Wednesday, December 31, 2014

New Beginnings

They weren't fact. They were possibility. Nothing more, nothing less,
but the force of the possibility was shattering.

— Haruki Murakami


Anticipation - 013114 - Miz B

I know that this time of year makes many people nostalgic - they look back over the past year and reminisce.   I've never been much for looking back, even at the best of times ...perhaps because I'm usually careening ahead toward new adventures at breakneck speed and even a glance backwards can be a disastrous loss of focus on life at the speed of B!   

New Year's for me is a time of excitement and anticipation.   The year past is mere foreplay to the delights that await me in the new year!  I savor these breathless moments - New Year's Eve is like being at the top of the roller coaster, waiting for that exhilarating plunge!   

Loyal readers and friends will not be surprised to learn that I am ALL about anticipation - the seduction of potential is my drug of choice.   Much as I love results, I prefer process.  In bed, in life, in love - lingering relentlessly on the very edge of bliss is often more heavenly than the fleeting joys of satisfaction.   And no sooner have I reached peak, than I strive to climb again, in new ways, with new people, and with achingly deliberate prolonging of the journey.

Wait For It - 123114 - Miz B

Any year, any romance, any dalliance can rock your world in a moment of "POW!" ... but the truly great ones are delicious in the quiet moments as well.   They carry you from the valleys of angst to the pinnacles of passion, always knowing that you are safe and adored.    In the best of loves and years, we find our happiness is a quiet certainty, punctuated by roaring flashes of ecstasy.   Contentment is not found in perfection, but in the belief that it exists in perfect moments.   In the coming year, I invite you to share your passions and your perfect moments with us, as we share ours with you.   Take the time to savor the potential of 2015, bask in the anticipation of it's pleasures, and find new passions in its shadows! 




So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it. She taught him that after a celebration of love the lovers should not part without admiring each other, without being conquered or having conquered, so that neither is bleak or glutted or has the bad feeling of being used or misused.
― Hermann Hesse

Monday, December 29, 2014

Red is...


Andrea Ruso - 122914 - SideB
Red is deep anger that never comes out
Red is believing, and then having doubt.
Red reeks of revenge, of suffering and hate.
Red is being thirsty and having to wait.

Red, in a painting, makes one hot and confused,
It’s the anger of crying when you feel you’ve been used.
Red is that voice, deep in your head,
It could keep you back, but pushes ahead.

It mocks you silently with a voice full of hate,
“You can’t do it, you are weak, and it is your fate.”
Red feels like fire, singeing your heart,
It’s wanting to be together, but having to part.

Red is running through desert and sun,
It’s needing a friend, but having none.
Red is the heart that’s been broken in two,
It’s hearing those lies, and wanting what’s true. 
Color Me Red ~ Starr Williams
Andrea Ruso - 122914 SideB

Red is...

Andrea Ruso - 122914 SideB
The hardest thing to define is a color.  If I ask you to tell me what is red, you probably have two choices.  Scientifically you could say red are the colors of the visible spectrum around and above 380nm (accurate, but it doesn't refer to what red is like), or you could give me examples of red like stop signs, red hair (which can be orange), blood (the blood rich with oxygen), and other items.  That still doesn't tell me what red is or what it means.

For starters, we know not everyone experiences red the same.  My red may be your pink or green.  Women prefer cool reds that are more toward violet and men prefer warmer reds leaning toward orange.  

Red can symbolize passion, sex (red-light district), rage (seeing red), violence, and war.  In some cultures it means purity while others it means "sullen".  For more cultural and general interpretations of red, please explore this link. 

Red seems so powerful, yet if you are a painter of walls or art, you know that red is a tough color to lay down.  It is almost transparent and needs so many coats to build up a rich depth.   Red needs to be very concentrated.

For me, red symbolizes all these things, context is important for me though.  When it comes to the color of hair, it holds a charge for me, but in different ways.  Natural red is like treasured gold to behold and revere, to take.  Chosen red is something different that suggests to me power, passion, sensuality, and rebellion.  It is to be taken, but can never be taken lightly.  It is also to be taken by.

What does red mean for you?
Andrea Ruso - 122914 SideB

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Innocence

In the past I wrote about innocence and the lust/fetish of deflowering and Lolita.  Nothing much has changed in my thoughts on it.  I understand the power that one can feel taking the virginity of another, regardless of the gender of either participant.  It just isn't my fetish.  I prefer...

