It’s always the quiet ones.
A quick note: I apologise that there was no “What Happened In November?” post this weekend. I plan to stop those posts entirely and I plan to take my “Week In Review” posts from two posts to three per week — on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays — instead, under their old name, Bad Girl Diaries, and owing to their increasing popularity.
There was a detail from Wednesday evening that I forgot to mention, so please allow me to recap on that quickly: Master Levi’s boss, Christina, wants to meet me.
I don’t know a whole much about Christina, but I do know that she’s of a similar age to me and she’s into the gothic subculture too, she’s also married and gets along with Master on a “friend” level. I asked Master once if he felt she was “one of our kind” (kinky) and he nodded, so it should be interesting when we do finally get a chance to meet.
Master told me that he’d told Christina about the Christmas tree tie I bought him for his work Christmas party, apparently she found it amusing and said again that she couldn’t wait to meet me. I grin at Master.
“You’re cooked” I laugh.
“I know,” he says resigned, “I’ve been trying to keep you two as far apart as possible.”
“Why?” I ask, “afraid of what might happen if your work boss meets your home boss, or vice versa?”
“No?” he laughs.
“Uh huh, sure” I tease.
“Chicken.”
Thursday
In the early hours of Thursday morning, Valkyries suggested kidnapping me “for every journey” as a solution to my “travel thing”. I asked him how he thought that would look, kidnapping a neurospicy woman to take her out to lunch. Sir said that it would look innocent, a claim that I hotly refuted.
Sir told me not to make him laugh, so I teased him about that instead.
Don’t tease me, don’t make me laugh. Whatever next, don’t breathe?
Sir called me up about liking breath play, and I refuted that too. At least to me, choking is not the same as breath play — choking is about restricting blood flow; breath play is about controlling breathing. Press the sides of the neck, carefully and with communication, and you can have a little bit of fun. Crush the windpipe, and you could end up in a serious situation, or much worse.
So that got us talking about windpipe injuries, and windpipe injuries in rugby particularly. I was curious, does he play?
Valkyries said that he used to play for charity, but he would happily still scrum with a sub “if needs be”. I smile.
There is no “need”, Sir, only “want”.
I could feel sleep sliding in, and I knew that I needed to sleep. I wasn’t going to beg him to let me sleep — Valkyries would enjoy that far too much — but I could feel the sandman trying to claim me. I wanted to say goodnight before I dozed off.
Sir said that he would race me to dream land, and that the winner was the last one to fall asleep. I groan.
See, Sir, this is EXACTLY the kind of game that I didn’t want to play.
Sleep takes me anyway.
Thursday morning I step out to put some rubbish in the bin. Mr C swings around the corner, acting like he’s surprised to see me — unobscured, in broad daylight, at normal working hours and in a communal space — putting rubbish in our bin. His acting surprise takes me by surprise; I didn’t hear him sneak up behind me.
Mr C wants to “pick your brain” about something again — girls again, but Freya in particular. I stand for an hour, arms folded, listening to him whittle on about Freya. After Wednesday’s little incident I am not pleased to see him, but Mr C seems totally unfazed.
We talk polyamory again, about power balances, and I mention again how our previous quad with L and N went spectacularly wrong because of the pregnancy plans that were never revealed to us until after the quad was formed. How important communication and mutual respect are in polyamory — in all relationships, for that.
While we talk, I’m quietly aware of a van on the opposite side of the road with two workers in who, I believe, are somewhat watching Mr C. It occurs to me then how funny this must look to them: like the courtship dance of a male bird who is trying to impress a female, and a female who just isn’t buying whatever it is he’s offering.
Also Thursday I took delivery of six bronze corydora catfish — a pre-Christmas treat, I told myself, for my two lonely panda corydora. They’re much bigger than I expected, but they’ve settled into the aquarium just fine. My two remaining pandas, however, don’t seem to know what to make of their newly adopted bigger brothers and sisters. Sharing an algae wafer later might help forge friendships yet.
Thursday evening Valkyries presented me with a photo of a box of Nerf guns. Stockpiling munitions, he said.
Oof, so it’s a war he wants.
I called them “cute”, cue another round of sparring between us.
Valkyries said that he wasn’t threatening me, but that a sub hunt in the woods does sound fun. And no, the sub doesn’t get a Nerf gun.
I asked what a sub would want a Nerf gun for — BB guns are much more fun.
Your sponge darts are cute and all, Sir, but some of us have upgraded.
Sir said that Nerf guns don’t risk taking an eye out or breaking the skin. I almost laughed.
Well don’t start wars naked then!
Friday
Valkyries is amused from another “fun” post, though he accuses me of besmirching his character; says he thinks I even like him being my bad boy.
