DowntownAmber
04-27-2008, 05:59 PM
It seems as if I should mark my 500th post with something a little different, something special; so I have decided to finish and post a letter penned to J-Go. There is nothing in here He doesn’t know and that I don’t already tell Him often, but it will be the beginning of a nice little thread for us (and whomever else feels like reading it) to have on our own history and my thoughts on it…
Good evening Master…
As I write, the sunlight and the sounds of downtown are fading. I have taken a break from preparing our “play room” for tomorrow’s session, and am out on the South balcony with the laptop, thinking and typing and waiting for the city lights to come up. I’ve been in my home, up here on the 10th floor, for awhile now and it’s interesting to note all that’s changed in that time. It’s interesting to note how much I have changed. I’ve always been a little bit of a top, You know… *grins* And before You, this place would have been the perfect metaphor for me, the perfect place for me; looking down on the chaos of life going by, above it, safe and in control, but isolated. Now I know the perfect place for me is not above my life but by Your side, at Your feet, in Your heart.
It’s been over a year now, but I can still tell you exactly what you looked like and what you wore the moment we walked into each other’s lives, into that audition at the theatre I can see from here on my balcony: grey sweater, faded jeans, black boots. Your dark hair was longer than it is now, combed back but with that wave in the front that kept threatening to fall over your face. Your attitude matched your dress that evening, relaxed and comfortable. Frankly, You seemed a little out of place at an audition. Actors are supposed to be nervous, fidgeting, and franticly paging through their scripts. They talk to themselves as they try to find their character. You were talking to the theatre’s Artistic Director, Your arms crossed and an easy smile across your face as if you were simply stopping by to say “hi” on your way someplace infinitely more important, as opposed to standing in your first audition after taking a nearly eight year break. I saw you right away, noticed Your broad shoulders, they way Your body tapered down to… *ahem* I digress…
You saw me as I walked in as well, and I did something I never do: I looked away, I pretended not to be paying attention to you. As I made my way over to a friend that I recognized and tucked myself hastily into the row behind her, I chided my own very un-Amberlike behavior. I was not scared of men, I was not shy, I was rather that girl that loved to walk into a room and take it over, not duck into the back row! Yet there I was, avoiding your glance. Why?
We were called up on stage together, the wheels of our relationship now set into motion. The scene was an argument between a husband and his estranged wife. I had that scene down -- I knew how I wanted to play it and who I wanted that character to be. But as you and faced each other I proceeded to drop every subtlety I had woven into that script and I played that woman fiercely, as angry and as intimidating as I could get away with. Again, that voice in my head questioned me: what was I posturing for?
You were cast, I was assigned the duties of Stage Manager and Assistant Director. We read through the script for the first time in your backyard over beers and barbeque. You, me, the rest of the cast… But it felt like just You and I were there. We were both so aware of one another that we did everything possible to look like we weren’t. I don’t believe we said one word directly to each other all night, but every time I looked over at You, You were looking at me as well.
We were both on our way out of failing relationships… On our way, but not yet out. Under the best of circumstances, the right thing can still be frightening, but when you realize you’d be willing to go after the right thing at the absolute most wrong of times, that’s when it becomes truly intimidating. We kept our distance as a result of the closeness that was building between us, as of yet unspoken. Our caution became a testament to our attraction.
Our rehearsals, as I’m sure You remember, often ended with a bottle of wine shared between cast an crew. On an especially late Tuesday night, we emptied a decent Syrah and the cast split company, save for you and I. We stood in the back doorway of the theatre, a small alcove off the alley, and made up useless things to say to one another to avoid having to wander out alone into the misty night.
I wanted to kiss You.
I am not a girl that waits to be kissed. I meter out my affections in the safety of my own timing and discrection, but I waited for you. That night I stood still, for the first time in a long time, and I let myself be a part of another’s scene, of Your decision. You stopped mid-sentence and grabbed the lapels of my black blazer, jerking me into Your body, into Your kiss. My instinct was to push back, to try and make the kiss my own, to control the moment as I always did. I wanted to kiss You, yes, but I wanted to see if You would let me do it on my terms. You didn’t. You pushed back, the weight of Your body pressing me into the brick of the building, Your lips never once leaving mine, Your tongue forcing its way into my mouth. The revolt in me was gone, and in a surprised yet relieved wash I surrendered to where You wanted to put Your hands, to where You wanted to put Your lips… You picked me up and held me against the wall, and I let myself go free in Your arms. In a moment of primal rightness, I pulled away you’re your kiss, inclined my head and offered You my neck, a place I had refused nearly every past lover access to. You took it, kissing me there with Your teeth and tongue and the safety of the danger I was in overwhelmed me.