With that, here is an early Yuletide taste of the great Aleska.

Aleska - 122314 - SideB




One more thing - Happy Holidays.  Please interpret that as my wish to you for a peaceful and beautiful holiday(s) of your choice - Christmas, Hanukkah, Festivus, Winter Solistice, New Year, Kwanza, and any other special day you celebrate this time of year.


Saturday, December 13, 2014

Memoirs of a Jaded Romantic : In the Sweet Afterglow


“There was a time in my life not so long ago, that I experienced a moment that could only be described as pure love and happiness. 
It was as if love and happiness were finally real to me and were something tangible, embodied in that moment. 
They were in everything I could hear, touch, taste and smell. 
I could see them with my very eyes – reflected back at me in someone else’s. 
They were all around me, breathing life into me, as if wrapping me up in a blanket.

And in that moment I caught a glimpse of something. 
A parallel universe - a way things could have been. 
An alternate reality where that love and happiness were mine to keep, a place where I didn’t have to let them go.

I only hope that one day…. many years from now when I am an old lady and I close my eyes for the last time – I will open them again and find myself there.” 
~ Ranata Suzuki

Afterglow - 121314 - Miz B


And thennnnnn....


Foreplay rocks, intercourse is awesome, orgasm is fucking outstanding.   But an often neglected part of sex is one of my personal favorites.  Afterglow is like dessert after a five-course gourmet dinner.   Somehow even when you think you are satiated, it's the perfect finish to a lovely evening and a little goes a long way.

Foreplay reveals your partner's heart and character in very simple ways.   Anyone can act affectionately when it serves their purposes - in the quest for sexual conquest many sweet lies are murmured and many tender touches can be faked.   In the heat of the moment, a lover can be passionately engaged in a moment, without being personally engaged with you.   But once that primal release is achieved, all niceties evaporate.   That woman who gazed into your eyes a moment ago bolts for the door and that man who whispered sugar against your neck can't even remember your name.   This isn't an ugly truth to a Jaded Romantic, it's simply reality.

Rare is the lover who lingers long past climax to drink his fill of your lips. Precious is the woman who breaths in your scent on her skin and glows with the warmth of your aura mingling with hers, as your pulses slow and synchronize.   When you find that you are as attracted to your lover after release as before ... when you know that all it will take is the right look, the subtlest brush of their breath against your skin in the right spot, to re-ignite the passions in you both ... there is a luxuriant joy in feeling their skin against yours and drifting to sleep.   Time melts away when you linger in this luminous space for two - and it's a blessing to find someone who will drift along with you on the currents of possibility.  

Foreplay moans, "I want your body."  Intercourse growls, "Take me."  Orgasm screams, "Oh God, yes!" Afterglow whispers, "I want YOU - please stay!"    Afterglow is the time when we are completely exposed, together in the shadows, and there is no place we'd rather be, nobody we'd rather be with, and no version of us we'd rather be.   



Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dreamed of all the different ways I had
To make her glow
~Just Like Heaven, The Cure

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

I Still Feel ... the sizzling words of R. Yearby


I still feel my name vibrating from your lips echoing in the fold of my inner right thigh My fingers still chart the course your tongue traveled fingernails and fingertips remembering your landmarks of upraised tongue flicks I remember your mouth how your tongue buried brimstone in white papaya... How you sucked the ache to the surface until i bubbled over at the power of your grasp how you held my legs wide as the line of the shore kissing the waters until the waves became more you left me desolate knowing that no other will find the Rosetta Stone to unlock ....me and in this....I smile~~ R.Yearby

Paris Bleu - 121014 - Miz B

Saturday, December 6, 2014

Memoirs of a Jaded Romantic: Kiss Me as if it Were the Last Time

“He wanted to draw out the moment before the moment- because as good as kissing feels, nothing feels as good as the anticipation of it.”  ~ John Green

However jaded this romantic gets, there is no denying the absolute power of a kiss.   It’s moving and sensational in a way that very few intimate acts can be.   It’s a benchmark for prospective lovers, and a litmus test for emotional connection.   There’s a reason that most prostitutes won’t kiss Johns … it’s much too intimate!

