I communicated with my former Sir tonight. It’s the most back and forth I’ve had from him in a while. Tonight he missed Heather. He was sad over her and I can’t blame him. I attempted to get him to tell me he missed me. I got no such satisfaction. I’d love to be the woman who steals his sleep. I want to be the kind of woman a man pines over. I’m not her, though.
She is a woman worthy of pining. And he misses her. I can’t blame him. I miss the both of them.
This woman is a glorious combination of intelligence and sass. She is soft and kind, sexy and talented. Oh I miss her.
I remember when we all loved each other. I remember the hotel room. He chained us to the bed together. She’s a switch and gladly flexed her Top side with me. Her hands cascaded hits on my flesh like a refreshing rain. I remember paddles and floggers and delicious pink skin.
I was lucky enough to be wrapped between them. Him behind me, her underneath me. Yes, the moment was a sexual, sensual masterpiece. But that isn’t what my mind remembers, as delicious as it was.
See, we were together. The three of us. She would meet my children as my girlfriend. They would understand that I’m a bisexual woman, and in a poly relationship. It’s truly because of who she is that my children so willingly accepted her. They began to send her texts, getting to know her. They would eagerly tell me things to tell her. They asked about her next visit. They saw how Chad was with both of us and accepted this triangle of love.
That moment in the hotel room full of collars and chain was where we came together. We were in a good place. Before I took off my collar and broke up with Chad. Before cancer. Before my left breast was sliced off. Before I thought of death. Before I pushed her away.
That hotel room full of paddles and secrets shared was where we loved each other. I was his. She was his. He was hers.
They were mine.
We loved each other, the three of us, once upon a time. That’s what my mind remembers.