Made of what again?

Of all of the people I know, only Hal has the knack of showing up in my dreams.

Let me back that up.  I dream a lot.  My pagan side, and pagan contingent of friends, could expound on the reasons for that for basically ever, and that's cool.  But basically, I dream a lot.  I also tend to remember my dreams, and I try to make an effort to write them down.

References to people I know happen all of the time.  Like, having my grandmother's necklace, or being at my parent's house, or their church, or whatever.  But people I know?  Don't often show up.  I don't recall ever dreaming about Jay, or about my grandmother, or about my father.  My mom will show up sometimes, but other than that, that's it.

That's not to say there aren't people in my dreams.  They are, I just don't know them "in real life", if that makes sense.  They're people in the dream, and in the dream, I know them well, but they don't correspond to someone I know in the corporeal world.

Hal, on the other hand, shows up all the damn time.

He shows up in all kinds of dreams - happy ones, neutral ones, nightmares.  He was being stalked by a serial killer in one; that was a good time.  We were in a burning building, in another.  And he's taken me for rides on his motorcycle, been at parties with me, and more.

As for why he continually shows up, I haven't a clue.  Perhaps its my brain filling in information that I don't yet know about him? Wishful thinking? Not really sure.

Conversely, Joseph reports that he dreams about ME all the time.  And Jay?  Jay never remembers his dreams.

Number 19 - someone who pesters your mind - good or bad

Oh Hal -

We, are going to get ourselves in to trouble.

Do I show up in your dreams, the way you show up in mine?  Do you wake up with my name on your lips and the uncanny sensation that if you open your eyes, you'll see me in your bed, the way I think I'll see you in mine?  When we touch, do you feel the same certain, unshakeable peace that I do?  That unutterable sense of right-ness?

I remain firmly convinced that you and I have known each other before, boyo.  You are so familiar to me, and have been from day one in this go-round.  When we first met, I was obsessed with figuring out who you were to me before, and the longer I know you, the less important that is.  I'm more interested in figuring out who you are now, in this life, for good or ill.  Who and what you will be to me this time.

I wonder that no one else talks about it.  What seems so obvious to me - does no one else see it?  Am I imagining everything?  Is this all some flight of my own fancy?  I feel as if we are pushing the limits of acceptable behavior so far, and yet no one has commented on it to me.  I have heard no gossip.  There have been no negative consequences and I cannot imagine that what we are doing really wouldn't be subject to any.  Am I really that wrong?

Do you know that the only other person who uses possessives in conjunction with my name is my husband?

Do you want me to be yours in more than words?

I know that the situation demands not only that we not be anything more to each other, but also that you not disclose any more than you already have.  My intuition is telling me that you'd like very much to do and be more with me, but I like hearing the words.  And no matter how often I am right, I doubt my own intuition very much.  I doubt my read of the situation without independent verification.

Do you think of me?  Do you reach out and wish you could touch me?  Do you want to call me a thousand times a day just to share a thought, an observation, something you know I'll laugh at?  Do you go home on the nights we work together, and smell just that hint of me on your clothes, on your skin, and does it make you smile?  Do you wonder how I taste?  Do you wonder what would happen if we kissed?

Do you fantasize about me?  Do you wonder what it would be like to touch all of me?  Do you wonder what it would feel like if I were touching all of you?

Do you wonder if I'm kinky, and how I'm kinky?  Do you think about what I'd look like with a collar around my neck and the leash in your hands?  What it would feel like to have me call you "Sir" and not just be kidding?  What it would feel like to have my lips around your cock and my hands on your skin and to fist your hands in my hair and finally, finally take me?  Do you wonder what kind of magic, what kind of fireworks we could make together?

I don't trust easily, and I trusted you from the moment we met.  I don't often let others touch me, and I let you touch me from the moment we met.  I know you, darling, I know you very well.

Do you know me?

Do you want to?

with love,

~Mme.

Explanations

I probably shouldn't be surprised that I've been having the dreams I've been having lately.  First, everyone seems to be having vivid dreams lately, especially last weekend and in to this week.  Secondly, it's been a hell of a week.  I'm stressed, but almost touching on euphoric, really.

Monday I worked with Hal again.  I like to think our relationship is maturing, seeing as how we are now capable of getting things done while laughing and falling all over ourselves.  It's kind of nice, actually.

What was not nice - and I don't mean that negatively, just that "nice" isn't the word at all - was that on Monday, we wound up not talking.  Probably because we were busy gazing in to each others' eyes.  Like, seriously gazing.  There are a number of reasons that Hal is off-limits right now, but oh good lord, that boy is dangerous.

Tuesday, I was in a training session at work that was largely not applicable to me.  Being an immature sort, I was chatting away on my BlackBerry.  Joseph and I had quite the conversation.  Said conversation led to our indulging in a bit of simultaneous naked camera time, which we haven't done in god knows how long.

I always seem to feel particularly vulnerable after engaging sexually with Joseph.  Intellectually, I know that he's attracted.  He's told me as such - and shown me.  I apparently need more aftercare than he's capable of providing from where he is, and I'm not sure if I mean that physically or emotionally.  Probably a bit of both, now that I think about it.  He's very much a "sensory" type - that is, his focus is on his senses.  His writing is full of those sorts of details - how things smell, taste, look, sound.  Me?  Not so much.  And I definitely am feeling vulnerable, four days later!

Basically, I need some reassurance.  Have I explicitly mentioned this?  Of course not.

But anyway, with the intensity of what's been going on this week, it's probably no wonder that both Hal and Joseph have been making regular appearances in my dreams.  I could live without waking up feeling like I'm in a bed surrounded by people.

