Everyday Stranger

The Unexplored Territory

A bed isn't just a bed.

A bed, a 4 foot by 6 foot area, is a whole new platform for a range of emotions, options, and challenges.

I gave up on living in my little space and have just settled into Y's space, cramming my few possessions under his bed (and I hate having things under the bed, then I can't ascertain where the monsters are under there) and I sleep next to him every night.

The bed has become many things to me.

A bed is a Discovery Channel. Time spent exploring uncharted territory and curves, to deduce which gentle slopes have had fingers, teeth, breath there, and to leave a flag behind if you were the first. To take a look at the map of scars on a human body and ask where they came from. What is the story behind this one? How old were you? I may not remember where the host of my many scars came from, but can you tell me yours?

A bed is a history lesson. Fingers entwined and laying side by side, on the good nights you tell stories of the day you had today. Of the past, a time when I didn't know you and you didn't know me. Of tales of childhood and pleasures-he was a Scout. I read books. He watched "The Magic Roundabout", I watched "The Great Space Coasters". He lost his virginity on the marker for Greenwich Mean Time, I lost mine in the living room of my boyfriend's parents. Who were you before you knew me? And can I be myself with you, the real me, the one I am just getting to know, the contradictory nutcase that loves you to bits?

A bed is a U.N. peacekeeping zone. In times of war, when harsh ammunition has been hurled, it is a place to negotiate the finer lines of a peace treaty. You offended my nation when you said this. I attacked him when I said that. Careful not to touch borders in the bed, not to cross the lines of demarcation, we battle our way to a Resolution, which culminates in a peace-keeping fierce hug from Y as we lay down to sleep-the anger not abated but the simple desire to touch still there.

A bed is a confessional. I confess my sins, and I receive my atonement. A quick movement from Y hauls me to my back, and he kisses me hard, bruising my lips and grinding his body to mine. I return with my own confession, admitting my stupidity in lines of nail rakes down his back, drawing his head back with gasps of pain and uttered words of admonition. He slides into me roughly, the annointing oil having paved the way for him. I bit his upper arm hard, digging my teeth into the skin and allowing the salt of his skin to pervade my lips.

He flips me in one motion onto my stomach and throws the duvet over my head. From under the down quilt I hear a sweet, soft whisper noise, almost mechanical in nature, and I have no idea what it is. Seconds later, I feel raining fire on my bottom, the gasping sting of leather smacking my flesh and sending the blood vessels scattering, as he spanks me with his belt. And within a few seconds of the belt being lifted, I feel a heated pleasure build in my face and body, a tingling that I have never felt before. Four lashes in all, and then he roughly takes me from behind, finishing in seconds.

After, he gathers me up on his lap, whispering worried words that he has hurt me and apologies for being too rough. I soothe his fears and his brow, telling him that as long as he never hits me in anger, we're good. That I loved it. That I have been absolved of my sins, and he is absolved of his. We fall asleep curled up, and this morning the air of anger is clear, and that sparkle in his eye that he gets when he looks at me is back. I can feel it back in my eyes, too, a catchy edge of humor and lust, replacing the tired and swollen look of before.

My bottom is sore as hell, my lips are bee-sting swollen and he has a perfect plum shaped bite mark on his arm, along with the scattered of freshly-plowed scratches down his back. I wouldn't trade a battle scar for the world.

And it's with satisfaction that I remember my Catholic background and the wonderful absolution that comes with confessing. I know for sure that I will be visiting the bed confessional again, and I am preparing myself already.

Forgive me, Father...for I have sinned.

-H.

Posted by Everydaystranger at April 8, 2004 10:46 AM | TrackBack