So shout-outs to the men and women who have elevated the kiss to an art form … from the tease to the tongue, from that look to that lick.  Not everyone has it in them … some people are too selfish or too unskilled to pull off a masterpiece kiss.   To deliver a classic, a lover must be willing to open themselves, read their partner, and yield completely to the moment. 

Kiss Me - 120614 - Miz B

  
The greatest kisses cannot be rushed - they must be allowed to develop slowly, organically building as the magnetic pull between your mouths dances and arcs between you.   World class kissers make you feel that they’ve been dying in the desert and you are water.  Your lips trade electricity, amplifying all that is best in the two of you.   When you open your eyes with a dizzy flutter after a kiss like that, the world is a better place and your partner is somehow MORE than they were before. 

An amazing kiss can turn a toy into an obsession, a romp into a romance, and a flirtation into a fantasy.   It can turn decent sex into a decadent symphony of sensuality, and incredible sex into a religious experience.   More than any other single act, how a person kisses you defines the limits of who they can be to you.  There is no substitute - your lips on mine will rock my world or ruin my romance before it even begins!

“Kissing her
is warm wet
dangerous magic. 
Her mouth 
conjures 
a storm 
inside me.”  ~Kirk Diedrich

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

I'll slide my tongue over your skin, oh, Love ...
you're the sweetest taste of sin! ~ Unknown

Lick II - 120214 - Miz B

His tongue
Sandpaper silk 
Laps milky skin

His lips
Pillowed pliers
Pull rosy nipples

His mouth
Tasty teaser
Lures lovely lust






Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Confessions of a Connection Junky

“His eyes are so intense I want to look away . . . 
or never look away, I can’t decide.”  ~ Kasie West


Smiles - 112514 - Miz B

Fetish.   Variety.   Kink.   You all know that I'm not shy about sharing.   I'm a huge fan of wild, adventurous sexual exploration.   But here's a true confession:   nothing feels better than being happy!   I get questions all the time about positions, and body types, and what wild tricks float my boat.   I can go on and on about the technical details, but when it comes right down to it, my "thing" is connection.   I don't care if you fuck like a graduate level gigolo - just look at me THAT way!

Is there anything more fulfilling then when another person looks into your eyes and makes the rest of the world go away?   Is there anything more flattering than when they smile like you are the only thing they need in this whole world to be happy?   Is there anything sexier than a partner who is glowing just because you are there?

I'd trade my top-10 all- star porn-star-style sexual experiences for one night spent in the embrace of one person who doesn't feel a need to stunt - they just want to absorb me, taste me, touch me, and memorize every inch of my skin.   Not as a science project, not as a conquest, just as an experience they hunger for.   I'd trade every compliment I've received from silver tongues, for that one speechless moment where a lover can only beam at me, like that was the greatest night of their life.

We all get caught up in the trappings and techniques of sex.  We all catch ourselves going through the motions and checking intimacy off our to-do list .  But sometimes, if we are very lucky, someone doesn't just look at you - they stop for a moment and SEE you, and the way they light up tells you that what they saw was truly beautiful.  





Monday, September 22, 2014

Burning Thirst


My panties were still on but he didn’t let that stop him, nosing them out of the way and tonguing my sex, making low, growling noises in his throat like a big cat purring with pleasure while it devoured its prey.
~Emme Rollins


There's something about being devoured ... something primal about a man who hungers for you, stalks you, and has a taste only for you.  A man who is starving for you cannot be distracted from his mission ... he drinks of your sex like his life is a desert and you are the oasis.   When he looks up from between your thighs, his eyes tell you that he will take his fill of you, gorge himself on your sweetness.   He is skilled, he is devoted to your pleasure, but this is for him - to satisfy, if only for a moment, his insatiable craving for you. 

Burning Thirst - 092214 - Miz B





Saturday, August 9, 2014

Erotica in word and image

Great erotica is often better than erotic visual imagary for me.  I can get lost reading it by creating my mental world that the words inspire.  My mind takes me into the story in ways that an erotic photography can't.  I've tried writing it and have some decent stuff, but I know my talent lies behind the camera, not the keyboard.  I greatly respect those that can capture eros in words.

These are from are recent shoot with Andrea Ruso - she is a great person to create with.  Below are the two flavors for today.  Tell me if you prefer one and why, please?


