Piece of Cake

Sometimes, the true measure of a man's love is in how much he fears to fail the woman curled up in his arms.

About that bed again. (Your fault Miss Jackson. would you mind giving us some space please?)

We tried. So did Morticia Addams. Turns out, she's the very opposite of evil. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you don't get what you want. [2] [3].

AKA a beginner's guide on how to melt a man's mind. Nothing to with sex, not even that femdom sexy stuff. [not that the latter exists.]

Dutch moved some years ago and wanted a new bed. Texted her some photos. Immediate reply, after which I had an instant stroke. No, not, nay and not this one, swiftly followed by "Our bed" Unless you want to fry a man's brains, never ever refer to "our" [whatever]. No whips, chains, pain or leather pajamas [that last one still cool though] and especially not our [sleeping] bed. Raw honesty, straight from the heart. For the rest of our lives, every single night, that comments promises she wants to fall asleep in my arms. And yes, I want it more. Never knew a one-way ticket to heaven was that affordable. And all it takes is handing over a couple of notes to make it "our bed." Too easy, AKA sold. Delivery in about three months. The devil is always in the details.

A few weeks later, her place, other side of the pond. I'm smiling so hard it hurts. Invisible from the outside, but she knows. What makes the most wonderful girl in the world fall asleep in my arms whenever we're together. Yes, she, my arms. Mine, mine, mine! I tell myself it's part of "our" grand plan.

As I look at her, existential fear begins to tear me apart. My love and guardian angel saves me without words. Once she did so without even knowing. Right now, her body language tells me it's alright, we're in this together. Why do I even worry? Her gentle breathing sooths me like all those times before. Dutch is an above average fool, who knows she's the smart one when it comes to what matters. Our hearts literally beat in sync, her choice, not mine. I wish. She leads, I follow. After all, angels are Wonderful Gorgeous, Magical Creatures. So why did she invite me with her on our mission impossible.

Not complaining, besides the fact that I'm on what feels like voyage of the damned. She is in my arms. She doesn't need me to be safe, but I like to think my love provides that extra layer. The moment is perfect, she may never know, but if she was awake she surely would agree. One fleeting moment replaces another as I realize the future knows only one direction: down. My future failure is only a question of when, not if.

My heartbeat spikes. After a few seconds, her breathing becomes heavier. Sorry Angel. Once I realize what's happening, my heart calms down instantly. So close, yes. As I enter the the forest of future fears, my arms go numb and I pull her a little tighter. Only for a moment, not even a split second. Once I realize her breathing becomes harder, I let go. Men go paranoid over less. Much less.

Why on earth does she send me on a mission impossible like this? To let me hold her in my arms while she's asleep? Please don't smile Angel. I can't even plant a gentle kiss on your cheek, so afraid am I to wake you up. Please don't move any closer My girl, it's hard enough as it is. How can I do anything but fail? Why is this wonderful girl and magical creature even in my arms? What did I do to deserve her? And how did I gain her unconditional trust? What if I fail? There's nothing else. It's inevitable. How can I protect her? How do I live up to the strength of her faith in me. Yes I love her, always and forever, but how do I manage all of that?

Vast asleep, it takes a little over a second for her to breathe in and breathe out. She and I are connected [forever] [4]. As I struggle to find an answer to all those impossible questions, she pushes herself even closer. Naturally. Thank you Angel, thank you so much. Still I feel bad about interrupting her sleep. Not that she notices, but still.

When the going gets tough and she is vast asleep in his arms, it's when a man gets scared the most. How can this wonderful girl trust me so much? Doesn't she know I'm fallible. Doesn't she know the things that truly haunt him? How can she, there are some things a man can never share.

The next day I'm on my knees, looking up to her. Literally, and her name is mistress. My mistress, aka Mine. As in my one true Love and mistress. Piece of cake after last night.

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[1] Like I said, we didn't make it. Had this article ready for quite some time and with our red string of fate once again popping up everywhere, I decided to be true to myself and publish it. Life's about making memories, just as much as it is about remembering the good times. Even if it's fate without destiny (缘分).

[2] Hey OWK, black and white image today. Wanna guess the colour of the bed? Can't make it any clearer, dear loco's of femdom's modern day looney bin, now can I?

[3] As for you Miss Jackson, ma'am, yes. I'm available but not when I'm writing. Give me some room please. I'll finish the third and final part of Miss Jackson's Bondage Selection within days. So please.

[4] No worries, if I write anything personal she doesn't like, my phone will lit up instantaneously

[5] Don't know whether it was fate or destiny but "Whatcha gonna do with my lovin'", a classic 1970s Stephanie Mills track was her ringtone on my phone. In the end it was not up to us. Nobody gets to choose their own destiny.

Stephanie Mills - Whatcha gonna do with my lovin' (1979)