Unspoken Provocation

My Dear Passionate Sir,

I am really not sure where we were, but I think we were at the mall. I remember we stopped for some refreshments at a café. You ordered hot beverages for both of us and some food. I was sitting at a small, round table waiting for you. There was a little ledge to my right, upon which I propped my foot.

You returned with our victuals, and we started to eat in silence. I noticed you were studying me more intently than normal.  After a few moments of comfortable silence you looked at me very seriously and said, “If you don’t put your leg down, I am going to come across this table and do you right here and now.”

I blinked and blushed furiously (as you knew I would), but I did not break eye contact; the challenge was set. I picked up my mug and took a sip as I stared back at you. I did not put my foot down. I. Kept. It. Right. Where. It. Was. I didn’t say a word, and your gaze could have seared me on the spot.

You see my dear Sir, I figured out early on that you were used to people cowering under your fierce gaze. You met your match in me, as I do not cower. That’s not to say that you didn’t have me trembling, but it was for an entirely different reason altogether. Your look was fiery, sparking, and deliberate. I welcomed your challenge.

You slowly smiled at me, and I smiled in return. Without saying a word, it was mutually agreed upon that we would be going home after we finished. We ate very leisurely. Very. Calmly.

I observed that you kept your hand on some part of my body at all times as we traveled home on the train (or did we take a cab? I don’t remember that either). What I do remember was your hand was hot wherever it touched my skin.

When we got home, that damn noise became our friend again, and we felt very dehydrated. It became so unbearably hot in your room that we both reached a state of undress. This was a win-win situation. Game. Set. Match. Love.

Feverishly yours,

Darling

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My Provocative Darling

I more than fondly remember your leg perched on that ledge. It was certainly a provocative gesture. You may not have consciously thought about it, but your sub conscious was sending me very clear signals indeed (or so I chose to think).

You were not expected to cower. You were not expected to do anything. I have no doubt you knew it then as you know it now, but I was paying you a compliment. Even in public with only a slight hint of provocation you were very much sending me, along with my imagination, into sensory overload.

I have no idea where we were, what we ate or how we got home. The need to partake in some horizontal folk dancing was overwhelming. We indulged our desires of that I am sure.

It may have been March (the first month of autumn here in the land of Oz), but the bedroom was steamy for a number reasons. No doubt dehydration was a very real concern.

I can picture you still.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2014 Darling and Sir

I Honestly Love You

Hello My Darling

I did something tonight while you were asleep that made me think of you. Now that in itself is quite the norm. I mean I have this blog, your blog, our chat logs, our photos, your photos, our memories and our songs.

Now when you bed down each evening I normally don my headphones and take a brisk walk around the local golf course. It clears my head and lets me spend an uninterrupted hour just thinking about you. I choose the golf course because it is the most visually appealing part of town. You know I find my current location a little dreary. I have made some excellent friends here but in the way of cultural diversions I find it a little wanting. Anyway tonight I chose no play list at all. I usually choose one that fits the mood, often based on the tone of our last conversation. I was thinking about one of “our” songs. You only recently told me of its meaning, I confess that I’d forgotten and how I’d poisoned it for you. I’m sure I once knew, but my years are catching up with me darling and my memory is not what it used to be.

Anyway I decided to play it. I needed to see how it felt. I know I played it over and over for you. I know I meant every word of it at the time, and I feel I still do. So I suppose I was wondering several things: How did you feel about me doing that? Do you think you could listen to it again without the rancour? And lastly if you think you could, would you listen to it for me and tell me how you feel?

The song you will of course know. Written by Peter Allen and made famous by Olivia Newton John. None other than “I Honestly Love You.”

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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Lovely Sir,

After reading your letter early this morning, I have pondered on your request all day. I decided to do as you so kindly requested, and I played our old song tonight; I played it many times. I listened to the words, and all the past memories came back with such a force that my heart hurt terribly.  I heard the haunting melody as well as absorbed the meaning and I couldn’t help myself – I wept.  I am not sure what kind of tears they were; I’d like to think cleansing ones, but if I were honest there were bitter and resentful ones mixed in with an aching that was sharp and real.

This song was your anthem to me. I remember watching you play it. My eyes followed your beautiful fingers as they lovingly caressed the piano keys to this tune, then I couldn’t help myself – my eyes were drawn upward to watch your face as you played. You were caught up in the moment of music and love. I was held captive in rapture. I felt what you meant for me to feel. I was in tune to you (sorry for the pun). I ached.

That was taken from me. What was once beautiful withered and died. I abhorred that song when I heard it. I steered clear of it. I turned off the radio if by some slim chance it came on. I couldn’t face reality. Sometimes, as you know, I still can’t; consequently, I am trying. I wonder if I should have refrained from bringing up the subject of this song since you had forgotten, but you have asked me to never hide the truth from you or my feelings. I respect and love you enough to adhere to your wishes.

My hands are even shaking a little as I type this. I know what these words are going to do to your heart as well, and I wish with all my being that I could shield you from yourself.  I am listening to the song as I compose this letter. I am so deeply sorry.