Andrea - XXXXX- SideB



Andrea - XXXXX- SideB


Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Follicles y fotos.

A number of years back I posted online the photo below of Katie.  It got many comments, but the one that sticks in my mind still is, "Yuck.  Get a razor!"  I was so mad that I almost pulled the photo off the interwebs.  That anonymous troll had gone too far and found one area I am very sensitive about, my models.  He/she also made me think about how subjectively judged body hair on models can be.

Katie 072914 - SideB

First of all, I am open to criticism of my art and erotica.  It makes me better at what I do.  One thing I will never accept though is derision of my models.  I am very protective of them because they shared so much for me to create my visions.  They are muses and muses in my book are above saints.


Krista 072914 - SideB
Second, I do have my own aesthetics for the grooming choices of my models.  It all comes down to what I envision the final products to have as critical elements.  These elements include mood, theme, attitude, color scheme, costumes, location, my mood, etc.  Once that is established, I will then go look for the perfect model.  Some are more natural and others keep their personal grooming very trim or bald.   I have photographed about all areas of the spectrum and loved how each model looked.  This goes for male models as well.  The important part is that she/he has the grooming style I need for my vision.

Leila 072914 - SideB
Which do I prefer for my personal/non-photographic life?  Some will say I don't have a preference, and that is not true.  I want what she feels is right for her.  I want her to feel sexy and beautiful.  For some women that means no hair except on their beautiful heads.   For other's they are natural from head to toe.  I want them to feel comfortable and sexy so they can focus on the sensual moments together, not just trying to match what they think society expects of them.  

Eleanor 072914 SideB

For me, any woman who feels sexy is sexy.  She could feel it is her smile, her eyes, her mind, her body, her desires and she is right.  Sexy is sexy and if it is something she is confident of and makes her feel good about herself, then I will probably find  her very sexy.  Maybe it comes down not to the grooming habits, but confidence.  By grooming and keeping a look or appearance that feels comfortably sexy and true to the her is truly the sexiest and most alluring element of all.




Friday, July 25, 2014

Wrapped Up in Him

One of my favorite feelings is to wrap myself up in my lover's clothes & breath in the smell of him.   It's almost like he's holding me, even when he's far away.   The material brushes my skin like his fingertips, reminding me of how he thrills me.   The warmth of his shirt surrounds me like his arms, reminding me of how he holds me close.   The scent of his cologne envelopes me, filling my head with the comfort of his skin on mine.   They say that a man's clothing on his woman is akin to a flag flying over a conquered fortress.  I say they are right ... when I wear his clothes, I am wearing him ... I am his.


Wearing Him - 072414 - Miz B

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Memoirs of a Jaded Romantic: Point of No Return

For some people, “the point of no return” begins at the very moment their souls become aware of each others’ existence.  
C. JoyBell C.

Once, in the midst of recreational romps and temporary distractions, something magical happened.   From the most unexpected person, at the most unexpected time, she stumbled across genuine connection and intimacy.   She no longer believed in unicorns - every single time, they turned out to be asses with horns glued to their foreheads.  She was no longer waiting for the fairy tale prince charming to ride in and carry her off to a perfect life in a castle.  She couldn’t even say words like “forever” without a cynical mental chuckle.  Simply put, she was stunned when someone actually touched her heart and mind instead of just her body … completely floored to find her soul was not immune to the gravity of his smile.

She found it equally unsettling and delightful that he hovered in her mind, danced in her heart, and sizzled through her flesh - and that was just the anticipation.  When he turned all of his physical and mental focus on her, she was completely overwhelmed.   It was not that he did anything so special - he wasn’t a sweet talker, he wasn’t skilled in mind-blowing techniques that she’d never felt before, & he wasn’t particularly romantic.  No matter how she struggled to put a reason behind her reaction to him, it simply was what it was.   It was not what he did, it was completely who he was … and who she was when they were together.  

His hands were average … gifted musician's hands, but nothing about them proclaimed an electric touch.  Yet when they took her hand, caressed her cheek, or slid along her slickness, they arced with magic sparks.   His lips were full and soft, but merely lips nonetheless.  Yet they transformed on her body into fountains of pleasure that tantalized and fulfilled in equal measure.   His body was gorgeous - perhaps not the most finely sculpted of her experience but solid and balanced and lithe … yet when it merged with hers and surged against her, it was the body of a god, powerful and omniscient of her needs.   

