I don't shine if you don't shine.

It seems I spoke too soon when I told our doctor earlier this week that we seem to both have recovered from our series of colds this winter -- I can tell that I'm fighting something off even as we speak. We were in the doctor's office for a check-up for Daddy, which is especially important since he is on T.

I'm even more proud of him than usual because recently he completed disclosing his trans status at work, which was something we were both concerned about. I've mentioned before that we work in the nightclub industry, but additionally we work at a venue that is traditionally lesbian. When he was hired we agreed that we would settle in and then we'd disclose, in case the staff turned out to be anti-trans. I'm happy to say that isn't the case, but I'm embarrassed to say that I am still confusing pronouns at work for him.

In fact, this happened the other night. We were outside having a quick smoke and a woman approached us for a light. She drunkenly began telling me an intimate story about her and her American lover, (this is an unasked-for talent that I seem to have: random strangers tell me their deepest secrets on a very regular basis, and in all kinds of situations. It's definitely more noticable at the club due to the alcoholic lubrication of the tongue and sometimes it can be very awkward for me. Flattering, but awkward.), saw that we were a couple, and immediately read us as boy/girl and therefore straight.

"Oh, you aren't gay?" she asked me, eyebrows rising.

"Yes," I answered, drawing an invisible line in the air between him and me, "we both are."

Her brow furrowed and she swayed on her feet. "I'm confused. You're both gay?"

She was drunk, and I rarely take that as the time to educate people on what it is to be trans -- the path of least resistance, I feel, is the best tack to take with the inebriated masses. But what I did next was nonetheless wrong on my part, and hurtful to my K.

"Girl," I said, pointing to myself, "and girl," pointing to K. "Yes, we are both gay."

He went back inside abruptly and I briefly realized that I'd fucked up, all in the name of getting out of this unwanted conversation with a stranger I would never see again. So I excused myself and we finished work without mentioning the incident.

Later, in our bedroom, he suddenly said, "I am not upset about this but I need to say for the record that I'm out at work, so you don't need to tell people I'm your girlfriend anymore."

I was taken aback, partly because I'd intended to bring it up myself, and apologize, but hadn't settled into bed with him yet and therefore hadn't said anything yet. And I felt ashamed, because it was wrong of me, even though I'd just been trying to get out of a conversation I didn't want to have in the first place. I apologized and we went to sleep.

But it's been bothering me since. And last night one of the regulars, one that knows us both, approached us to tell us that he wishes he could transition, too. It was a brief but very good conversation between he and K and somewhat me, but watching them together, one of my favourite aspects of K shone through to me: his willingness to mentor those who need it, without question.

I appreciate and admire who he is, his uncompromising selfhood, his unshaken and unshakable knowledge of his identity. I am still learning how to navigate the murky waters of sexuality and gender, but I'm glad he is holding my hand and giving me the gift of patience while I do. It's something he's done throughout the decade of our friendship; in fact, it's his firm declaration that there is nothing wrong with being who you are and loving who you love that gave me the courage to be who I am and love who I love. His self-respect bled onto me, at a time when I most needed it, and helped shape the person that I am today. I cannot overstate the positive impact that he has had on me and on my development as a person.

And I needed that lesson again. It's both important and not important to be able to explain who we are (who he is and who I am as it relates to him) to people that are out with friends and drinking and having a good time. But I respect and love him with all my heart, and my actions need to reflect that better, even in dicey situations.

I am going to be more aware of how my language and behavior reflect upon him.

Stalemate

It seems we are at a stalemate, Daddy and I. How do you bring up your desire for BDSM when one of the issues that you're working on is a difficulty in articulating what you want, what you need? I am finding that our sex life (at least in that vein) is currently nonexistent. We talked about it last night, kind of, and his reasoning is that my mood has been so low over the past few weeks (due to circumstances outside both my control and our relationship) that he doesn't want to make me feel forced into a BDSM situation that might make me feel worse. My response was immediate, though: it makes me feel better. At the very least it helps me to shut my brain off, to disconnect from anything other than us, here, now, this feeling, this emotion, this release. It's so rare in my world for that to happen and I cherish it completely.

