyone has to find their own balance, but I know my slave/wife Serafina would say this is an example of why an individual can't truly ever serve but a single Dom/Master/Mistress.

When you say that "non-Dom" takes precedence, it should become clear that Sir is a dominant play partner but not truly a Master. By definition, a true Master would always take precedence . . .

At first this comment caused me swoop down, dragging my chin on the ground as the impossibility of what I am searching for sank into my psyche. Michael is very very right and I know it. I have always known it. Somehow I hoped I could experience serving (to use the popular vernacular) a Master-Sir while still honouring my non-Dom.

Nope, can't be done. The best I can hope for is to learn through play. To pretend to serve (that vernacular again). The Master-Sir will be a 'Dominant play partner' nothing more, nothing less. Is this then a reason to risk the happiness of my non-Dom? I broached the subject with non-Dom (who by the way has begun to control the pantie issue with some amount of structure!). On advice from another source (Ty Daddy), I explained to non-Dom that if he was able to really step up, to take the bull by the horns, control the slut by the short and curly's, the delicious little whore would quite possibly not ever feel the need to search for another. His answer surprised me..made me a little hot and again gave me that permission I have courted for a very long time.

'There's something about sending you off to be used, punished by another man who will send you back to me red arsed, that I like...a lot'

I do love it when my non-Dom expresses his kink.

So, I agree 100% with Michael's and Serafina's point. I don't like it but i agree with it. Unfortunately not everyone and I am included amongst this unfortunate lot, has had the luck to find the One who is their significant other AND their Dom/Master/Mistress. Ours is a fate that does not hold with it the perfect conditions to 'truly ever serve but a single Dom/Master/Mistress.'

Bill Brandt: Camden Hill

Master vs Sir

OK a problem has presented itself!
Remember  I asked can a girl serve two Masters?

Well this week the instructions are conflicting.
Sir says 'No panties all week'.
Non-Dom? He has decided to choose my panties all week!

Arrrrgh..of course non-Dom will take precedence. Is there some way Sir will accept this? Arrrrg!

can the delicious little whore have it all?

The girl wants her cake, and a bloody big spoon to eat it!

Let them eat Cake! she cries.

What, you might wonder, is she on about this time? As you may or may not be aware, I have come perilously close to 'playing' with a local Dom man. The stage is set, the lights are on, the audience is seated and hushed...now we wait for the action. Exciting times on the brink wondering when or even whether it will begin in earnest.

But! and here's the thing..the girl is still unsatisfied. Arrrgh! Why she wonders, is she pouting and stamping her foot! Because she still desperately wants this man, the One to be her non-Dom. She fantasises in quiet moments that she might have the luxury of two Dom men. One she loves...and one who might 'hit me, beat me, whip me, make me write bad cheques."

Can the girl have it all?

Can she have two Dom men?.. or three?..or..no now thats just being silly!

Can a dog have two Masters?

Will her non-Dom explore his fledgling Dom and exert control?

Will the new man, the experienced local Dom move to take his control?

This and more to be answered in up coming episodes of the Willing Slut, Apply Within.

photographer unknown

he wants me, he wants me not, he wants me! or Yo-Yo slut

My non-Dom, my loved partner is having trouble with his decision.
Allowing me to seek a Master, Daddy, Sir , Dom outside our relationship was to say the least brave. Some say expressing his love for me.

I went on the journey of discovery. I met a man, a potential Dom. We have been talking for a long while. I am in no rush, frustrated but in no rush. The local man has been patient. Now my non-Dom is struggling. He doesn't say anything but we have been together a long time, I see his struggle. He hasn't said 'stop' though he has the power to do so, but he is not happy.

A dilemma

My non-Dom told me to set up two email accounts, one for him, one for me. A response to me wanting to send him an email. He has never really explored D/s, the writings, the information out there. I wanted to share some sage words from Dom men. He does not have access to this blog and only recently knew of its existence. I admit I find it hard to trust him with my secrets which I can so easily share in anonymity with the blogging world.

So I set up the email addresses. He chose the names. He sent me an email.

Are you ready for the fun and games, my beautiful slut?

Those few words from him could sustain me more than all the chat with all the Dom's in the world.
but we have been near here before...

olives

The warmth of the fire licked her back. The remains of the shared meal and wine was on the table.  No thank you she gestured, she couldn't eat anymore, thank you.

