They Say/Cliche: Rope Journaling 6-6

This is nothing I was expecting. Sitting here at work distracted though you're no where near to distract me. That's how talented you are at directing my attention.

The rope I brought along in my bag to dinner “just in case” is now with me the morning after at my desk like a secret. Each time I catch a glimpse of it I remember it wrapped around your limbs not so long ago, holding you tight where you curled up so adorably on your bed as I alternated pleasure with pain. But I'm unable to get enough of the feel of you. So that even when you're bound and behaving, not a hint of sass in your eyebrows I'm still lost at a sea of distraction.

What do I usually do when I have someone tied up like this? I keep forgetting. Focus, Emily! You moan with happiness or shock, the tangle of you hair coming loose and your curls free to grasp. Your sweet eyes meeting mine and nope I'm a goner, all I can think is my mouth on yours. I'm not always this boring and predictable as a Top. What is up with me? But oh that boy flesh I can't get enough of and the way you touch me when your hands are free. I'm seemingly permanently too distracted to rope properly, that's a first. Have a willing partner and I'm uninspired, forgetting everything I know. If your body is any indication you don't seem to mind that much.

The smell of you is still on my skin and hair as I try to work, catching hints of you that melt my mind all over again. A stupid smile glued to my face thanks to hours of you being wrapped in close to me all night. I don't even mind that I didn't sleep, that it was too hot to play spoons but we did anyway. The closeness winning out over comfort. But then again you're a comfort in your own way aren't you?

And that's what's so unexpected. The girl who was just looking for a casual sexy occasional good time is darn near smitten. But that's the way of life, they say it happens when we're busy making other plans. But you're everything I never look for: young, bottomish, geeky. Why does this work when none of those things have ever drawn me in before? Then again they also say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results. So is it really that surprisingly that veering away from emotionally distant, slutty, poly, 40 somethings would get me a better date? Probably not and yet...

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Can't say I understand what's happening but it's so enjoyable I'm going to try not to question it. Too overthink it and talk myself out of a good thing like I always do. You're available: emotionally and physically. Willing and wicked and witty. And holy fuck we can communicate which makes all the difference. You open your mouth and tell me things and I return the favor unafraid of saying the wrong thing. I can just speak and feel seen for the first time in a long time. My heart no longer heavy with worry and wonder and what if.

Who knew the sweet young thing that I accidentally ignored two years ago on Okcupid would reappear in one of my ridiculous rope classes and would be the someone soothing the ache of those silly dating mistakes. And raising my standards. Just by virtue of you being you: everything I never expected.