Stonehaven

I had become rather cynical by the time I visited Stonehaven. I held no hope of finding anything more than an evening’s entertainment. My first impression was forgettable. The place looked rather bland. Like other BDSM clubs, it had various bondage devices scattered around, the requisite castle, and a few noobs engaged in capture roleplay. In other words, it did not seem very inspiring. Still, it was a capture roleplay sim, so it held at least a small promise of danger, a little bit of intensity perhaps. So I entered.

I wandered around for a few minutes, but no prospective captors caught my eye. Bored, I noticed a group of people gathered on a terrace beside the castle. Hoping to stay out of sight, I circled up behind them and stood at the edge of the terrace, hoping not to be noticed until I could eavesdrop for a bit.

Hello, Camryn. Welcome to Stonehaven. Oh well, so much for not being noticed.

I looked around for the person speaking to me. I saw him, prominently seated. He seemed to be holding court; others deferred to him. Among the group gathered there, he stood out. Tall, muscular but slender, with generous long hair, his avatar was thoughtfully put together. He was dressed tastefully in black leather, of good quality, with a contemporary look, not the dreary gothic sameness of most dominants.

I’m Walter, I’m a warden here, he said. If you need any help, or have any questions, just ask. I’m always available to help.

I relaxed a little. This was different from the arrogant opening lines most dominants employed.

I explained that I was new to Stonehaven. He offered his protection, and told me a little about the place. When I confessed that I was not well versed in the ways of capture roleplay, he smiled.

Do you have shackles, or something? he asked. Otherwise… it’s a little hard to capture you. He smiled. I blushed. I rummaged around in my inventory, found some, and put them on.

Now that I said that, Walter smiled, I’m going to capture you, of course. He laughed. I smiled, increasingly at ease. A friendly captor? That was unexpected. And yet I sensed something more within him, that made me think his good natured manner might have an inner strength behind it. I wondered what he was like if provoked. I decided I’d rather not find out first hand.

He reached out and grasped the shackles. There was an ominous yet satisfying snick as the locks snapped securely shut. Walter took the keys. I shivered slightly, feeling an inner thrill.

The shackles were more secure than I ever imagined. They locked not only my wrists, but my heart as well. Three years later, even when I do not wear them, I am still locked. Walter still has my keys.

.

Control, Intensity, Trust

My experience with that passionate young man taught me what I desired from D/s: control, and intensity. Those who think of BDSM as little more than sex with handcuffs might find it difficult to understand either desire. It is difficult to explain to someone who isn’t wired this way. The experience of surrendering, abandoning control of myself to a trusted dominant, thrills me beyond words—and the more control I give up, the more extreme my surrender, the better it gets. I also need for the space between me and my partner to be alive with intensity; without that, I am easily bored. In the absence of the emotional and sexual intensity I had known with Jonah, the world felt pale and bland.

After several weeks of searching, I began to despair. There was no shortage of dominants in Second Life; just a shortage of good ones. Again, those who are unfamiliar with D/s might imagine that being a submissive means that I like for people to tell me what to do—and that might seem like an easy desire to fulfill. It is not easy at all. In fact, I find it nearly impossible. The third thing I need, in addition to control and intensity, is trust. I do not trust easily. In my life, I don’t let anyone tell me what to do. I am rebellious and fiercely independent. In work and social situations I am usually the one in charge. Not because I want to be; but because no one else can dominate me. I am too smart, too strong, and my standards are too high. I want desperately for someone else to be in control, but I cannot trust enough to give up control to anyone unless they are smarter and stronger than me—and very few people are—and unless they earn my respect.

Jonah was one such person. It had been so easy to surrender to him; I had not fully appreciated exactly how many things had to click before that could happen. With each unsuccessful encounter, I began to despair that my relationship with Jonah might have been the kind that only happens once in a lifetime.

I was wrong about that.

