Thursday, May 2, 2013

SM Johnson ~Thursday Morning Coffee ~ A Tiny Sip

Good morning, darlings, I hope you're having a lovely Thursday. Go pour yourself a cup of coffee - (Why yes, I'll have some too. Thanks).We in the upper Midwest are relieved as all get out to welcome May and to report that April's fucking-crazy-snow-shit-bastard has MELTED. Thank the gods for that newsflash, hmm? That's the "pro." the "con" is the whole world here looks dirty and ugly, now.

How much snow? According to some source or another, FIFTY-ONE fucking inches.

Yanno... it's not that it falls, and it's not that I have to drive in it, or wear my Sorels (mine are NOT this cute, for the record) for days on end - it's that you have to move the shit... off the car, off the porch, off the driveway... which is highly inconvenient. It's also that I kept getting my car stuck and needing to call in "boss's wife-pretty-please-with-sugar-on top" begging kind of favors, when I know the drivers (and the boss) are tired as hell and probably more sick of the white stuff than I am. (Why yes, I did notice that the driveway was FUCKED for the second time, and yes, I chose to attempt to drive into it anyway. I will be a stubborn creature of habit).

This is a stupid, stupid place to live. But... it is what it is.

One very nice sight to see - underneath much of the snow is grass that has been sucking up all the lovely melt-off and, as it becomes exposed, the world is already looking a bit healthier. The squirrels are fat and busy. The robins, however, look a bit disgruntled, like angry birds.

The Canadian geese have been back for about a month. This week, driving Sprite to school, I noticed a lone goose on the sidewalk wandering among the kids. There's a bit of a story here...

A pair of geese make their home in the school yard. Not a flock, just the one pair. And at the beginning of April they were hanging out and waddling too and fro, doing their funny goosey honking thing and making the kids squeal and shy away (the pair was not shy at all)... and then one morning I saw a lone goose (or gander, I surely cannot tell) pacing the side of the road. And then I saw her mate. Also on the side of the road, but not alive. (Cry) Rumor has it that they mate for life, so I drove home feeling not very good at all. Cursing careless distracted drivers of cars, snowstorms, and whatever else.

But it does look as if our loner has adopted some of the children, and that is interesting. I hope none of them are mean to her/him/it.

Ooooh, Jeremiah Quick is taking shape and filling out at 25,000 words already. This baby is... sigh... really, really dark. Blissfully dark, I hope.

I have numbered chapters, and have a pretty nice flow between Now and Before... and...

Jeremiah has stolen her, our unnamed protagonist. It is... a little bit mean and, I think - I hope - a lot delicious.

Because there's something about a stolen story, you know?

I'll give you just a tiny, tiny sip...

And then he appeared in front of me, almost smiling, almost making me smile, because he was wearing the old, old jacket, the one with the spikes, and it instantly took me back in time, my heart soaring at the sight of him – yes! This. My friend and teacher. Jeremiah.

He cupped my cheek with his left hand, and for just those few seconds, looked like he wasn't lonely. And his mouth came close to mine, his breath warm against my lips, and it seemed an eternity of waiting happened between the breath and the kiss.

He released my face first, and then my lips, and walked behind me, tugging the flogger from my shoulder as he circled around me.

I braced and tensed for the thud, and this time the tails landed on my back.

It felt like… well, not much different than the massage of his fingers, really – heavy and warm, not biting, but there, unable to be ignored.

It came again, a definite thud, not frightening, not exactly painful.

I counted to two on my fingers, then waited a beat, two, and then… three. This one definitely hard enough for me to catch my breath. And… fou – but no, it didn't come. Wait, wait. I was already anticipating his rhythm, I guess – because it was what I had come to expect – fast or slow, there was always some discernible rhythm.

But… nothing. And then he was touching my hand, curling my fingers into my palm, lowering his head to kiss my fist, holding it enclosed in his hand for a few seconds, shaking his head gently.

I tried to follow his silent message. It was obvious he didn't want me to count. Because… this wasn't punishment?

Oh! Why did he make it so difficult? If he'd just talk, I thought I could bear it.

And then there was a rhythm, all right – and nothing I'd have been able to count on my fingers. The tails fell and thudded, one lash after another, and I reacted not at all at first, but later – and I have no idea how much later – with struggles and wiggles and flinging my head back and forth, trying to hard not to make sound, but my back was unbearably hot, some kind of mush and burning, and what I didn't identify as pain with the first few blows, and maybe not even the first quarter of an hour – now I knew as the worst torture I'd ever been subjected to.

And all of a sudden I knew exactly how to make it stop.

I heaved, and cried, and stopped fighting the burning in my eyes and just let them fill with the tears he wanted.

And immediately, the flogger was on the floor and he was facing me from the other side of the wood, blocking me from seeing myself in the mirror, leaning in and lapping at my face.

In the silence, I could almost hear him thinking, coaxing, Yes… cry for me. You know I love it.

Hands patting my hair, lifting it from my neck, blowing cool breath into the sweaty mess, and then he was walking around me, too close, until he was directly behind me. I watched him in the mirror as he took one last step and leaned, pressing a hundred tiny spikes into my sensitized flesh, hard enough that not only did I absolutely groan out loud... but I also came.

Just. From. That.

Ahh, Jeremiah, we're both just... fucked, aren't we?

And he… he took his silence and left, yet again.

Oh! This is what I'm reading (Imajica)... very slowly, but not at all painfully. I made some lame attempt to position it so ya'all can see that I'm about halfway through. Ahhh.... Gentle, and Pie 'oh' Pah, and Jude.... traveling through the Dominions in search of... well, I'm not even sure I quite know what they're searching for yet. It is the kind of book that gets me so deeply distracted that I chew my fingernails away and start nomming on my fingerTIPS (which I do not really recommend, btw).

I have been reading it for a record number of weeks, mostly because it is somewhat big and bulky to carry around - which I attribute to myself being spoiled by the portability of my kindle. But - there are books that are better to experience in physical form, and this is probably one of them. The sort of books where you flip back a few pages to remind yourself of something, or to check if you understood a passage correctly, and frankly, I detest trying to do that with the kindle. Hence... the loveliness of the library. And I do hope that libraries continue to exist forever and ever and ever. Don't you?

Speaking of... I need to go renew it, and then fall in some more.

Have a lovely and safe weekend, my darlings.

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