On a positive note (I’d like to end it as such), I feel like I have climbed this ugly mountain. I can see the other side. I like that you played this song again after so many years. I can imagine you playing it, because I had the privilege of seeing that first hand. Thank you for that memory. Hopefully all the bad will be replaced by good. This is such a new road to walk on. Thank you for walking it with me. I honestly love you.

Achingly yours,

Darling

 

©2013 Darling and Sir

Change of Identity

My Darling

Reminiscing about our time together in that chat room all those years ago has brought many memories flooding back. It seems a little trite after your poetic utterances but there is one incident in particular that stands out in my mind. It was the day we swapped identities.

I may need to go “full geek” here a bit to explain what really happened. My darling you were always lightning fast; your brain and your fingers seemed to operate on a plane above we mere mortals. I couldn’t actually admit it to myself at the time, but you were actually quicker on the draw. I would console myself with the fact that you were in America and closer to the servers, and your ping was faster. I would make excuses that here in far away Australia I only had a 33.6k dial up modem whereas you had the superior 56k variety.  To the younger generation this will mean naught, but to those of us who grew up listening to the sounds of those modems as they made that hideous “connecting to the internet sound” they will know the significance of those numbers. 

That sound! I hear it now. Occasionally there will be an old film or TV show that has it in the background. It plays and I am instantly transported back to you. It was the sound that trumpeted your arrival, our connection. In reality it was shrill and coarse, but to me it was the soundtrack of my love for you. How strange that sounds and later smells should trigger such vivid memories of you. But I digress. 

As I have already said, you were a dynamo, totally unstoppable. I would just sit and bask in your brilliance and wit. To the rest of the room though, when we went at it and let go with our full arsenal of caustic comments, the ironic one liners, the caustic barbs, the devastating put downs, well they would just go a little quiet. They were in awe. You and I, we were having the time of our cyber lives. They would see some acerbic comment and think a killer blow had been landed. They waited for one us to wilt under the strain. It may be my rose coloured memory but I don’t ever recall feeling hurt or even slighted by one thing you ever said. I would just throw my head back and laugh. Then I’d keep a mental tally knowing that an opportunity would present itself and I would exact my revenge. 

So, let’s be a little hedonistic here, we were brilliant together. Then at some point, and I’m not sure who was initially responsible, we decided to switch identities. The fact that we would happily exchange our passwords, even when viewed through the prism of a simpler time, still shows how much I both trusted and loved you. So we were in our chat room. You were me, and I was you. And so it began. We knew each other so well that we could mimic each other’s “internet voice” for want of a better description. I cringe to say it because it reveals a vain shortcoming of my own but you even replicated one of my regular typos. You typed “loose” instead of “lose” and any variation of those two words. I hated that you knew me so well (not really) but I loved the agility of your mind and the fact that you so thoroughly took on my chat room persona and inhabited it so completely. We then set about flirting with ourselves. The narcissism didn’t strike me at the time but goodness knows what a competent psychologist would make of our behaviour. I know I used to make jokes about being so arrogant that I would cry out my own name at the moment of climax while making love. I think this may have been the chat room equivalent. 

Anyway we did this on only a few occasions and when that field was fallow we moved on to greener pastures. I am not sure why this memory has surfaced now but it makes me so damn happy to remember you at the top of your game, though I fear for my own sake that you still may very well be at the pinnacle. It seems strange that such an act of self indulgence be such a fond memory. It just showed you in all your magnificent glory and revealed, if only to me, how truly brilliant you were and still are. I was completely head over heels in love with by this time. This just cemented in my mind how truly remarkable our connection was, and dare I say still is. I love you my darling. Words cannot express what it is like to have you back in my life. To find myself reliving our past in a blog should be a little disconcerting, however it is not. I have no need to interrogate why I feel the way I do about you, but by putting these thoughts down in writing it has crystallised my emotions and confirmed them on yet another level.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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My Dear Sir,

What connivers we were! I had forgotten all about our switching identities scheme. I had studied your online character intensely, and I have no doubt that I felt rather confident in impersonating you; consequently, I would never be so presumptuous and bold now. I had even forgotten your ‘lose – loose’ mix-ups. That made me smile. I loved you for your minute, human errors. I found them to be on the adorable side for such a strong person. I even found it rather endearing that I made a better online man than you made a woman purely for the reason that your masculinity was so prominent. Your charisma is as astounding today as it was back then. Some things never change.

If memory serves me (and I admit you have the stronger independent recollection here), I do think I remarked and teased you about all the private messages I received while pretending to be you. You had many female admirers. They all wanted to rub shoulders with my Sir. I couldn’t fault them for wanting the very thing I did.

I trusted you implicitly with my name, and I know that trust was reciprocated. I would never have abused your faith in me. Your name had a reputation of being a gentleman, and I had to uphold it no matter how tempting it was to tell your female fans to get lost. You are correct that we never hurt one another intentionally with our verbal sparring. It was exhilarating and entertaining. If you even thought for a second that you had hurt my feelings, you would instantly apologize. Again, proof that you were (and are) a true gentleman.

I think this memory of yours (and mine) held a much higher purpose because it answered the question – could we trust each other? I think we both passed with flying colors.

Fondly,

Darling

 

©2013 Darling and Sir