Next: Stonehaven »

Reawakening

For several days, I roamed the virtual world, visiting BDSM clubs, in search of intense, extreme experiences to rouse me from the ennui that gripped my soul. At first, in my numbed state, it felt less like an adventure and more like research. Before I could have those experiences, I had to attract a dominant’s attention, and it wasn’t entirely the same as “vanilla” cruising. I made notes about how to get noticed, and learned the expectations of the dominants I met, so that I could be prepared to fulfill them. I outfitted my submissive’s tool kit: collars, handcuffs, gags, silks, latex, leather and sexy outfits; anything a prospective dominant might desire. I went to classes about D/s and joined several groups, mainly to listen and learn. Soon I knew which clubs to frequent, what to wear, where to stand, how to get noticed. I re-wrote my profile to present myself in the most appealing way. I became adept at attracting the attention of dominants, and had many interesting and strange encounters.

For three days, I became the property of an older, established Dom whose elaborate rules, rituals and protocols taxed my patience.  After that didn’t work out, I was captured by a 19 year old Turk who, apparently, was letting his 13 year old brother watch the computer monitor over his shoulder; I ended that one quickly. Then I met a European fellow who was only in SL to make initial contact and really only wanted to talk on Skype. Next was a man who wanted me as a house-slave to assist with his business, followed by a couple who wanted to share me; it took me less than an hour to decide against each. A brand new dominant was a lovely friend, but didn’t have enough experience to meet my needs, nor I his. There was an intriguing man with ice-white eyes who was into fantasy role-playing; unfortunately, that meant long, painstakingly composed descriptions of his every action and thought that were exquisitely crafted but took ages for him to produce. He brought me to his house for sex, but after two hours, he’d only managed to write us through a single kiss. After he spent another 45 minutes writing a description of removing his shirt, any arousal I might have felt had totally evaporated, and I’d nearly dozed off waiting for his next lines. Knowing there was no way to build a relationship there, I excused myself.

It was rather common to find dominants projecting a certain image that ultimately bore little resemblance to their actual personality. Everyone seemed to be a stereotypical Goth in black leather, heavy boots and spiked wristbands, with a scary name and dangerous-sounding profile. One such dominant turned out to be a cream puff who mostly liked tickling. Another severe-looking hyper-masculine Goth collared me for a couple of days, until I discovered that he was actually female. One exceptionally dark and dangerous dominant gave me chills… until he opened his mouth and started talking, bursting the bubble with a notable lack of sophistication, intelligence and ability to spell.

With each encounter, satisfying or not, I learned more about myself and what I wanted and needed (and what I didn’t want or need). Thus I was alert when, three weeks into my search, I met a young man who expressed an intense desire to possess and control me. As we explored one another, sharing our hopes and failures, to my surprise I felt life stirring in my empty heart. There was no sex between us; just possession, and complete control. His intensity reawakened my passion and tuned it to a fever pitch. I gladly surrendered myself to his control for one glorious week, before the differences in our needs became painfully apparent. He was “just passing through” to make initial contacts, uninterested in Second Life for its own sake, preferring only phone and webcam contact. His disinterest in the possibilities of the virtual world disappointed me, and ultimately his insistence on real world involvement caused our relationship to unravel. But inspite of that, he gave me a great gift. He breathed new life into my feelings, and helped me remember how it felt to be consumed with desire.

Next: Control, Intensity, Trust »

On the edge of tomorrow

I am standing on the edge of tomorrow. All the yesterdays that led me to this moment of “now” are behind me. Before going forward, I pause for a moment of self-examination. What am I feeling?

Empty.

I have felt much emptiness recently. But this is different, somehow. Until now, I have been feeling an emptiness that is lifeless. Now I begin to feel something else: a kind of dry, windswept empty. I have been empty because of the absence of the one I loved. Empty because I am missing the passion I used to have in my life; I long to feel something, anything. But that kind of empty is about the past, about what I have lost. The past is behind me. Now I am standing on the edge of tomorrow. I am looking forward. I look at the emptiness in another way: maybe empty doesn’t have to be about loss. Empty can be good. Empty can be clean. Empty can mean there is room, now, for something new.

I surprise myself that I am starting again, trying again. Yet here I am, standing on the edge of tomorrow.

