Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Prime, and Shit That Only Happens To Me

Since the Prime and I initially met, we've seen each other about once a week, occasionally twice.  I look forward to our nights together because for a few hours a week I am able to really explore a side of myself that I had previously kept hidden.  The Prime brings out a side of me that is rarely seen - that of the submissive.

Ask anyone who knows me in day to day life, and they would laugh at the idea that I could be submissive to anyone.  I am the most Type A personality I know, and the running joke at my work is "she just wants it how she wants it."  But when the Prime is around, I can't help but acknowledge his extremely dominant demeanor; I don't think I really understood the term commanding presence before I met him.

That's not to say we don't do normal date-type activities.  We had a wonderful dinner tonight, we chatted about our spouses, kids, and significant others.  We tell stories, compare notes on all kinds of geekery, and we enjoy the hell out of a good beer.

Get us in a bedroom situation, though, and all bets are off.  I am a neophyte to this experience, but it's an extreme pleasure to learn from someone like him.  He is careful, meticulous, and merciless when needed.  It's unnerving how well he reads my body language, and we feed off of each other.  I head home after a night with the Prime feeling content, sleepy, and exhilarated.

Now, imagine me heading to my car in such a state tonight.  I kissed the Prime goodbye, and went to open my car doors... locked.  This is not good, because I had made a conscious decision to leave the keys in the car when I got out of it earlier in the evening.  So, I do the only possible thing, and text the Prime that I've locked my keys in my car.

He comes to my rescue, and asks where the spare set is.  At this point I begin laughing so hard I almost hyperventilate - my spare keys are at my mother's!  So there I am, 32 years old, at 11pm on a Wednesday, calling my mom to ask her where my spare keys are.

Awkward.

I brush off Mom's questions by saying I'm with friends, and she agrees to leave the keys on the deck for me.  The Prime had to drive to my mother's house at 11:30pm, and then drive me back, the whole while giggling about how silly the whole thing is.

Who almost outs themselves to their parents because of a really stupid moment?  Apparently I do.

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