It was almost funny yesterday: Master Levi spoke about doing things “for science”. It’s not a new phrase for me; it’’s a phrase I use myself. It was also the precursor to Valkyries’ “Kinky Fuckery Science”. 

It’s not new for me, but at least until now, Master Levi has refrained from any (kinky) scientific ventures for himself. It holds no interest to him, and I, of course, completely and fully respect that. 

So when he does talk about doing things “for science”, it puts me on edge. Not because it’s inevitable, but because it’s possible. 

And that possibility is very, very hot for me. The stuff of fantasies, quite honestly, but a fantasy I’d perhaps much rather avoid. 

Well I need some semblance of self-control. 

A little later in the evening, Valkyries had the same idea that Master Levi had for me elevating my puffy ankles above my heart — the NSFW version of the position. These uncanny similarities aren’t funny anymore. 

It’s not the first time I’ve clocked similarities between Master Levi and Mister Valkyries, and I think, sometimes, they’re even more similar than perhaps what they both realise. That was neither my intent nor by my design, by the way, but simply because fate works in mysterious ways. 

Both are analytical, strategic, and sometimes overthinkers. Strategic and analytical is something I am and have to be too, and perhaps that’s what draws them both to me. I’m not easy to figure out, and that makes me more of a challenge for them to “win”.

Maybe I’m not that difficult to figure out, I just have quick reactions, and I can adapt and change my strategy on a whim? 

For their part, I also enjoy the challenge of them: there’s no easy wins for me, and sometimes my “wins” come purely from outwitting them. I’m very aware I’m outnumbered in this arena, and as such, I am often depending on my quick wit (and reactions) alone. 

Late Tuesday evening, Master asked me the difference between a Presbyterian Church — which Valkyries attends — and the Church of England, like what I grew up attending. 

Before I could speak, Master interrupts me. 

“God and… God in a kilt” he says. 

I’m gone. The mental image of our Father wearing a kilt is far too much. 

Master looks at me, who is curled up by the tumbledryer in a fit of laughter, and grins. 

“Are you okay?” he laughs. 

Valkyries found it hilarious too. Said he would have to mention it in a future church service.

I told both Master and Valkyries that I was going to have to pray for forgiveness now. Valkyries did remind me or Father has a sense of humour, and he is right, but that doesn’t mean I can mentally stick him in a kilt and be done. It’s toasty down there, I said.

Dear Father, I’m sorry I laughed, I said my prayer might begin. 

This morning saw two delightfully powerful, mutually satisfying orgasms for Valkyries and me. It doesn’t happen every day but it’s quite a beautiful thing when it does, and it helps close the physical gap between us. 

I fell asleep for an hour afterwards, mindfully aware of how fortunate I am to be loved by such a wonderful man. Men. 

Mid-morning, the neighbour wants my assistance in the back garden. He wants me to hold a tape measure while he measures the length of the garden and that’s… Literally it. 

But when I mention having work to do, he starts his usual deluge of information. About his life and living arrangements. 

I really don’t care —  I’m not interested anymore. 

Lunchtime, Master sends me a link to an Instagram post that mentions that, in polyamory, I now have two people who get mad at me for not eating a proper lunch. Sure enough, not twenty minutes later, Valkyries checks that I’ve eaten. So the post is ironically familiar. 

Also lunchtime, Valkyries tells me that I’m “lucky” he didn’t tell me he was talking to Master Levi. I understand this game, but I play along anyway. 

Why WOULD that worry me, Sir? 

Again, it piques my interest, but I’m not really worried about it: if Valkyries is kind enough to tell me that he’s talking to my Master then it’s probably not anything to be worried about. 

Between the two of them, they both foil any nefarious plans they had. Valkyries assures me that they’re “talking shop”, and Master, too, says that he’s “talking to our J” about work. 

I find it cute that he calls him “our J”. That’s the first time he’s done that. 

So I, mindfully aware of Valkyries little game but refusing to take the bait, I told Valkyries that it’s “good that you two are getting along”. 

I’m not worried, Sir, not until you two give me a reason to be.