I wrote the above words in my journal as I began a new chapter in my Second Life. I remember that I felt nothing, neither hope nor fear. If anything, I felt inert—seeing the future, but unable to move forward toward it. Needing to break out of my inertia, I wrote the words dispassionately, then closed the book and just started walking. I had to move. To put one foot in front of the other and simply move forward, without feeling. Just move. Thus I entered the world of BDSM in Second Life.

Next: Reawakening »

Into darkness

But I’m getting a little ahead of the story.

Those were dismal days, after Jonah was gone. I seemed to plunge into a darkness that muted my heart, my thoughts, my desire, my outlook. It was not a darkness of anger or anguish. It was nothing so dramatic. No, I didn’t feel pain, or rage, or resentment. I didn’t feel anything at all.

My relationship with Jonah had been a dizzying series of highs and lows. In the words of the poem: when it was good, it was very, very good; when it was bad, it was horrid. At any given moment, I would be soaring the heights of bliss, or else my heart was ripped open. There was never anything in between. My friends were perplexed when I would sob, heartbroken, after the latest fight, or worry during one of his unexplained absences. Loyal to me as they were, their concern was reasonable. Why on earth do you stay with him? they would ask. Look what he does to you. Granted, the bad times were extraordinarily painful. But what can I say? I was in love with him, and that kind of love transcends the immediacy of highs and lows. For me, the good times were so good, that it was totally worth hanging in there through the bad times. I knew those bad times would happen. But I also knew that they would end. No matter how horrible the fight was, I knew he would be back, and that if I could let go of the hurt and anger, and allow myself to embrace the pleasure, the bliss might be even more exquisite than anything I had yet experienced. Hanging on was worth it, because the lows were predictable, while the highs kept on getting higher.

Until the day when they stopped, for good.

The soaring and plunging between highs and lows with Jonah had been exhausting. But even the anguish of the lowest low was not nearly as bad as the deadness that had taken over me now. I felt no relief. I felt no pleasure. I felt no longing. I felt no pain. I felt nothing. I continued to move through life, putting one foot in front of the other, but it was like eating food without being able to taste it. The world had no color. I could not take pleasure in anything. It was the worst.

I remembered that there had been a time before Jonah, a time when Second Life was shiny and new and interesting. Hoping that I could get interested in something, anything, I explored SL, wandering, searching. I shopped, but without enthusiasm. I went sailing, but it was boring alone. I tried to build, but with no one to build for, every prim just reminded me of my loss. I even made a half hearted attempt to date a little, but compared to Jonah, every man I met was a disappointment.

It was unbearable. I became desperate to break free of the deadness, the ennui. I just wanted to feel something. To feel some evidence that I was still alive.

My mind wandered back over my two and a half years in Second Life, trying to remember whether I’d ever done anything else that could potentially shake me out of this state… anything intense enough… even a little risky. I started wandering in the back alleys, the red light districts, the post-apocalyptic ruins, the darkest corners of SL. I threw caution aside and sought out sexual encounters that were anonymous, primal, a little dangerous. The danger caused something to stir inside. I went after it with a hunger for more.

As I searched for experiences intense enough to rouse me from my ennui, I recalled a moment from my distant past, before I met Jonah. In the first flush of realizing that in SL, as long as I stayed anonymous, I could try anything without threat of physical harm, I’d visited a seedy meeting place and challenged myself to flirt with the most dangerous looking man I could find. He was pretty scary, too; he was tall and powerfully built, with an air of dark power around him, dressed in black leather with metal trim. I may have been brazen, but I was still naive; he told me he was a Master, and I responded, a Master of what? He laughed. At that time, I honestly knew almost nothing about BDSM, and certainly nothing about D/s, dominance and submission.

He corrected that quickly. Here, put this on, he said, handing me a collar. I hesitated, a thousand questions spinning in my head. Should I do it? What am I getting into? My heart was racing. The fear of the unknown. The thrill of danger. I took a deep breath. What’s the worst that could happen? I thought to myself. In a rush of boldness, I complied, and put on the collar.

