This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is about meeting a stranger on a train. I’d like to tell you something sexy and kinky immediately came to mind, that the idea of meeting a stranger got me hot, wet, and ready for kinky fuckery. It didn’t.
I’m not good with strangers.
People who’ve met me in person after knowing me online will beg to differ, but here in this place,to me, you’re not a stranger. Not usually. Have we had a few conversations? Perved each other on social media or our mutual blogs? Do I love how you write, think, or do your kinky fuckery? Well, hell, we’re practically family at that point.
Of course I’ll hug and laugh and talk way too much when we meet. I’ll forget about my discomfort. You’ll never believe I’m an introvert. Hell, I’ll be as rowdy and kinky in person as I am here on the screen. Well, I won’t strip my clothes off…don’t get too excited.
But people who are new to me? People I just met? People I don’t know at all?
Eek! I’d like to hide in a closet, please. (I almost wrote “under the bed” but you see how that could be a problem, right?!) Call me when they’re not a stranger anymore.
Oh, that’s right. People only stop being strangers once you make eye contact, have a conversation, and connect. That’s the hard part.
While John Brownstone and I talk about the next stage of our relationship, the caveat is that I know I can’t do it alone. I can’t meet a total stranger. I can’t do that eye contact thing.
Part of it’s introversion (a very small part). Part of its anxiety. Part of it is a lack of confidence. Part of it is an inability to pursue another person.
Believe it or not, I’m not sexually or romantically forward with anyone until I’m at the John-Brownstone-level of comfort. As you can imagine, that’s a pretty high level to achieve. I have to be pursued. I have to be approached. I almost have to be coaxed into it – made to believe the other person has a genuine interest.
Except I don’t make eye contact or talk to people I don’t know. See where this gets complicated?
Basically, I’m a lot of fucking work. And I don’t expect anyone to pursue me that hard (imagine my surprise when John Brownstone did all those years ago!). I’m not going to do it, so why should anyone else, right?
I talk good game about fucking and sucking someone other than him. But I also know it’s because he’ll be there. He’ll initiate things. He’ll guide me. He’ll lead. I’ll follow him down a path and find my own pleasure in the process.
But a stranger? No, I can’t imagine that happening at all.