"There," he pointed, "those olives, you will eat them."

"No thank you I am full, replete, I couldn't eat anymore."

He looked her in the eye. She met his gaze.

"You will eat those olives, we will sit here until you do."

Such a small thing, those two little olives shining wet in their oil. Sitting in the corner of her dish. Just on the corner, small and undemanding. They were happy to rest.

The heat grew between her legs as she lifted her fork. She stabbed the oil laden skin of the green olive. Lifting it t her lips the aroma of the oil filled her nostrils. Her mouth watered. One after another they went into her mouth. Her eyes never leaving his.

It had begun..with an olive, she has given herself. what was to follow?

thrill?

I met the local man today. We had a drink and lunch. You may be pleased to hear that I was very obedient and wore no panties as instructed. After an initial nervousness we were able to talk.

I still need to process things. I am a thinker, a reflector. I examined everything in the most painful detail. I have in the past been accused of thinking toooo much. huh! indignant*
I look at all the possibilities, all the potential outcomes arrrgh..just JUMP L!

At one point he reached over to me and pulled me to him...a kiss on the cheek and a whisper in the ear. I was surprised to notice I wasn't at all nervous (another man's touch), guilty (another man's touch) or feeling awkward (another man's touch). It makes all the difference having my non-Dom's permission. I didn't feel any sexual thrill at his touch either. There was no spark of tense anticipation. It just felt natural. I was a little disappointed at that, but mostly I was pleased. I felt that if there wasn't that girly thrill at a mild touch then somehow that won't threaten my relationship with my non-Dom by putting the temptation of another thrilling man in my path. But is this enough to fill the need in the girl?

The whispered words and kiss on the cheek and his hand on my neck made me feel warm and like I'd done well..(it was in response to something I had done)...the old 'good girl' feeling. This time though it was real, it was tangible, it was immediate. No LDR, no online Dom..but real. I am a needy girl for 'real'.

As I sat thinking oh n this won't work, I don't have that thrill of the physical attraction, I realised that was really not why I needed him. I need him to fill a role. A recreational activity. I admit I feel a bit mercenary about that attitude, but I also think that it may work on that level...maybe not.

Anyway these are just initial thoughts..need to think and process a bit more. Am i being mercinary, desperate? Is the thrill essential outside play? Thinking too much?

unknown photographer

on the eve of meeting

A quick note..

Tomorrow is the day.
The place is set,
the time,
the task...no panties please.
The weather has turned cold and I so wanted to wear a summer frock!

There is no great love story,
no flutter of the heart.
I am meeting him and he me because our needs must be met.
I have grown fond of him during the last months of talking, text, phone and computer.

So tomorrow...what will I wear (besides no panties). Just to meet, to see if we click. No floggers, whips or cuffs. Just a wine, maybe a lunch.

I don't know what he looks like. I find that a little exciting. He knows what I look like. I know nothing except he reports he's clean shaven, short haired, green eyed and a few years my senior. I like the thought that he could be sitting at another table, unknown..watching.

This is the only time this will ever be.

artist unknown

another day older and deeper in debt...she owes her soul to the company store

oh my! deeper with Horizon Dom!
I stayed up far too late. Burn brightly...hmm my mind is reminded of the cautionary tale of Icarus. Wings melting. We all know how that ended.

A bit of self talk.."Jump L, just jump!"

artist unknown

he walked into view

Yesterday afternoon I was cruising around a chat site. Not one I visit as a matter of course and there he was, knocking on my little box (yes draw the pun out for your amusement, it was purposeful).

He knocked, I answered.I don't mind saying he has anchored himself securely in my mind (for today at least..you will remember the inconstant girl I am).

He is in another city, some distance away but not so far as to be unreachable. I liked how his mind worked. I liked his skill in asking questions, interesting questions. He had me dumbfounded, searching for words, searching for answers. Pushing but not threatening to me.  The first question was not..'what do you look like?" I loved that. It was clear he wanted to connect cerebrally, then pay attention to the other more superficial albeit important issues of 'what do you look like?'

He won my confidence at lightening speed. He was Flex with a local accent. I will be interested to see where, if anywhere, this goes.



unknown photographer