Ultimately it's about communication. Isn't it always? I am working on becoming more able to tell him what I want/need, but I'm not there yet. And he has promised to talk to me instead of assuming that he'll make it worse.

It's been hard, though. The words, "I really would like it if you'd hurt me, please," don't always come easily to my lips; not nearly as often as they beat inside my mind and heart. My inability to simply say it to him stems from fear of rejection, fear of "making him" do something he doesn't truly want to do, and fear of judgment. Do I need it too much? Too often? Too desperately?

And so I yield to his lead, which, unfortunately, puts all of the pressure on him to decide when we're going to do this. That's not a fair position to put one partner in, even a dominant partner.

So we're working on it. I'll let you know how it goes...because I miss it. I miss it so, so much.

In and Out, Up and Down

I've forgotten if I have ever mentioned that Daddy and I work in the nightclub industry on the weekends. It's a lot of fun and I enjoy meeting new people, and there's always something dramatic and/or interesting happening. Never a boring night, that's for certain. However, we've learned the big downside to all this socializing: we pick up every single illness that every single moron who's too sick to be out but went out anyway is carrying with them. UGH.

So this is the third week that we've been juuuust recovering from one illness only to fall prey to another because neither of our immune systems have had the chance to build back up. It's put a significant crimp in our loving -- one generally needs to breathe without coughing or needing to grab a tissue in order to, say, bury one's face in one's lover's delicious nether regions. We've made do with our fingers (when neither of us is absolutely in misery, which has been very rare over the last three weeks) and have racked up many promises of tantalizing and evil things to do to one another once we're better.

Yesterday it was all looking much better: Daddy was about halfway through Cold #3 and I wasn't hacking too hard from Cough #2 and it had been days since either of us had managed an orgasm. We had somewhere to be in 45 minutes, so we needed to shower...and of course that meant getting naked, which naturally led to tumbling one another on the bed in a mass of warm skin and hungry lips and flushed cheeks and exploring hands. He threw me onto my back, peeled back the covers and kissed his way down my stomach, hooking my legs over his shoulders and pressing his mouth and nose between my folds within a matter of seconds. I gasped, laughing, as he took a long, deep breath.

"You smell amazing, little girl," he murmured, and slipped his tongue inside me, working it in and out rhythmically. My hips matched it and we moved together until I couldn't stand it any longer. "Please," I whispered, "please, I need you inside me."

He flashed that knowing grin at me and grabbed the lube. And then...my uterus tightened uncomfortably. Cramps. Unmistakable, painful, and FIVE DAYS EARLY -- cramps! I cursed silently to myself and decided they would just have to hold off until we were through.

His fingers teased my entrance and made me squirm just the way he likes. "You need me right there, baby? Right there?" I moaned shamelessly and tried to impale myself on him. He chuckled and drew back just enough to keep me from getting what I wanted, "Yes, right there, I think..." Suddenly I was filled with him and it was enough to make me arch my back and cry out. "Good girl, good girl," he told me, stroking me inside firmly. It always makes me feel emotional when he does this -- it brings me back to my first time with him.

All too soon I was coming, his hand was full of me, and I was breathing hard, half never-wanting-him-to-pull-out and half wanting-my-mouth-on-him-right-away. The cramps were much better -- perhaps there's truth to orgasms helping with that? At any rate, I switched places with him, glancing at the clock.

"I'm going to skip the foreplay, I think," I told him, kissing his stomach between words and working my way downward. "Besides, you should be pretty worked up after fucking me like that, right?" I found his clit, completely extended from beneath its hood -- T really is a miracle worker! -- and hard, just like I like it.

He mumbled something in the affirmative and scooted up the bed to give me better access. "Two fingers inside me, please," he managed to tell me as my tongue curled around his clit. I didn't answer, just complied. It's arguably his favourite way to come while I'm fucking him, and it wasn't long before he did, his muscles tight around my fingers and my mouth full of him.

Reluctantly, I pulled out of him and we held each other for a few minutes. I am still amazed at the emotional connection that I experience with him through sex. It's a kind of closeness that seems to be specific to making love with him and I cherish it so completely.

And then it was time to get in the shower and now today we're both sick again and I have my period but still, the warm feeling I get remembering that closeness is with me. Once again I must say this: I am a lucky, lucky grrl.