Of course, I think I could happily live if that happened in reality on a regular basis, so maybe I shouldn't complain too much.

But when your first thought of the day is "jesus god have mercy" or a related variant, it's a little trying, I have to admit.

With a capital 'T'

I've been seeing a lot of Hal recently, which has led to a lot of very interesting conversations.

I saw him Wednesday, and long story short the conversation ended with me saying that if he was going to be "torturing" our mutual friend on Wednesday, then he was aware that he'd have to torture me on Thursday when we were working together, right?  To which he responds "Of course, but the difference is, you want it."

Thursday's session also included him asking "Wait, so who's the sadist and who's the masochist here?"  Responding with "Oh honey, I'm a switch" just seemed a bit too beyond the pale, although I am reconsidering.

Our conversations are always relatively flirty, and he's also admitted that he likes messing with my head as much as I like messing with his.  But lately there's been a lot of kink-hints included, and I'm not the one bringing them up.  I am not entirely sure what to make of this situation, and what to think about that boy, that is for damned sure.

Sometimes I think life is designed as a torment to me

So just what am I supposed to think when, as part of a costume, Hal had a pair of leather cuffs danging from his belt?

"Oh fuck yes, I knew he was top-ically inclined"?

And here you thought you were predictable!

For a long time I would have said that when I'm mightily stressed, I'm completely uninterested in sex.  This week - well, this past month, really - seems determined to prove me wrong.

I work full-time, as does Jay.  I'm not in the field I'd prefer to be, but I do something I'm damned good at, and I like my boss, so that helps.  Work's been... busy.  Really busy.  I don't have enough hours in the day, etc. and so on, blah blah blah.  Added on top of the busy bullshit, this has been the week of my name getting associated with shit that is so not even close to my demesne.  I have job duties.  I'm pretty clear about them with people.  And no less than four times in the past three days has my name been listed as the responsible one for things that I don't even have the slightest clue about.

That is intensely frustrating for me.  If I might indulge in a bit of bragging, I know a fuckton of things.  I am a wealth of knowledge, which is actually part of my job description.  But I don't lie about what I don't know - I'll be very blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people I don't have a fucking clue.  And I'll also be blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people that it's not my job, and they need to speak to the person who does own it.

So when others fuck up and put me on the hook for things I shouldn't be, I am irritated.  I am even more irritated when it results in hundreds of emails and phone calls to me (oh, if only I were kidding).  Let's talk about the fact that answering my phone is pretty much my least favorite part of my job, hmmmm?  (And how my voicemail is now changed, and I don't have to answer it this week, with my boss' permission.)

So a lot of things have been conspiring to make me stressed.  And I, oh, I am all about the sex.

Jay and I have had sex every night for the past week, and almost every night for the past month.  Joseph is all up in my business again (shocking, I know) and that is totes okay with me.  Hal's been on his game as well, and let's talk about the lovely comments we've made to each other.  The imagination?  In overdrive.  And the dreams I've had!  Good lord!

And yet I am so stressed that rather than join Jay at an activity tonight that we both enjoy and I adore, I opted to stay home.

What.

To be sure, I am not complaining.  I am slightly confused, but I am not complaining (okay, maybe I'm complaining about not being able to go two nights without dreaming of Hal in an inappropriate way, but other than that...).  Perhaps my self has decided that since sex is a highly effective stress-reliever, it does not behoove us to not indulge?  Who knows.  But good lord!

Bitten

The first clue I had that perhaps my attaction to Hal was not entirely of the platonic sort was when he mentioned his fangs.

I have a very sensitive neck, and sensitive ears as well.  Jay has made me squirm and shriek just by coming near them, and a breath across the right patch of skin raises goosebumps down the entire corresponding side of my body, something which Jay finds endlessly entertaining.  I'm rather protective of these areas, as goosebumps are not my idea of fun very often.

Perhaps that's why I like to be bitten - having my ears gently gnawed, or my neck tenderly nibbled - or not so tenderly - is quite arousing for me.  Having other parts bitten is enjoyable as well, but the sensitivity of the skin on my neck and ears adds something to the deal.  Having my neck bitten makes my eyes roll back in my head as my entire body shudders in pleasure, my breath coming hot and heavy.

When I first met Hal, we immediately clicked.  You know how it is with some people, where you know immediately upon meeting them that they are absolutely supposed to be a part of your life and there was a part of you just waiting for them to show up?  That kind of click.  If it weren't for the circumstances under which I met him, which prohibit our having anything other than a professional relationship right now, he'd immediately have taken his place as one of my best friends ever.  He'd be the kind of friend to spend the night at the bar with me, take in a Sox game, just hang out and play video games, and have geeky, intense, ridiculous conversations with late at night.  He would be, as I told him, one of "the posse".

We discovered early on that we're geeky in so many similar ways, although he has an unfortunate preference for Spider-Man rather than Batman.  We discussed games, and more comics, etc. and so on and were talking more about our personal lives when he mentioned the pair of fangs he owns.

My fevered little brain immediately granted me the image and sensation of him using those fangs on my neck.

Up until that moment, I would have sworn - in fact, did, to Vinnie - that everything was strictly platonic.  I was mostly kidding myself, I think; most of our conversations consisted of the sort of flirting one sees in the "I make fun of you because I like you" stage, although I really was somewhat convinced that it didn't mean anything other than two friends good-naturedly ragging on each other.  Clearly, my body and mind had other ideas, as they have frequently told me since.