I waited nervously as he typed some information and adjusted the collar. Suddenly, I was kneeling. I struggled in confusion. Why was I kneeling? I didn’t recall wanting to kneel, or touching my keyboard in any way. But there I was, on my knees, hands behind my back. I looked up at the Master. His dark eyes were fastened on me with an intensity that made me shiver. From now on, he said, you will greet me this way.

Then I heard a snap, and the chink of metal; I saw that a chain had been attached to the collar. He held the other end. Come, he said, and turned and walked away, obviously expecting me to follow.

Um, I don’t think so, I thought to myself. I don’t know where this is going, and it sounds like a good time to stop. But to my shock, I could not stop. I seemed not to be in control of my movements. Not of my own volition, I followed, jerking along at the end of the leash. It wasn’t up to me. Every nerve was firing as I grasped that by putting on that collar, I had given control of myself to someone else.

Now, two and a half years later, my memory of the intensity of that brief encounter created a spark of interest in my otherwise dead heart. Those few days I spent with that Master had opened a new world to me. I only had a glimpse of it at the time, but something about it resonated very deeply. I know that the prospect of not being in control scares some people half to death. Others place great value on their freedom and independence and are not interested in losing it. Until I met that Master, I thought I was one of those people. After all, in RL, I am usually the one in charge; the manager, the leader, the chairperson. But not because I want to be. I do it because it is expected. Being in control energizes some people. Not me; being in control depletes me.

Gradually, subtly, that Master taught me to see something in myself, something that goes against the grain of popular culture. That first experience was a surprise; he took control without asking. If he had not, I would never have understood. Once I tasted it, though, I wanted more. I gave up control to him willingly. Each time I did, I had no idea what would come of it. But the excitement was intoxicating.

I came to realize that I feel this thrill because I am, by nature, submissive. It wasn’t a choice. It’s just a part of my personality that I was born with. I had managed to ignore it for my entire life, to that point, believing myself to be a natural leader.

My first encounter with D/s lasted only a few days. I met Jonah not long after. Was his naturally dominant personality part of his allure? He did not practice BDSM in any formal way, but because he was dominant by nature, and I was submissive by nature, our relationship had that dynamic. I ceded control to him in everything. He made all the choices, deciding what we would do and when. He always operated the menus, selected and placed the pose balls; he even designed my avatar, choosing my clothes, skin, shape and hair. Being in control of me was deeply satisfying for him. For him to be in control was deeply satisfying for me. 

Now, in my dismal numbness, I remembered those butterflies in my stomach, the sensation of simply letting go, letting someone else be in charge of me, accepting the danger. Would BDSM provide the intensity I needed? I decided to find out. When I felt the thrill in the pit of my stomach as I faced the unknown, I began to suspect I was on the right track.

Next: BDSM in Second Life »

Revealing my secret

I am a very private person. I am also quiet. I listen a lot more than I talk, and rarely talk about myself. So those around me don’t know much about me. I know they are curious. They sense that my eventful past holds secrets… and my present does as well. Usually I like to keep it that way. But sometimes, there is a good reason for revealing secrets.

I have said that a relationship is a space between two people. That space could consist of a few wispy strands of fluff, or glow hot with passion, or run deep and strong like a river. Relationships are diverse in character. This blog allows me to create new relationships; as I reveal my secrets to readers like you, the space between us comes alive.

In my opening posts I told the story of my first SL relationship. Now I will begin to tell another story, of a time when I was lost, and searching. If you are lost too, you might resonate with that. There is another love story waiting at the end of that journey, and I will tell that secret too.

I hope you will join me for the journey.

Camryn Darkstone

Wake Up!

What are you longing for? Where do you long to be? 

I went to see Paradise Lost: Shadows and Wings, the epic opera electronica by noted composer Eric Whitacre. This amazing piece of musical theater weaves together techno music, anime, manga, martial arts and Asian drumming with awesomely beautiful music. As a purely sensory experience, it soars. And for the past two days, I found that the memorable music stayed with me, haunting me, nagging me to remember the story it told.

