Peering Through The Chink Of A Wall

Ay. Or else one must come in with a bush of thorns
and a lantern, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present,
the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing:
we must have a wall in the great chamber.
For Pyramus and Thisbe, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall.
            ~ Midsummer Nights Dream Act 3 Scene 1
I recognized the iconic structure immediately, of course.  The Great Wall of China isn’t something one mistakes for something else.  But that wasn’t the main attraction in the photograph he sent to me.
He was.
He stood in the foreground, a figure in a plaid shirt and jeans, sunlight glinting off the lenses of his specs.  The man with whom I’d engaged in a fun flirtation via email, chat and phone calls was no longer a faceless voice.  I saw the body that encased the mind and heart of the fellow.
Me likee.
Seriously.  I know you probably think I say that about every man, trying to be positive, but the fact is that some men are not that attractive to me.  Brad Pitt, for example.  He just does not do it for me.  Nor does Glenn Beck.  And while I know that some people think a slick, polished 007 specimen like Roger Moore is sexy, I much prefer the grizzled look of Daniel Craig. 
But who knows?  If those gentlemen had come to me the way my most recent Dom gentleman friend did, perhaps I’d have different feelings about them.  Pitt might be utterly charming via chat.  Craig might come off as a total ******* on the phone. 
But I’m reasonably sure my attitude about Beck would remain steadfast.  What a douche.
I hide behind a wall as I engage in erotic chat.  No man sees my smiling face or curvy splendour.  That was the deal I made with my hubs.  I can write my fool head off, but I cannot show it.  No photos, no video.  Thank goodness I didn’t think to offer to refrain from phoning.  Or to never meet anyone in person.  My life would be far less interesting if I’d not talked to some of these men, and the prospect of meeting a select few for cocktails and kisses would have been but an impossible dream.
We’d been chatting five days ago, when suddenly he sent me the photograph.  It fleshed out the figure of a man I’d grown to like enormously from the first time he’d contacted me.  He’s clever and kind.  Very much a Dominant.  But a chill Dom.  The sort who likes women, and is confident enough to tell one so, instructing her to go stand before the mirror, dropping her robe to view her nude body, touching herself in various ways and envisioning the hands on her as his.  To gently but firmly compel that she not elevate herself too much, dictating the writing convention of a lower case letter for her name to contrast with the upper case of his.  To equally gently but firmly demand that she not denigrate herself with phrases like “I am an idiot.”  This man knows how to make a submissive woman feel loved and protected by someone stronger without ever seeming heavy-handed.
His posture in the photo reflected that chill Dom personality to a T.  He faced the camera squarely, hands in pockets, his lovely lips forming a relaxed and self-assured smile.  Despite the glint of the sun on his eyeglass lenses, his eyes reflected the cool calm his words project.   
I remain hidden behind the walls my marital status has forced me construct.  He has stepped out from the screen of anonymity he’d erected in our earlier encounters.  It’s a gift he’s given me, providing his image.  One I wish I could provide as well.   Instead, like the lovers Pyramus and Thisbe, we’re compelled to talk through the chink in the wall.
This was not the first shot he’d shared.  A few nights prior to that, he sent a highly romantic note entitled “The first time we met.”  He’d attached a pic he’d taken moments before of the moon shining bright and large just outside his home.  We’d been chatting when he directed me to go outside to gaze at the sky, where one of the most powerful “super moons” in years was hanging out.  A super moon is a unique celestial event, when a full moon occurs close the perigee of the Moon.  That’s a point of its closest approach to the Earth, when the distance is much smaller than usual.
Him: I'd like for you to do something for me  
before we part this evening.
me: Tell me, love.
What is it?
Him: I want to share something with you.
For tonight
me: Yes?
Him: is the night
of the year  
where the moon will be it's fullest.
me: I know.
Him: I'd like for you to be outside
when the clock strikes
half-past one
I want to share the moon with you.
me: I love that idea so very much.
I shall be there.
Him: I will be outside
and look to the moon
knowing you're there with me
in some way
and I will smile
and think of you smiling back
Sigh.  Romantic, huh?  I certainly think so.  I love the things he says and the way he says them.  The way his mind works.  And the way his jeans fit.  I cannot share the photograph with you, but I will give you at peek at the chat which accompanied it.  Isn’t he lovely?
Him: I've felt it within me  
I've felt its warmth
I asked you that earlier
whether you felt that
whether you could deny its existence
and you could not
and nor can I.
I want to share myself with you as well.
me: This is really dangerous, you know.
The intensity of emotion could lead me to foolhardy acts.
I need to remain here.
The sharing has to be contained.
I do not want to mislead you.
Or make promises I should not make.
Because I already have promises to keep.
Him: You'll always make your own decisions.
Do you want to share yourself with me?
me: Yes.
Him: and I you.
12:40 AM 
me: Thank you for tonight.  
It was lovely.
Him: wait
me: I was just thanking you!
Why do men always think that means goodbye?
12:41 AM 
When I went to Chicago last October...
and I met a man with whom I'd corresponded...
we ate pancakes and drank gallons of coffee at a restaurant
and then we drove to a park
next to Lake Michigan
in separate cars, mind you
I was aware that I was vulnerable to abduction
we got out of our cars
and I said to him
Thank you for this morning....
and he said something to the effect that he was sorry I was leaving so soon.
And he asked me to walk along the lake instead
and I said
I was not leaving
I was just thanking him
Your "wait" reminded me of that.
 12:44 AM 
Him: For you...

6 minutes
12:50 AM 
me: For me?
What do you mean? 
You just sent me a photo.
Oh my gosh!
It's YOU!
Not just the moon.
Thank you so much.
Him: I wanted to share myself.
me: I'm so glad you did.  
I like your face
and the way you hold yourself
it makes me happy
you are as I envisioned
I love your expression
were you in love with the person who took that photo?
You seem very happy there
Him: I was in awe.
Of the moment.
That I was actually there.
me: It's amazing, I'm sure.
So iconic
So historic 
I've been to Hadrian's Wall
so I have a tiny sense of what it must have been like for you
Him: Indeed.
I typically
don't ask
such a question  
but where did you just go?
me: what do you mean?
I've been right here.
Him: between my For you...
and the time you responded
me: I was waiting
Him: ahh
I thought perhaps you took a moment
me: when I wrote Oh!  
it was the first your email appeared
Him: ah
me: there was a 6 minute delay
between the time stamp
and the actual time received
Him: yes
me: I thought you had gone away
to fetch something
Him: no
me: I did not want to be impatient
so I just waited quietly
finally I could wait no more
and that is when I wrote back
Him: very clear now
me: I like your smile
and the way your eyes look when you smile
milkynips milkynips
46-50, F
1 Response May 14, 2012

I would sure hope you didn't find Glenn Beck sexy. LOL