Unable to understand why he affected her so, she was captivated.   She craved the rush that only he provided.  After so many years of going through the motions, she found it irresistible to need his touch.   Was he affected the same way?   Did her presence ignite him with the same inferno of arousal?   Did it even matter?  Perhaps what he needed was to be wanted that way, needed that way, desired that way.   Perhaps he didn’t need anything from her.  He may have been oblivious to how he moved her … and his oblivion may be all that saved her from being lost altogether in him.  Had he ever realized the power he had over her, exploited that addiction to his passion, she would have been completely at his mercy … an idea that terrified her even as she longed for it.

Universes - 7/8/14 - Miz B
Sometimes the significance of a love affair is not in how it ends, but in how it begins.   Theirs had begun with an electric inevitability, an instant point of no return that altered her forever - and isn’t that the point?

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Mrs. Robinson and the pizza delivery boy.

In our last post, Miz B wrote of the more experienced, mature woman and the young men they seduce.  Today I want to share my own experience when I was the young lamb at the whim of the mature woman. 

First, it may read  like a bad letter to Penthouse or an 80's porn scene.  The difference is that it took place over many weeks and not just a one-time thing.

When I was twenty I delivered pizza for the local pizza joint for a summer job between college years.  I loved the job because I got to escape the broiling kitchen and listen to tunes in my car as I raced around the town to deliver pies in under 30 minutes. 

Most of the time I went to some family's home to deliver dinner.  They usually tipped a buck.  Every once in a while I delivered to a big party and dropped off a few pies and drinks.  They either tipped graciously or stiffed me. 

One hot July night, I pulled up to a nice home in a new suburb and saw a dozen cars parked out front.  I rang the doorbell and a beautiful  raven-haired woman answered the door.  After exchanging names and a smile, I had four pizzas for her and she had a check (yes, you could pay with those back then).  I carried the pizzas in to her kitchen while she joked about my work uniform.  As I was about to leave, she gave me a 20 and said softly, "Do you work tomorrow evening?" 

I quickly replied no.  She then even more softly said, "Stop by again and let's have dinner. "

The next night I showered, put on way to much Polo cologne and drove to her home.  I had all the money I had saved in tips to take her to dinner.  I guessed she was twenty years older than me and was wondering what she saw in me. 

I knocked on the door and gave her a few roses from my garden.  Pam smiled and invited me in.   I asked her where she wanted to go and she said she had cooked a dinner.  It was a simple dinner of salad, chicken, and pasta salad along with some wine.  We talked over dinner about my college ambitions, her life path (she was a single mom and her son was the dad's place for the summer).  She was a guidance counselor at the local high school. 

After dinner, we went out to her deck and held hands and kissed.  We explored a bit with our hands and kissed and held each other in her big lounge chairs.  She walked me to my car and kissed me again.  I drove home so hard and smiling. 

A few nights later, Pam and I went out for a drive and made out on the local cliffs overlooking the city and exchanging kisses, pets, feels, tastes and touches.  I drove her home and we kissed good night.
Valya - 060314 - SideB

After many more dates like this, she invited me to one last weekend together.  College was about to start for me and her son was coming home in a few days.  I spent the next two nights and days in her arms, her in mine, our legs laced together.  We moved around all the rooms in the home, except her sons, and spanned the spectrum of making tender to love to desperate, hard fucking.  We also laughed, cried, and came.  The last evening, I ordered pizza and when my friend Chris delivered it, I paid, smiled, and shut the door while wearing just a towel.  We laughed over it and beer.  We then made love one more time and I headed home.

We never really saw each other again.  There was no internet, email, texting, just letters and phone calls back then.  I think though that we both knew we had lived our moment together and knew that our moment had then passed.  I was at the beginning of my adult life and she was so far ahead of me in hers.  I loved her and she loved me, but in a way that made our parting sweet and filled with erotic memories. 