In the story, lost angels are trying to get back to Paradise. They have been marooned for 17 years, since they were children. Two friends, a young man and woman, sing, 

“All they ever think about
is being any other place than this…
They remember being home,
but they’ve forgotten what it’s like
to feel a paradise of bliss.”

In the end, they don’t make it. But just on the verge of death, they suddenly see what has been right in front of them all along. Realizing their love for each other, they finally embrace and sing,

“If there be a paradise of bliss,
it is this… it is this.”

This could have been my story. I am going through some difficult things in my RL right now. No paradise of bliss, to be sure. There are times when I can’t even remember what it was like not to be weighted down with stress, worry and pain. I find myself wishing, longing for peace. Someday, I think to myself. Someday I will find that happiness I yearn for. It seems so elusive. It is out there somewhere. Like the lost angels in the story, I can’t seem to find my way home.

The song. The song was just so beautiful. It kept spinning in my head. Trying to get my attention.

It was some time this morning when I finally woke up to the message of the song. In the cool of the early morning, the sun streamed through the trees, creating a golden glow in the humid air. Everything around me was green, and so beautiful, bathed in golden light. As I thought of how much I have to be grateful for, even in the midst of trouble, and of the One who loves me, I realized that the bliss I long for is not “out there” somewhere. It is here. Now. Right in front of me. I don’t have to go searching. I just have to open my eyes.

If there be a paradise of bliss… it is this.

Don’t cry

With Jonah gone, the color seemed to drain out of the world. Without him, I had trouble finding pleasure in anything. Through force of habit, I continued to log on to Second Life, but shopping, building, meeting people and exploring just seemed less interesting. I moped for days without relief, until one day, I happened across words by, of all people, Dr. Seuss:

Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.

It might sound harsh to say this, but uninterrupted bliss is simply not the way of human existence. Normal lives are a continuum of routine, boredom, stress and frayed relationships, punctuated by injury and illness, failure and disappointment. That is just how things are. What makes it bearable? When the tedium is suddenly interrupted by brilliant flashes of joy. Stolen moments of happiness. The first flush of love. Surprising beauty. A realization of contentment.

Any of us are really, really lucky to experience any of these things, even for a moment. The secret of survival is to be on the lookout for them, and when they do happen, allow yourself to be in that moment, fully appreciating and enjoying it. Really taste the chocolate. Smile when your cat purrs in your lap. Feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. Notice your lover’s tenderness. Delight in his little quirks. Be fascinated by the creativity of an artist. Be grateful for laughter. Let yourself be in awe of beauty, when you find it.

I hope this doesn’t sound like a platitude, because the truth is that living into these fleeting moments of grace has a transformative power. Practice it, and one day in the midst of heartbreak you will be able to notice healing, and be grateful for it, which will, in turn, heal you further.

When Jonah was gone, I cried for days. At first, I could not bear to think of any of the things I loved about him… his tenderness, his creativity, his passion, his quirky wit, his handsome charm… without being grief-stricken by their loss. But slowly, I began to understand that I grieved so much because I loved so much. The depth of my grief honored the depth of my love. I allowed myself to honor that love, and feel the enormity of its loss… but also to feel deeply grateful that I had been lucky enough to experience it. If I had not been so lucky to love and be loved by someone like Jonah, I would have no reason to grieve. And I would be so much poorer for it. How incredibly fortunate I was to have known this man! In the continuum of routine that is life, how extraordinary it was that we shared two and a half years together! And to think that he loved me… that I was able to experience such a remarkable love. Not everyone gets to have that… but I did. How lucky is that?

Little by little, I began to smile because it happened.

Next: Into darkness »

Too Real

Those who have not experienced life in a virtual world might suppose that it is just a game, a make-believe world that is all sunshine and happiness. If you can make the world to be anything you want, why not make it unreal? Why not simply leave out anything that is unpleasant? The perfect day I described in my last post was a beautiful, romantic, fantasy day. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if life was an unending succession of one such day after another–nothing but relaxing on the beach, shopping, dancing, making love?

I suppose that one could approximate such perennial bliss by simply ignoring the reality of one another’s lives. But that was not the choice that Jonah and I made. We related to one another as real people in a fantasy world. The visual setting might have been imaginary, but I never thought of Jonah as anything other than the real, flesh and blood man behind the avatar.