I proclaim innocence: I’m just writing what you told me, Sir.
I reminded Valkyries that he threatened to shoot me and kidnap me in the same day, and I asked Sir what he thought my audience might think of that. Sir said they’d think him a “visionary”; I said he was a “fantasist”.
A bit like Mr.C, really.
In our exchange, I can’t help but think of this scene from the first Tomb Raider movie.
Somewhere else in the back of my mind,I also can’t help but wonder what our relationship might be like if we ourselves were neighbours. Maybe it might be like the relationship I have with Mr C, only with less manipulation and more DEFCON 2 level flirting.
But maybe I do like bad boys, or rather, I like good boys with bad boy sides. Not actual bad boys — I have no time for cruel, unreliable people in my life — but good boys with bad boy sides.
I remember fondly here my first impressions of Master Levi: he was safe, bordering on too safe for me. He wasn’t just safe, he was bordering on… you know… actuallly kinda boring.
Turns out, if you tell the right man that he seems kinda boring to you, he’ll be all too happy to show you quite how “boring” he can be.
Not long after getting out of bed, my heart gave a small flutter. Always a bit spooky when that happens.
Huh? I’m not caffeinated yet, I don’t have indigestion, I’m not stressed and I slept well. Strange.
By mid-morning, the right side of my face felt like it was frozen in time, mid-sneeze. By the afternoon, my throat felt like it was lined with razor blades.
I’ve caught Master’s cold.
I was supposed to be seeing Mum on Sunday before her surgery, but there’s no way I can risk seeing her and infecting her now.
So instead, we catch up on a video call.
“Oh, you look like death warned up” she says when the camera pings on.
“Thanks, I’ve never felt better” I say dryly. Mum laughs.
We talk about her surgery, her feelings about it, and how Master suggested she might be “excited” about it. Master — who has never had a general anaesthetic or surgery before — has no real understanding of the emotions around these events.
I have had general anaesthetics and surgeries before though, and so I do know.what the emotions of these events can be like. My last was a kind of two-pronged surgery: I had a ganglion cyst removed from my foot, and four molar teeth removed at the same time.
That surgery I blame for a lot of my medical kinks today. Something about being held down and subdued by gloved hands on your face… I digress.
“Actually, yes, I am quite excited,” Mum says, “Not for the surgery, but for what I’ll be able to do in a few months, after my surgery.”
Mum got emotional again, kicking herself for being “less than sympathetic” towards my brother and father and self with our chronic pain conditions. I empathise with her, though I don’t know if my words are of comfort, so much as condemnation.
“Sometimes the only way we can truly empathise with others is to experience their pain for ourselves” I say.
Master finished work early Friday, which meant he was home by 5PM. He has a quick shower and shave, then gets ready for his work Christmas party.
While he dresses, I’m talking to Valkyries. Sir asks when I might get to meet Christina.
I say that Master is “delaying it”, Sir says that he is “delaying his pleasure”. Master disputes that there will be any ‘pleasure’ in it for him.
“Why not?” I laugh.
“You two are too similar” Master says.
“And that…”
“Sounds like a me problem? Yes, I bloody know — that’s the problem!” he says. I laugh out loud.
Master thoughtfully flips the script on me.
“Of all of your past and present poly partners, would you say Valkyries and I are most similar?”
“Frighteningly so” I reply.
“Why frighteningly?”
“It’s not a bad frightening, more like a ‘things just fell into place’ frightening. Like there should be some kind of conflict or drama between the three of us and there’s just… Not.”
“We work, function, as a team, and I feel completely happy and completely safe with the pair of you. Like everything that happened in my past? It just doesn’t matter anymore. I have my happy now”. Master smiles.
‘I’m glad you’re happy” he says.
“And I’m glad you’re happy, too” I reply.
Master leaves for his party, so I’m left to try and fend for myself. Dinner is chicken and chorizo tortellini with a homemade spicy tomato and red pepper sauce, topped with crispy pancetta and served with garlic and herb ciabatta breadsticks as a side. I had a slice of raspberry cheesecake for dessert.
Nobody can say that this girl can’t plan a meal.
After dinner I settled down with my bag of crispy M&M’s to watch the movie my mother and brother had insisted we watch, Strays. After the movie, I tell Master that I “took one for the team.”
I won’t give any spoilers away (I know how Valkyries hates those 😉), but I summed the movie up as “classically Will Farrell” — an abundance of poop, pee and penis, and not a whole much in between. It was okay — it had a cute message — but Hunter’s “skill” was… uncomfortable to say the least, and I found that whole scene completely unnecessary.
Kitten’s overall rating: 4/10.
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Until next time!
Stay safe & have fun,
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
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