It has been twenty-five years since that summer.  I still think back and try to figure out what it meant.  For her, I hope it was a summer of her retaking her sexual life and living again.  For me it was when I truly felt like a man.  I was no longer a clumsy teenager fumbling to get the young lady's bra off and trying not to come too fast.  I became a man that was well on his path discovering how he wanted to be with women and how to make them feel cherished and satisfied.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Memoirs of a Jaded Romantic : Proceed With Caution

No one ever left ... Ever. She kept men until their bodies and minds broke beneath the strain of loving her. She kept them until she tired of them, and when she sent them away it was the leaving that drove men mad. I was powerless. I was a novelty. I was a toy, favorite because it was newest. It might be a long while before she tired of me, but the time would come. And when she finally set me free my mind would tear itself apart with wanting her. ~P. Rothfuss


Over the years I've learned that more experienced, mature women should come with warning labels.   Yes, we know what we want.  Yes, we have skills.  Yes, we can teach you a lot.   But frankly, we are going to mess you up.   Badly.

Don't get me wrong ... most of us have the best of intentions.  We enjoy sculpting young men into stellar lovers.   We are patient and intense, passionate and interesting, adventurous and generous.   We want to give you the best experiences possible.   And we will.   Sadly, therein lies the rub ...


Venus - 052614 - Image courtesy of S. Sneddon





Never again will you be content to settle for those little girls who don't know who they are, what they want, or how to do - well, anything!  You will have no patience for immature games and petty fights.  You will be more annoyed than you can possibly imagine at how little independence they display.  Their insecurities will be like fingernails on a chalkboard and their laziness in bed will make waterboarding sound attractive.

Simply put, gentlemen, there is no going back.   You will be spoiled by a woman accustomed to the finer things in life, who knows how to savor you as one of them, and knows damn well that she is.  It won't all be about what we do, but how we do it.   And once you have soared to the heights with us, nothing less will do.   How could anyone without our experience and self-awareness possibly be expected to measure up?  




 
Venus II - 052614 - Image courtesy of S. Sneddon 















I'm not saying it won't be worth it, but please understand that you will be haunted by us.   Don't say that we haven't warned you ... welcome to our world of graduate-level sensual delights, but proceed with caution, dear man - this is not a journey for the weak- minded and faint of heart!  





Would you like me to seduce you?  Is that what you're trying to tell me?
~ Mrs. Robinson
(The Graduate) 

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

As promised ... in all it's uncensored glory!

As requested on other less nipple-friendly sites, here is the unedited version of this image.  Naturally, I think a stunning image stands on it's own merits, but since I'm a writer by nature, I also see an opportunity to spout some accompanying philosophy! :-) 

Mink, Marble, & Miz B - 052014 - Image courtesy of Shaheed Photographer

Let's talk about WHY it's necessary for me to edit images such as this one for most sites.  Why is it that in a culture as supposedly advanced as ours, the human body is considered so scandalous and so shameful?   

Having lived in Europe, where nudity is on display in the newspaper, public squares, countless museums, and many baths, pools & beaches ... having viewed the human body as a worthy subject of DaVinci and Botticelli ... having found no shame in my own nude form ... I am maddened by the American delusion that nipples are evil but violence is not.   We will allow all forms of bloody depravity in our movies and games, but heaven help us if we see a living naked body or show people sharing passionate love.   

“If a man is pictured chopping off a woman's breast, it only gets a R rating, but if, God forbid, a man is pictured kissing a woman's breast, it gets an X rating. Why is violence more acceptable than tenderness?”  ~Sally Struthers 

Perhaps the answer lies simply in our largely Puritanical roots.  Perhaps not.  What say you, dear Readers?   Why does this image need to hide in the shadowsexposed? 

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Excerpt from Memoirs of a Jaded Romantic: Damned

Damned - 051314 - Miz B


I've heard it said that your soulmate is someone whose demons play well with yours.  Sometimes love is your salvation, but sometimes there can be no happy ending.   Sometimes the best you can do is to love, hope that they know they are loved, and be there until they are consumed by their own despair.  Sometimes, the closest you can come to redemption is to hold their hand at the end, desperate to believe that knowing they aren't alone in their final moments will somehow be enough.

Undeniably, there is a fine line between genius and madness.   It's especially true in the tortured soul of an artist.   Make no mistake,  to be a wildly passionate lover is an art.   To rampage through a woman's soul requires a certain creativity and daring.   To stimulate all the pleasures, one must have suffered and been lost in angst.  The dangers of love require a bold heart, undeterred by risk and ruin.   Is it any wonder then that the most intense of love affairs often revolve around a dark streak of self-destruction?   

