Tuesday, June 16, 2009

IML condom table

There were tables set up throughout the hallways and entryways in the leather market. On them were HUGE bowls of Condoms. All types of Condoms. Different sizes, brands, colors and even some for females. As we came in Jodie and I shyly looked through the bowls and picked out a few and dropped them into our purses. An hour later, we were taking hands full, and by the end we were rummaging through like it was a yard sale, on ten cent day. “Ooh, purple ones.” I exclaimed holding up a packet for her to see. “I have that one” she smiled back. It still makes me giggle just thinking about it.

We had to stop at one point to sign something and a very cute, nearly naked twenty something boy was standing at the booth helping us as we filled out a form, as we pulled out a pen he saw our large collection of by now of condoms and laughed. Jodie blurted out “I have a teenage daughter.” and looked over at me to say something. I responded. “I have an eighteen year old son. He’s gonna find condoms everywhere he goes. In his bed. Every drawer he opens. Every time he opens his glove box. Hell, their gonna fall out of his shoes” The boy just laughed. “Whatever it takes mom” His smile was sweet.

On our way out to leave we hit the last table one more time and loaded up one last time. That’s when we found the female ones. Really? Those surprised us at IML. But we took some of those too. By now, our purses runnith over. But the funniest thing almost happened on the train home. We were sitting talking about all we had seen. Across the aisle were an entire gaggle of senior citizens. The train suddenly lurched sideways and in slow motion my purse started to fall…Jodie and I grabbed for it at the same time. All I could think of was O-M-G ALL THOSE CONDOMS ON THE FLOOR! Red ones, blue ones, purples ones. And I’m talking at least 50 condoms. ALL OVER THE TRAIN FLOOR. What would they have thought? But we grabbed it in time. We both sat there, me clutching the purse to my chest. Jodie breathing hard. Both our eyes wide.
“That was close”
“Yeah it was” We both started to giggle like teenagers. Nothing like having a little secret. Then we sat and read my copy of the newspaper I had picked up. The LEATHER JOURNAL. Oh hell, let them think what they will.

IML Part one

On the walk to the IML host hotel, the closer we got the closer it became apparent that we were definitely in the minority. This didn’t come as a huge surprise though. Two 35 year old (uh huh, yeah, right, gonna be 35 for another ten years…Yep) straight woman walking towards IML.
As we walked along and we were passed by two leather men and heard “Those are chicks” Jodie and I laughed. We entered IML and another world. And I have to say we could not have asked to have been treated better. Honestly. Everyone treated us with kindness and respect. From the men at the reception desk to the cute guy who waved us in ala a genie from Aladdin.

Even when I had to use the CO-ED bathroom. If the boy’s didn’t mind I didn’t mind. And when I say BOY. I don’t mean literally a boy, or little boy. A boy can be any age, or any gender actually. But, for this post, let’s just say male, over 21.

We stood at the top of the steps looking out and down on the leather market. Imagine a flea market, with aisle upon aisle of x-rated goods. The shoppers, in leather and rubber and naked butts everywhere. We even saw a few superheroes thrown in. Then imagine people trying on items and getting fitted for harnesses, and jocks and corsets oh my. And all the while videos are playing all around you. Boys are being zipped into sleep sacks, and rubber cubes and onto modified St Andrew’ Crosses and Jodie and I are walking around taking it all in. I was in HEAVEN.
We walked past a vendor where there were a few men standing who stood about as tall as a doorway who whispered as we walked past. “Those are women. REAL women.” Jodie looked at me. “Do we not look like real woman?” She asked. I laughed looking down at my sizable chest. “Maybe it’s my boobs. Hell, if they were fake, you’d think they’d be standing at better attention” I told her. We continued on.
We stopped at the RECON booth to watch a boy being zipped into an alien egg. That was wild.

And we watched demos. We saw a rubber box were a boy was put inside and all the air was sucked out. He was encased inside, everything except his head. Then he was turned on his side, then upside down.
We couldn’t find a flogging demo. I would have watched that. Jodie probably not so much. Although she was a trooper about everything else.
We passed a bunch of rubber clad men passing us. They stopped and looked back at us. “Those are females” At his point. Jodie and I just laughed. We weren’t the only women in the place, but it was close. There were those who were vendors or in leather or with men, we were none of those. So, we were a minority. And there were probably, five of us walking among a thousand men. Ok, maybe there were more than that, but honestly that’s about all the women we saw in our category and I’m stretching the number.
At one point, Jodie said. “I kind of feel like a science experiment.” I laughed and said. “I feel right at home. You could put me on a stage with a crown on my head. I LOVE THIS!” “Of course you do!” She said. And left me standing at the Mr.S leather booth watching a boy getting laced up in a full leather sleep sack.

