LJ Idol-Week Two Topic: Deconstruction
I shut my eyes when I heard him enter the room. He didn’t ask me to, but I liked it. I liked the mystery of his movements blending into air against my skin. He said hello to me, I smiled back leaning my head down in obeisance. I didn’t have to, there were no rules for this, no protocols for the night, but I knew what stirred him. I knew what flushed his skin and brought heat to the surface. I was cold and I wanted to be warm so I started the fire in the ways that I knew how.
I was already nude for him. My dirty clothes tossed aside. I listened as he undressed, as he removed the uniform of his day. I wondered if he felt like I felt. In the morning did he put on a costume meant for the world, the public eye that sees nothing but the smiling face, the good citizen, the devoted parent and employee?
I was all these things, just as he, but when the time came, and I shut the door to our room, I became something else, someone else, the person I felt was true to myself.
Were we being true to each other right now in the removal of the construct of the outside world? Did we constantly build when we left here, destroy that creation and rebuild the true self as we re-entered what has to be our sanctuary? Maybe, or maybe we were just having kinky sex.
I smiled as his fingers caressed my lips. I darted out my tongue caught one finger and took it into my mouth. I wanted to open my eyes and see his reaction, but I didn’t. I wasn’t ready to blur my inner and outer worlds. I was choosing my own reality right now under closed lids and sweeping lashes.
I heard him whisper “Good girl.” His words made my heart flutter. It chipped away at that someone else that was still here, still pretending to be the model citizen. I didn’t want to be her. I wanted to be someone else. I wanted to be broken down into my primal self where something as beautiful as sex wasn’t dirty, shameful or something to be used against me. That concept belonged to the other world where filthy names and lewd positions were for whores and sluts, for those that were beneath….something, a dominance unchosen?
He leaned in and replaced his finger with his mouth. It was a slick, wet kiss, the kind that makes a girl tingle. I knew he smiled at me again when he ran his fingers through my hair and gripped it almost painfully. Another piece of me fell to the floor, another move towards freedom away from societal bonds, of strangers telling me what I should and shouldn’t be.
Strange how we let others define us. How many words to tell you what to do, to tell you what you should and shouldn’t be and what makes you a good or bad person. Strange how we let others build us, define our shame and our glory. What happens when we don’t fit into that mold? Are we shunned? Are we whores? Are we less worthy because we disagree?
He pulled back my head exposing my neck. He whispered in my ear, telling me what kind of girl he wanted me to be. I let loose a smile so wicked that his grin shone through to my lidded eyes. Then a soft bite on the tender of my neck, I fell to pieces right under him. I became that other girl, the one I so long to be, deconstructed by the nip of teeth, a soft kiss filled with blistering heat.
Who am I? I am who I want to be, clearly defined by my own choosing. That is freedom, even freedom in the bonds I choose. Yes, I call a man Master, but that is my word to speak, my choice to make, my woman to be. I am deconstructed and reconstructed as I choose. That is the beauty of being, the beauty of self, the beauty of freedom unhindered by others views.
.