To love a woman like herself, a man must be unhindered by the rules.   Perhaps having nothing to lose made the pursuit of her more appealing.   Over and over, she learned that damaged men were drawn to her - like a siren on the rocks she was a glorious means of emotional suicide.   She was irresistible, unattainable, and completely obedient to the whims of her heart.   She was the best of him, brought out the worst in him, and would be sacrificed on the altar of her devotion to him.   

In the end, he loved a woman he could not reach.  She loved a man she'd already lost.   They were damned by their love and the inevitability of its disastrous demise.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Excerpt from Memoirs of a Jaded Romantic: Karma

Very few people know that before I got caught up in modeling, entertainment, & photography, my passion was writing.   I'm not sure why, in the midst of a lot of very busy weeks, I have suddenly found myself unable to sleep, with prose bouncing around in my head, demanding to be let out on "paper."   But I have learned over the years that my understanding is not required by my muse - she only insists that I follow her.  I have a plethora of thoughts beginning to form a collection: "Memoirs of a Jaded Romantic" ... it is my intention to protect both the innocent and the guilty by keeping to myself which excerpts are fiction and which are fact, who inspired them, or which I personally relate to.   That being said, they are all very real to me and deserve a voice.  I'll be releasing excerpts here in preparation for publication!  Here's a first peek at this collection with a snippet of "Karma" :

For months he had been a Chinese puzzle box to her.   She’d look at him from one angle and think she saw him.   But with a simple turn of her head, she’d see that she was wrong.   Or at least not completely right.   She’d press on a facet and his shape would shift and reveal a new compartment, sometimes a dead end, sometimes a treat.  She’d press again another day and find that side was now stubbornly locked.   He was a challenge, an entertainment, a frustration, a treasure, and a delight - sometimes all at once!

There were moments when he was everything she wanted, but they were fleeting.  They would part as lovers, bonded by whatever connection they had forged in an unguarded, magical interaction; but when next they would meet, he was once again aloof and unreadable.  Always he was just charming enough to hold her interest, just wonderful enough to draw her to him, but never engaged enough for her to feel loved.  He was an addictive torment, a devastating dream, always there yet always just beyond reach.  

But one night, in a sudden rush of horrific clarity and crushing disappointment, she realized that he was not a puzzle to be solved.  There was no secret combination of moves to open him to her, to reveal his secrets.  He was not a man, a lover, a partner, or an opportunity.   He was Karma incarnate.  He was the sum of her actions, visited back upon her.   With that realization, her anger faded, her frustration evaporated like so much mist, and she felt only a sad weariness that drove the air from her lungs, squeezed her heart without mercy, and left her utterly bereft of hope for the comfort she so longed to find in his arms.

Her time with him was a reflection.   Every man who had ever adored her from exile in the friend zone would recognize her longing to have him look AT her, instead of through her.   Every lover who had longed to revisit her arms, when she had moved on without a backwards glance, could relate to her longing for a return to the mythic moments when he was fully engaged and made love to her like he meant it.  And every lover who had realized in a moment of ecstasy that she was tolerating their touch,  rather than savoring & craving it, would most certainly empathize with her grief at the occasions when her heart swelled towards his in bliss, only to find that he was elsewhere in every way that mattered.

She would happily exchange all the random adorations of fans, all the loyalties of stable companions in her life, in exchange for his passion.   And in the end she realized that this bargain she was willing to strike was exactly why she didn’t deserve his love … why she would never be looked at that way again ... why she deserved the torture of his indifference.  She was, after all, indifferent to those who felt for her as she felt for him.  It was cosmically right that she should stay engaged in this relationship, that she should stand by him devotedly while he spared her an occasional sideways glance.  It was karmic justice that she receive just enough from him to keep her yearning for him alive … for she had always had a talent for keeping people in her thrall even when she had nothing more to give them.  


Then she mourned for him … and for her innocence … and for the love she once thought existed for her, out there, somewhere.  She missed her righteous anger at being taken for granted.  She missed her determination to take such good care of him that he couldn’t help but love her.  And she missed the potential for both of them together to be more than they were apart.  It would have been so beautiful, but she had killed their chance for true love slowly years before they even met, with the careless destruction of other hearts she had left in her well-intentioned but clueless wake.  Karma:  at last she understood … too late … too late … too late.

Karma - 050914 - Miz B