Monday, June 15, 2009


Back in my twenties, when I was experimenting. I would gladly tie up my boyfriend, anytime he wanted me too. And anytime ‘I’ wanted him to, too.
But, never would I allow him to tie me up. It came down to trust. Sure, I loved him. I would do anything for him. But I didn’t trust him. Not on that kind of level. I’ve never trusted anyone that much.
Back then I also was beginning to get the first discernable memory flashes of some of my past lives. And along with them, the mistrust and fear that came along with the bits and pieces of those memories. At that point there was NO WAY on earth NO ONE was tying me to anything, and that was a simple and non-negotiable fact. Due mostly to the fear I had of being tied up and killed. Mostly drowned. See, I have past life memories, dreams and visions of being a persecuted witch, several times in fact…and most of them include being tied up and drowned. Tied down and drowned, being a male sailor and being flogged and either falling overboard or being thrown over, not sure and drowning. Can ya see where my aversion to water comes from?

Yeah! I don’t do beaches, or pools much either. Don’t really even like to put my tootsies in to deep, anything over my stomach and it just takes my breath away. I barely learnt to swim enough to get though high school. All my friends know, I’m not the person you want to count on to save you if you’re going under for the third time. Sure, I’ll jump in and try to save you, but then someone else might have to save us both.
So, oh yeah, trust. Back when these little gems began to work themselves up and out of my stored memories banks, there was no way I was going to allow myself to be put into any situation where I was not in complete control. And being tied down or left someplace where I wasn’t in control wasn’t going to do it. Now, in theory and fantasy it all works out just fine. But in practice and practicality, not so much.

Over the years I’ve met some very interesting people and groups of people who came in and out of my life, some VERY quickly. I worked in a metaphysical shop for a while. And on occasions was invited by some very nice people to come and join in for different events. But the minute they would say. “Oh it’s being held in the woods. Or on a deserted beach.” No thanks, I think I’ll pass.” I’d say. I’ve seen enough lifetime movies. I’m not gonna be the main course or the sacrificial lamb, thanks, but no. See, I just don’t trust people, not that much, not with my life in their hands, when they hold ALL the cards.
But I probably wouldn’t have gotten into those woods or onto that beach anyhow. My guides would have blocked the doors, had my car breakdown or found some other way to keep me from going. They’d done it before.

Those tiny little voices can be just nagging and a poking atcha feeling. Other times they can be loud and persistent. Both to get my attention. The same goes for when they are silent.

SILENCE can be the loudest sound of all.

I used to just get the uneasy feelings. The ones that made the hair stand up and I just knew that I wasn’t supposed to go. Then they began to whisper, and then talk. Now they just come and say “Yeah, whatever, Tell them, NO WAY! MOVE ALONG, NOT COMING!” you get my point. And yes, they can be outright rude sometimes. My guys are not the sit around on clouds meditating and contemplating kind of guides. I really wonder what kind of notice went out when they were looking for guides for me. And what it said? Because I picture mine as being rebels of sorts in the guide world. The ones that they have trouble placing, and were probably relieved to have found ME to give these guys something to do for awhile. But, according to my main guide James Malcolm when asked how long he had been with me? He gently touched my cheek and said. “Forever” So, that would explain why we argue like an old married couple at times. Lol. Him. I trust. Them. I trust. Which says a lot.

As they screened the people in the store and shielded me from them. They’ve also found and continue to find me some very dear friends. Funny how they work. I met my very Best Friend Jodie online. My guides must have talked to her Guides and she sent me an email…which she had NEVER done before and we connected. (We were members of the same online group. We had seen each other online but had never talked in person or even emailed, she had an extra ticket to an outdoor concert and lived close to me. Her teenage daughter’s friend couldn’t go and she was offering it to me. Hanson if you must know. LOL. I answered her email; we called each other, met at the concert. Try finding someone standing in hundreds of people and all you have to go on is what they are wearing? Lol. Yet I found her. And we had a blast. We’ve been best friends now for 8 years.) Guides did good. They do that now and then when there is someone they need me to meet or connect too. They find a way for me to meet them.

This seems to happening a lot more lately. How does the saying go “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear?” I hope so. New beginnings!

I trust my guides. I trust when they tell me that this year is my year to shed the old, and look to the new. I trust when they say “He is coming.” Who he is? They wouldn’t and still won'telaborate. They said that three or four months ago.

And young guide Paul also let slip “And don’t forget Kensington” and was soundly yelled at for it. “Shut up! Don’t influence her in any way. She has FREE WILL.” James Malcolm scolded Paul. I found that conversation between them very interesting. Yep, this occurred while I was driving that day. They just had this conversation all around me while I’m sitting in the middle of them.
So, who or what is KENSINGTON? A person? A Street? A publishing house? I still don’t know.

But there are things I do know.
I KNOW I can write.
I KNOW I count.
I KNOW I was meant to be here.
And I KNOW I have purpose.
I was given gifts, and I KNOW I WILL NOT WASTE THEM!

I just have to learn to TRUST in MYSELF, that is what this year is about!