Although we did not meet in RL, Jonah and I shared much of our lives with each other. I knew what he did for a living, more or less where he lived, what his home was like, his dog’s name and breed, the make and model of his car and computer, what he did with his days, his childhood dreams, his career aspirations, his birthday. In turn, he knew similar things about me. We spoke on the phone, and chatted about everything, SL and RL.

A few months into our relationship, reality intruded with a rude slap. Uncharacteristically, Jonah was offline for several days, with no word. When he reappeared finally, a shaken Jonah told me that he’d had a medical issue, and surgery was scheduled. I learned then that Jonah’s style was to withdraw when he was worried about something. I let him have his space, and waited and worried alone. I sent him daily messages of support and reassurance. He came through the surgery successfully, and after a period of recovery, things between us slowly got back to normal. But this frightening dose of reality colored our world. Not in a bad way. It made it deeper, less perfect perhaps, but more authentic.

Our fantasy was sometimes interrupted in other ways. Jonah’s job sometimes became very demanding. I missed him terribly when we couldn’t be together. I would log on and wait, just in case. If he did find a moment to log on, I didn’t want to miss that chance to see him. And of course, as with any couple, there were arguments, jealousies, and unintended hurts; these we typically faced, talked through, and made up from, each one painting our relationship with more of the colors of reality.

Other separations were more difficult. I never doubted that Jonah loved me, but he had a serious case of wanderlust. There were times when he would get restless and visit the red light districts of Second Life. When I found out about it, I was shocked, and it took a while for my self-confidence to recover. As time went on, and I began to understand that such behavior was routine, and did not really affect his feelings for me, I accepted it grudgingly–but the happy fantasy world in which I’d been living lost just a bit of its magical shine.

One day, Jonah came to me, agitated, with the news that due to a situation in his first life, he would have to leave Second Life for a period of time, and would in fact be incommunicado. He promised he would return, and pleaded with me to wait for him. After a tearful goodbye, I stood, alone, feeling as if a piece of my heart had been ripped out. But fidelity is one thing I do very, very well. I would wait for this man for as long as it took. I knew that although he would not be able to communicate with me, or to log into SL, he might be able to see a web page that would show him my current location in SL. Knowing that he might be watching me, I determined to reassure him that all was well. So, I began a life of solitude and seclusion. I logged in to SL at regular times, and almost never left our land, to which only he and I had access. That way, if he did look in, he would see that I was not keeping company with anyone else. Even though I knew there could be no response, I sent encouraging emails reassuring him that I was waiting, faithful, still his.

The days stretched into weeks. And still I waited. My friends were puzzled, wondering why I would restrict myself from enjoying all the delights of Second Life. For heaven’s sake, they said, go out–enjoy yourself. He’s not here, so why not? But that is not the person I wanted to be. I choose to be a faithful person, a trustworthy person. I honored my love. Because I wouldn’t go anywhere, what friends I’d had gradually drifted away. I waited steadfastly, hoping for word from Jonah. Nothing came. Still I waited. Long days of solitude, no conversation, no connection, except to my memories of Jonah, and the wonderful life we shared. It meant that much to me. I was willing to wait.

It was nine weeks before I finally heard from him. It was probably the most difficult nine weeks of my life. Not difficult because I was tempted to stray; I was never tempted, not for a moment. And not difficult because I was alone; knowing that my seclusion was a gift to Jonah, the thing he would need from me, made it easy for me to bear. No, the difficulty was fighting the loss of hope. After so long, I began to fear that he would never return. That my faithfulness was in vain. That perhaps his feelings for me had been just a fantasy all along.

Bliss was mine again when Jonah returned after his long absence; we embraced our old life of fun, creativity, romance and sex. But that nine weeks had changed me. I found myself less relaxed about our relationship, and more clingy. Now I was the one who needed reassurance. He’d been gone so long, I needed to hold on tight to make sure he was really there. In retrospect, I know that was a mistake; but I really couldn’t help it.

