The Fire Inside


Today, somewhere out in this world, it is a beautiful wispa willow’s birthday. It felt so odd to see her name again on my twitter timeline. She and I’s special friendship was crushed in the dank and ugly claws of my husband. I had no choice but to keep his secret or he swore to take my life. I have sent my apologies and explanations through various people. I have never said a bad word about her or the time we knew each other. Opposite really, I treasured it and her.

In the darkest season of my life, she brought me back to life. Geppetto’s touch to a doll of wood. She unlocked the fire inside of me, sat besides its glow and held my hand without fear of scar. Her beautiful doe eyes and mine shared a secret…. Just as our lips stole a few moments now and again.  She could match me drink for drink and bawdy joke for bawdy joke, yet instead of two sailors we looked like two pig-tailed children sat side by side catching butterflies.

I would look forward to every time we would all meet up in Lincoln. An escape into my truth. A heart kiss with an exquisite woman. A slide into my past me. I could be a girl lover with no fear of recriminations or judgement. I could wear my kinky boots with pride and be celebrated for it instead of scorned.

An occasion came… I offered, she laughed with her head thrown back, her eyes glinting. A lusty glaze answered for the both of us.

my spirit picture

If you listened closely you could hear the match strike the book….I took over the party. I passed out food, juggled drinks, flirted with all and many. I hugged children, raced the clouds and peddled my party bike bake and forth for wine and ice.  My cowboy hat and flame red hair, my curvy tan figure played foil to her ethereal lithe brunette verve.

And then it was dark. And my fire had run to embers of low burning coal. She was so different than I . I believed there was only one true way. I was submissive in sex and rowdy headstrong in living.  Her coquettish eyes said we can play this out however you want, but don’t let fear keep you from it. I fumbled at first, lost myself and then as the music played that only we seemed to be able to hear, I found my way.

In losing control, giving control, gaining control. Touching in both the male and female way, I became instead of a gender, just a sexual being. There was no wrong way to act. It was just exploration and touch. A bit of my heart, unlocked from its dormant sleep crept in between us. I did not fear my bodies curves and valleys. she was blind to my scars. She was receptive to the burn of the fire within me, so I let it blaze.  I laughed so hard at one point from sheer happiness she covered my mouth to keep me from waking the house. We were both, a weird morph of Peter Pan and Wendy flying above it all, watching the inferno crackle.

It was singularly one of the most beautiful, enchanting nights I have ever spent with anyone.

The dawn comes, as it does everyday if you are lucky. There was no rueful.. just giggles. I left and returned home. My husband in one of his usual rages was on about some crazy matter or another. My bubble of happiness burst. The suffocation of being shamed for what and who I am returned. The unloved woman trapped in a relationship that was a fictitious love story began to crack and shatter. He mocked and snarled that I had spent my time off with perverts and sluts and he hoped I enjoyed it.  That I was sick for wanting what I wanted. That I was cunt whore for loving sex so much. He took the passionate Newt Kai inside of me, MY true self and bore her down to be crushed under his heel. I heard my son wake and come down the stairs and I begged him to quiet.  He wouldn’t. My son sensing immediately something was very wrong jumped in front of me. MY husband raised a knife to both of us and began slicing the air in front of us. A lark of a madman. He looked insane and the fact that he so frightened my son broke something in me. I pushed my son behind me and walked directly to the point of his knife.

The warrior that had been unlocked would not die back down. Stab me then I said, but actually do it instead of prance about. He stood stunned. I handed my cellphone to my son. I said, he stabs me and you calls the police.  Instead with all of his might and he was a huge bastard of a man. He backhanded me, blood everywhere from my nose and mouth, my chin. My son ran so fast towards the house I had just returned from. I hastily wiped the blood and followed. People heard the ruckus of us coming. It was a sedate village. It was a places of secrets and shame. And now my son knew my deepest shame of all

I lied about the blood. I lied about his fists. But the fire-eater knew, never believing me. And in the end later when she fought him for making me lie and hide. I asked them all to leave. He told me if I ever told her or anyone the truth he would finish what he had started.

That is where the story should end.

But it doesn’t and I will never have the chance to tell you this, so now I send it into the ether.

We were in the Narrows, drinking spicy mojitos with our friend. You laughed so hard with me. You gave me such strength with your company. You were a veteran of a war I was only beginning to fight. As much as you found my fire alluring, I found the same in your steel. In our many conversations about kink, online and off, I admired the way in which you did not bow to what is expected. You made the taboo normal for me.You never followed, you led and it showed in your perfect posture, which “persona” u chose to share and the quirk of your bee stung red lips. Van Morrison came on  and I had a moment of school girl crush. Your friendship meant so much to me, dare I just? And I did. I have never regretted it.

There is a passage in that song that was playing

“Ain’t goin’down, no more to the well
Sometimes it feels like, I’m going to hell
Sometimes I’m knocking, on your front door
But I don’t have nothing, to sell no more”

That’s how I felt after our friendship ended. So I decided that was it for my bi side. Because I seem to feel it deeper if that’s possible. I wrote it off as ever happening with any woman again.

But it seems now in writing this, that would be just another black mark on what was so freeing about you. Because you wanted me to be exactly as I was and am. Filled with an unquenchable fire that knows no gender or fear.

So Happy Birthday, You beautiful creature. I hope you will always know love and happiness, lust and laughter.  Thank U for playing with my fire without fear of burn.



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