I like to positively surprise myself. It’s a feeling of pride mixed with disbelief, fueled by curiosity about what will happen next.
I had a rather extraordinary encounter yesterday. It had been planned for a month, with the anticipation built up by a package containing some intriguing gadgets.
Taylor flies to Chicago once a month, sometimes a bit more often. I can’t quite find the right adjective to describe his personality—I’m not sure which traits are the most defining. He could easily be my brother; I trust him implicitly—to the point that even if he were to do something against me, I would know it was ultimately for my own good.
After our first meeting, we were both so taken with each other that we began corresponding—specifically about our respective sexual needs. Given his high-ranking professional position, he mentioned that he sometimes enjoys feeling stripped of power. It’s a bit like my own situation, though in my line of work, I’m the one who brings other people’s ideas to life, making them feel incredibly real.
Our last scheduled meeting didn’t happen—I couldn’t make it—but he asked me to stop by his hotel, saying he had a bag of gadgets for me.
It wasn’t exactly on my way, but out of the respect I have for him, I granted his request.
Waiting for me there was a large bag full of kinky toys, which we went through together. He wanted me to take all of this with me, because he plans to use it on me next month. Fine by me.
I’m not afraid of the pain; what I fear more is that, at some point, I might just break. Losing independence.... intriguing and interesting. He also mentioned that he wanted to send the last toy by mail. I trust him, so I gave him my address.
In the package, I received a rather peculiar set called "Zeus". "ZEUS ELECTRO SEX is a full line of electro stimulation probes, vibrating electro wands, C&B play, and much, much more! Designed to arouse in ways never felt before."
I felt a little scared, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

We had arranged meeting around 3 PM —plenty of time for socializing and chatting—so, ever since I got back from my workout, I’d been thinking about what to wear to drive him to the absolute brink. I decided to pack a few different outfits; for the journey, I chose tight leather leggings, a black bra, and a black-and-red thong. Stockings and nine-inch heels were, of course, a must.

