Chloe (http://obey.thenaturalorders.com), (she’s on the blogroll over there…go, look!) had put out a post about the first words we ever said to our Dominant One.
I had a migraine the day i typed mine, so it was kinda incoherent. So for posterity’s sake, i’m redoing it, here.
First the words, then the back story. It’s funnier that way, trust me.
He said: “you know why he couldn’t make that turn, don’t you?”
nilla said: ” OMG! i thought he was going to kill me before i ever got the chance to fuck you!”
So if you’ve read any of the nilla back story, you may recall that i’m a vanilla, lesbian, wife/partner of 32 years w/4 kids. Met Sir via innernets (Thanks Fet Life!) and after hearing his side of things…it’s a miracle that we ever hooked up! Isn’t karma a good thing sometimes?
So we plan a meet, but he can’t make it…family emergency. Then we plan another meet, but it’s like 4 weeks later (my ability to schedule free time is more limited than his). Major nor’easter hits New England and although i didn’t get much snow (7 inches) his area got nailed by over a foot. Meet kaput.
So we plan another meet. We’re into our 3rd month online, texting, phoning. We’ve really gotten to know each other by now, and are really enjoying each other. We set a third date. Local for me. As in…5 minutes from my house, local. NO traffic woes, no getting lost…easy peasy.
He calls me from the hotel as i’m brushing my teeth. He’s there, time to come along.
nilla is dancing as she hurriedly dons coat, scarf, boots, mittens. It’s an absolutely frigid day. Brrrrrr. I get to the hotel in about 3 minutes (hey, it’s downhill!). Call him from the car as he asked. He says “wait there, I’ll come and get you.”
I get out of the car, go around to the other door to get my stuff out. Wind is whipping my hair all around my face, i’m blinded by it. Hear a noise. Look up. A fucking tractor-trailer (it’s a popular motel for truckers to rest in, with a restaurant there as well) is coming up the narrow lane. He’s going to make a turn just after my car to park his rig on the far side of the lot.
Can’t turn worth a fucking damn.
Backs up. I know Sir is on the sidewalk on the other side of the truck. I can see his legs. I’m standing between my car and Sir’s. Truck backs up. Tried to take the corner again. Can’t….. and is edging ever closer to nilla’s wee little matchbox car. And nilla.
Fuck. I’m going to be killed. Standing just here. And it’s like a funny, sick-o dream. My feet won’t move. I’m staring in horror at the truck, mouth open, wind whipping my hair everywhere…scared to death that this maniac is going to kill me before i ever, ever get spanked, tortured, fucked, or even kiss my Sir! While Sir watches. So much for the Vanilla Mom! She came, she tried, she was fucked…by a truck. Giggle….
Truck moves forward. There’s Sir…he gestures to me…calls out, “C’mon NOW, nilla” and i bolt across the parking lot, praying the fucking idiot won’t back up when i’m right behind him.
Fast forward to the two lines of conversation at the top. I’m gasping and laughing and Sir is gripping my arm tightly, as he leads me inside.
“All your fault, you know?” Sir says, looking down at me.
“huh” nilla responds brilliantly, still dealing with 1000 cc’s of adrenaline…
“He was lookin’ at YOU! You Fucking Blinded him with how pretty you are…”
(later, after much kissing and soothing of nilla… Sir tells me that he was sure that a guy would show up at the hotel. And how happy He is that “you’re all that you advertised, nilla-girl” …but that’s a story for another day….)