That moment gave me something more substantial than anything I have ever felt in another relationship; it gave me a place built of trust, and a future of love.
I adore You, my Master. You are worth everything it took to get to You, and everything it will take to keep You….
Your pet forever, Amber.
Good evening Master…
As I write, the sunlight and the sounds of downtown are fading. I have taken a break from preparing our “play room” for tomorrow’s session, and am out on the South balcony with the laptop, thinking and typing and waiting for the city lights to come up. I’ve been in my home, up here on the 10th floor, for awhile now and it’s interesting to note all that’s changed in that time. It’s interesting to note how much I have changed. I’ve always been a little bit of a top, You know… *grins* And before You, this place would have been the perfect metaphor for me, the perfect place for me; looking down on the chaos of life going by, above it, safe and in control, but isolated. Now I know the perfect place for me is not above my life but by Your side, at Your feet, in Your heart.
It’s been over a year now, but I can still tell you exactly what you looked like and what you wore the moment we walked into each other’s lives, into that audition at the theatre I can see from here on my balcony: grey sweater, faded jeans, black boots. Your dark hair was longer than it is now, combed back but with that wave in the front that kept threatening to fall over your face. Your attitude matched your dress that evening, relaxed and comfortable. Frankly, You seemed a little out of place at an audition. Actors are supposed to be nervous, fidgeting, and franticly paging through their scripts. They talk to themselves as they try to find their character. You were talking to the theatre’s Artistic Director, Your arms crossed and an easy smile across your face as if you were simply stopping by to say “hi” on your way someplace infinitely more important, as opposed to standing in your first audition after taking a nearly eight year break. I saw you right away, noticed Your broad shoulders, they way Your body tapered down to… *ahem* I digress…
You saw me as I walked in as well, and I did something I never do: I looked away, I pretended not to be paying attention to you. As I made my way over to a friend that I recognized and tucked myself hastily into the row behind her, I chided my own very un-Amberlike behavior. I was not scared of men, I was not shy, I was rather that girl that loved to walk into a room and take it over, not duck into the back row! Yet there I was, avoiding your glance. Why?
We were called up on stage together, the wheels of our relationship now set into motion. The scene was an argument between a husband and his estranged wife. I had that scene down -- I knew how I wanted to play it and who I wanted that character to be. But as you and faced each other I proceeded to drop every subtlety I had woven into that script and I played that woman fiercely, as angry and as intimidating as I could get away with. Again, that voice in my head questioned me: what was I posturing for?
You were cast, I was assigned the duties of Stage Manager and Assistant Director. We read through the script for the first time in your backyard over beers and barbeque. You, me, the rest of the cast… But it felt like just You and I were there. We were both so aware of one another that we did everything possible to look like we weren’t. I don’t believe we said one word directly to each other all night, but every time I looked over at You, You were looking at me as well.
We were both on our way out of failing relationships… On our way, but not yet out. Under the best of circumstances, the right thing can still be frightening, but when you realize you’d be willing to go after the right thing at the absolute most wrong of times, that’s when it becomes truly intimidating. We kept our distance as a result of the closeness that was building between us, as of yet unspoken. Our caution became a testament to our attraction.
Our rehearsals, as I’m sure You remember, often ended with a bottle of wine shared between cast an crew. On an especially late Tuesday night, we emptied a decent Syrah and the cast split company, save for you and I. We stood in the back doorway of the theatre, a small alcove off the alley, and made up useless things to say to one another to avoid having to wander out alone into the misty night.
I wanted to kiss You.
I am not a girl that waits to be kissed. I meter out my affections in the safety of my own timing and discrection, but I waited for you. That night I stood still, for the first time in a long time, and I let myself be a part of another’s scene, of Your decision. You stopped mid-sentence and grabbed the lapels of my black blazer, jerking me into Your body, into Your kiss. My instinct was to push back, to try and make the kiss my own, to control the moment as I always did. I wanted to kiss You, yes, but I wanted to see if You would let me do it on my terms. You didn’t. You pushed back, the weight of Your body pressing me into the brick of the building, Your lips never once leaving mine, Your tongue forcing its way into my mouth. The revolt in me was gone, and in a surprised yet relieved wash I surrendered to where You wanted to put Your hands, to where You wanted to put Your lips… You picked me up and held me against the wall, and I let myself go free in Your arms. In a moment of primal rightness, I pulled away you’re your kiss, inclined my head and offered You my neck, a place I had refused nearly every past lover access to. You took it, kissing me there with Your teeth and tongue and the safety of the danger I was in overwhelmed me.
That moment gave me something more substantial than anything I have ever felt in another relationship; it gave me a place built of trust, and a future of love.
I adore You, my Master. You are worth everything it took to get to You, and everything it will take to keep You….
Your pet forever, Amber.