I took a shower, got dressed, and sat down to dry my hair. Suddenly, a rush of thoughts flooded my mind. I can blame the pills I’m stopping for this, or perhaps the universe was sounding the alarm. Starting with quotes from the emails Taylor had sent me: how he wanted to be my master, how he longed for us to connect through an exchange of bodily fluids, and how he dreamed of experiencing all of this in a very real, tangible way. At the same time, I recalled my own reply—that I wasn’t sure if such things were possible, as that kind of intimacy belongs to people who are in love. I’d told him he was welcome to try and make me fall for him, but that I couldn’t guarantee he’d succeed. Looming over it all was the image of how excited he’d be when he saw me—and the realization that I’d have to pretend I truly wanted to share myself with him so completely. A heavy, oppressive stress washed over me—a familiar feeling whenever I try to stray from the truth. I realized that I respect him too much to fake our sessions, so I decided to just tell him the truth about how I feel—that I love him, but as a friend. I started laughing out loud at myself. So much for being a seasoned escort! :P Girls with the similar profession would laugh of me. My friends have spoiled me by letting me just be myself... though, honestly, that’s probably something I should be happy about........
Another moment of hesitation... then more laughter. I can’t believe what I did, but I took off my outfit and put on my yoga gear instead. I decided I would go see Taylor and not take any money from him—we’d just sit and talk. I always try to treat others the way I’d want to be treated, so, just in case, I brought along my bag full of outfits and toys.
When I arrived, he greeted me with a really warm hug—it’s so nice to know that someone is genuinely happy to see me... I was happy to see him, too; I was just worried that my honesty might disappoint him.
Every encounter with him feels like it’s from another dimension. He always begins by asking me detailed questions about my life, my feelings, and my daughter—it’s almost like an interrogation, the results of which he uses to draw conclusions. And, in a way, that’s exactly what it is. Usually, by the next day, I’m the one drawing the conclusions—always to the benefit of my own life! :) But this time, I decided to start asking some detailed questions of my own. There have been quite a few coincidences in my life lately, and when there are this many, they stop being mere coincidences.
I told him about how I felt regarding this series of events—even the books he sent me fit the situation perfectly—and he just offered a mysterious laugh... a male Mona Lisa. I bombarded him with a flurry of questions, but being the highly intelligent person he is, he deflected them with questions of his own, promising to answer everything once he’d heard the full story of what’s been going on with me.
Fair enough!
I feel completely relaxed in his company; there’s no doubt in my mind that he cares for me like a true friend—I couldn’t possibly be anything but sincere with him. A lot has been happening in my private life lately, what is highly connected with school, intense training, and my conscious effort to stay grounded. Taylor, however, knows a thing or two about life; he observed that, while I am generally content, I also carry a significant amount of sadness within me. He hinted that he suspected this might be linked to my father’s death, but I denied it. It’s a strange feeling—when everything seems fine and everyone is healthy (though there aren’t many people in my circle, to be fair :P), yet something keeps giving me the impression that... well, that something is still missing for true happiness. I suppose I’d call it a sense of unfulfillment.
I answered honestly, admitting that he might be right about the source of my sadness—that for years I’ve been trying to find the answer to the question that’s been weighing on his mind, but I just don’t know. Not everyone will understand what I’m about to write, but I feel as though my soul is longing for something. It has been for a long time. I told my friend this, and he understood—but then, more questions followed. At one point, I felt incredibly foolish that he cared so much about me, and I felt guilty that I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I had to tell him—like a confession—right then and there!
So, I interrupted his aloud musings about me and explained that the nature of our meeting would be quite different from what he had expected. I told him I wasn’t sure if I could ever satisfy him in any way beyond just "friendly sex," as I knew I would never love him as anything more than a friend. 
He kept digging, coaxing every last detail out of me—he really has a gift for that, I must admit. :) 
He wasn’t angry; he just asked me not to be silly or leave, saying he simply wanted to cuddle and talk. I felt an immense sense of relief, so we cuddled up under a duvet, as it had started to get a bit chilly. I never pry into my friends' private lives—it’s a form of respect, a way of showing that I love them for the warmth, comfort, and ease I feel in their company, rather than for what they do for a living. Taylor and I are very much alike. He, too, carries a trace of sadness—something impossible to hide, yet almost intangible. He began to tell me about his life—childhood memories, his dogs, his parents, the holidays, his wife, and his son. I felt truly valued as a friend, because none of these stories were perfect. Usually, in conversation, people swap similar stories or offer comments based on their own associations. To this day, I don’t know if he planned this whole maneuver just to hear the story of my life up to the present moment, or if it just happened that way—but at some point, I realized that we’d gone from the time my grandmother taught me to smoke red Marlboros, through my catering business headquarters, all the way to the agony of dying from love while still very much alive. He deserves a medal; I’m not at all surprised that his job carries such a high level of responsibility—in fact, I’d go so far as to say he’s the kind of person who could actually write an instruction manual for being human. :)
We opened a couple of bottles of Coke Zero, and he gave me a tight hug, saying—with an unmistakable, genuine sincerity—that we were exactly the same. And yes, that was definitely a compliment. It was nearing 8:20, and since I had nearly an hour’s journey home, I suggested we take a look through my bags before I left and figure out what our next meeting might entail. He didn’t object. He mentioned that, as far as an outfit goes, he loves my yoga gear—but he also wanted to show me how "Zeus" works!!!!! The very thought of electric pulses sent shivers down my spine, but, as always, my curiosity won out.
He hooked it all up with a broad, proud grin.
He told me to lie on my back and pull up my shirt. In one hand, he held a metal plate attached to a chain; in the other, he held a device, which he promptly set aside. I noticed him pointing his index finger toward my stomach and started to laugh, saying, "So, are you going to play God now?" Just then, he touched my skin, and I felt actual, genuine electric currents. WOW!
