Coffee with Deity

Hi. I'm Stormy, here only in Deity's temporary absence. You'll have him back soon, I promise.
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Last year sometime, Deity wrote a post about the day we first met. I thought it was lovely piece of writing when I read it. Seductive and erotic undertones that pulled me as much as the meeting itself.

As his faithful readers know well, Deity has a way with words that make the scary things seem... tempting. Those things that a good girl would never (and should never) ever want, he makes you think "hmm, maybe..."

A dangerous guy.

And so I can't help loving him to pieces because there's something deviant in me - and in you, I think, dear reader. It's something that makes you ponder: "hmmm, maybe..." as he makes his mysterious universe into your shameful temptation.

In my case, I was tempted enough to meet him, and vice versa it turned out. So here is my own recollection of coffee with Deity.

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It's a drab afternoon in the city, the sky full with bloated, dark clouds washing out the usual vibrancy into muted colors. The air feels slightly muffled and the city feels as resigned to its fate as I do.

The coffee shop is as he described it, long and narrow, and I spot him right away, though he said later that my glance around the cafe was in search of him. It wasn't. I recognized him immediately, but I have senses like a police officer (or perhaps a criminal?) at times -- my back usually positioned against a wall and quick exits established in advance. Eventually my eyes return to him and I take a deep breath and move to greet him.

Deity described me as awkward that day and I'm sure that's true. From the start I am at the disadvantages of his choosing, my back to the door and in unfamiliar territory. And I'm drinking tea which he's ordered for me, when I feel absolutely certain I should be sipping something like Glenlivet for this introduction. Hell, I should be gargling it.

But no. I'm here in this foreign coffee shop, his own personal lair. The tea is calming my chill but the caffeine threatens to escalate my nerves. We talk about nothing. It's charming, but evasive.

Deity's girl isn't available today, attending some grand event elsewhere. Deity is so very proud of her, both of who she is and her accomplishments. He tells me more about the things that make her amazing to him, and I agree, she is amazing. It relaxes me to talk about her. I am not here to get involved with her man, after all. Simply to meet a close friend I'd never met before.

But that doesn't mean there is no sexuality present at this table. For one thing, I suspect Deity would bring a D/s component into a brief conversational exchange with a 65 year old librarian grandmother, if he thought it would entertain him.

And so for this meeting of ours, he's especially focused.

He wants my attention and he confirms this for himself in small ways, by my obedience. I'm drinking the tea he ordered; I'm wearing the boots he advised me to buy long ago, knee-high with 4" heels that I've finally mastered; I'm fitted in a long, fashionable skirt that I knew he'd approve of; and I've abided some underwear 'suggestions'.

It's surprisingly embarrassing. To meet someone with whom you have no expectation of sex yet to still be their sexual toy. I could have been cheeky and not conformed to these preferences of his, but for what reason? He is dominant, I'm submissive. This dance is part of our natures, and he leads it.

Our conversation turns to less trivial things and the intimacy of it makes me nervous. I should leave, yet I'm feeling trapped here. It might not be sex, but I do feel a bit like I'm getting fucked. God, such a pleasant buzz it is...

And so I know I'd better leave, but when I come to that decision he seizes my wrist holding me in place.

Everything is quiet as I get my bearings. I slow my breathing, matching that buzz in my head to the calm, dark sky outside the cafe window. Everything feels serene yet threatening.

I'll let Deity finish the story in his words:

When i feel that you are ready, i lead you through a slow discussion of what you'd confessed to me online. I force you to talk explicitly about the things you want done to you. I demand that you speak at the same conversational level that we were previously. You are made to describe why you believe you deserve to be treated this way, why you have come to meet me at the cafe, and why you know this has to happen.

As each minute passes with you not taking your eyes from mine, i strip you of your vices. I remove you of your hangups. I peel away your vulnerabilities. At a certain point, you'll disappear.

At a certain point, you'll be gone.

Indeed, I was.