It was quite pleasant—I had shivers all over my body! Taylor was as happy as a child that I enjoyed it, and he asked me to lie on my stomach. Being just as excited as a child myself, I followed his instructions without any hesitation, and this time the currents felt even stronger. The thinner the skin, the more intense the sensation—though he let me know he could control the power level. I suppose I’ll have to be good and submissive, then! :P Much like the time I once licked a frozen balcony railing, yesterday I felt the urge to lick his finger just to see what it would feel like to get a jolt of electricity on my tongue. As luck would have it, I ended up hitting my teeth against his finger instead—not pleasant at all; a perfect method for torture! We laughed our heads off, I packed my things, and we made plans to meet again. Naturally, I didn’t accept any money—it only served to confirm, once again, that there is nothing more precious than another human being, especially when that person is a devoted friend!!!! At this point, I’d like to send a shout-out to my angel, Apollo, who has been sending me several text messages every single day since April—messages meant to protect me—and I’ve already seen for myself that it actually works! :) Your chapter is yet to come!
The highlight of the evening was my conclusion regarding the topic of being transgender. A friend told me about a friend of his teenage son—someone who had undergone a gender transition. Taylor wanted to know what I thought about it. I said that it must be a truly terrible feeling to be trapped in one’s own body, and that as long as people are fully aware of the hormonal consequences, I have no objection. In fact, if you look at the last two or three months of my own life, I could also be considered "trans"—with the difference being that my transformation is taking place on a spiritual level. Following this line of thought, one could argue that we are all "trans," since each of us strives to satisfy our spirit and bring it into alignment with our body; in that sense, everyone is constantly undergoing some form of internal or external transformation.
I’d like to write a bit about the changes I’ve been going through; I hope it might serve as inspiration, and perhaps I’ll even arrive at some interesting conclusions myself along the way...
All my friends who have visited me since my break have surely noticed that I’ve tightened my personal boundaries. Before the hiatus—which followed my father’s passing—I always prioritized others over myself, often setting aside my own needs out of deference to someone else. Much like with my father, I would constantly sacrifice for his sake. Now, however, my own needs, feelings, and boundaries are just as important as those of my friends—and while they may not be thrilled about it, I certainly am. It’s not that I don’t enjoy receiving texts first thing in the morning or right before bed, but right now, I need time to focus on my studies, and every minute is worth its weight in gold. Besides, I’d like to reserve my deepest emotions for special occasions—I trust no one will hold that against me. Yoga practice saved me from falling into a deep depression. It all began because I wanted to help my daughter feel more comfortable in public spaces and ensure she got some regular physical activity; I already knew that boxing wasn’t her thing, and besides, it gave us a reason to take a drive together—away from the crowds—and just talk.
It was great from the very beginning—though "yoga sculpt" is truly intense; anyone who enjoys hardcore cardio should definitely give it a try. When my father ended up in the hospital, I found myself stuck there right alongside him. Later, he passed away, and I felt completely adrift, realizing that my little daughter was the only family I had left. I know now that nothing has changed in that regard, but the overwhelming emotions pulled me into a deep, dark hole—compounded by the dreams I was having almost every single day. All I wanted to do was sleep and stop thinking. Fortunately, one day the sun came out, and my friends—who wouldn't leave me alone—encouraged me to get up and head to yoga. Within a week, a single session wasn't enough; the endorphins really hit me. By the time school started, I had worked my way up to three sessions a day. I began to feel proud of myself and developed a genuine love for this practice. I started to wonder if I could somehow weave this into my future; the workouts make me feel good about myself, reduce my stress, get me out of the house more often, and—finally—people accidentally brushing against me no longer irritates me! :)
Today marks the start of my third week of school, and despite a bit of chaos in my schedule, everything is starting to make sense. Most importantly... I think I’ve finally managed to get some oxygen to my brain! :) Along with the shifts in my daily routine, I’ve made changes at home—in my living space, my fridge, my grocery shopping, and my overall needs. I don’t eat sugar. I try to get enough sleep, and while I still spend a lot of time thinking, my thoughts have become much more constructive. I treat food seriously—as fuel for my body—and I have kept my work to a minimum. I make an effort to write regularly, and I find joy in truly small things. I can confidently say that less is more. I don’t waste time choosing clothes, as I have a "yoga outfit" for every single day. I don’t spend time thinking about what to eat, because I eat the same thing every day. The time I used to spend texting friends, I now dedicate to learning; and if there’s any time left over, I spend it gazing intently at a painting—one that I know I’ll finish soon.
Oh, and I also ordered a slow-juicer so I wouldn’t have to overpay—now I press my own vitamins. A healthy mind in a healthy body! Every day, I arrive at new, significant realizations that motivate and uplift me. I’m almost tempted to say that life is beautiful—if only it weren’t for this loneliness... Taylor and I were talking about vacations yesterday, and I laughed, recalling how in my family home—or rather, my family "bunker"—we followed the "finger-on-the-map" rule. Work was always the priority, and now, years later—at 37—I don’t miss the idea of ​​"exclusive" vacations at all. But can one truly enjoy a vacation when alone?
Can one really savor an extraordinary meal while eating by oneself?
In my opinion, no. I believe it’s better to go anywhere—even just three miles from home—as long as you’re with someone who guarantees a good atmosphere. I’d rather settle for a quick, simple meal for the sake of better company; after all, it’s always nicer to sleep and eat with someone else. I’ll happily pass on the steaks and fancy oysters—when there’s no one to share them with, they taste worse than bland. I wrote, I reflected, and I got an answer :)

Four cats are definitely more than two. I find myself observing them more and more, frequently noticing behaviors that are typically human. 
The same applies to people. Oh, the wonders of observation! Lately, I’ve been asking everyone around me what kind of animal they would choose to be, if they had the chance. Surprisingly, many say they would prefer to remain human! As for those who do choose an animal, they fit their "avatars" perfectly. 
At different stages of life, we are watched over by the spirits of various animals; yet, I believe there is one core animal spirit from which we evolved. It turns out that the old tales about animals acting purely on instinct aren’t nearly as primitive as they seem—especially when you take a closer look at the interactions between different species. 


I’m off to grab some green apples, and then I’m disappearing. 
And yes, I’ll write a fairy tale of my own, in due time.

I have five minutes until my class, so I’d like to add an apology to anyone who feels offended by reading about my lovers. My Friday's friend told me, that he doesn't like to read about "others".
I have no other friends, and each of these people holds a special place in my heart; they are all different, and I love each of them in a unique way. The truth is, I am a woman who is not in a committed partnership, so I feel free to write about my polyamory—especially since I am the one most invested in that blog.

with love, peace and smile :)