A few weeks after his return, I became aware that even though things between us seemed fantastic, Jonah was visiting the red light districts again. He would log on late at night, when he knew I would not be online, for quick encounters with strangers. I knew about it, but I never said anything. We fought about whether I wanted too much from him. A few weeks later, I became aware that he was seeing someone, and concealing it from me; not the anonymous encounters of the red light district, but something that seemed more like a relationship. He had various excuses for the time he spent with this other woman: she was a friend, she was troubled and he was comforting her, or he was helping her with some technical problem. I didn’t press him on it. Even though he could not be faithful, I could; I continued to strive to be the person I wanted to be, embracing my promise of fidelity.

After a time, things between him and the other woman ended, and we enjoyed several weeks of happiness together. But as time went along, there were more absences from SL; and when he was in SL, more clandestine affairs. I always waited them out, true to my promises. And he always came home eventually. When he did, there were still fun days; romantic, moonlit nights; steamy sex; and the ease of a comfortable space between two people who know one another very, very well.

Our relationship lasted two and a half years. In Second Life time, that equated to decades. I remained true to him that entire time. But finally, a day came when the demands of his work and personal life were such that he had to say farewell to Second Life forever. And I closed the book on one of the most remarkable chapters of my life.

Only to open the next one.

Next: Don’t cry »

One Perfect Day

For the sake of readers who have trouble imagining a Second Life relationship, let me describe one day in ours.

In RL, the sun crept through my bedroom window early, splashing across my bed and nudging me awake. As I opened my eyes, memory of the night before brought a smile. Rolling out of bed, I crossed the room to the computer screen, and saw my avatar still nestled in Jonah’s arms, in our bed in the house on the beach. I heard the sound of gentle surf lapping on the sand in that virtual world, and the gauzy white curtains swayed as a soft ocean breeze stole through the open windows. It was easy to imagine the balmy sea air caressing my skin, feel the delicious languour of sleeping in a lover’s arms.

Jonah, who was one time zone behind me, had not yet stirred in RL, so I went to shower and dress. A few minutes later I returned and sat down at the computer with breakfast. Good morning, baby, I typed, leaving the message on the screen so that when he woke up he would know that I, too, had risen. I smiled when the response popped right up. Hi Precious, I’m awake, he wrote, and drew me into a warm embrace and a sleepy morning kiss. We stayed pleasantly entangled in bed for a few minutes, talking about the day ahead. We both worked from home, which allowed us to steal moments together during the workday. I need to hit the gym, and then run to a client meeting, he said, but then I’ll come back, and we can be together while we work, okay, lover?

That sounds perfect, baby, I said. I have a lot to do this morning, but I’ll be right here. I kissed him tenderly, then watched his avatar vanish as he logged off. Rising from the bed, I dressed in a bikini, pulled a diaphanous sarong over it, and wandered downstairs and out onto the beach. As I finished my breakfast in RL, where I was clad less alluringly in t-shirt and jeans, in SL I stood in my Bali bikini on the virtual beach, listening for a few minutes to the surf and the cries of seagulls, watching the sun rise and fill the sky with pink and gold. Then I turned my attention to my workday, with the beach in the background on my computer.

Shortly before noon, a soft chime alerted me to Jonah’s return. My heart leapt with joy, and I left my email for a moment, bringing the Second Life screen to the front to see my incredibly handsome man walking across the beach toward me. I couldn’t get you out of my mind all morning, he chuckled. Mmmm, you look good, baby. He kissed me passionately, and wasted little time before leading me to a private nook and treating us to a little quickie nooner. Then we nestled on a chaise lounge on the veranda, cuddling in SL, while in RL we each returned to our work, popping in to SL from time to time to steal a quick hello.

At the end of the workday, I came back to SL to find Jonah building. He was putting an addition on one end of the house where he’d be able to dock a sailboat. I stood in the shade under nearby palm trees, watching. Jonah was an incredible builder. When I build, I have to plan everything out with sketches and measurements. He had an uncanny ability to just do it by eye, and the results were always ten times better than mine or nearly anyone else’s. We chatted as I watched teak and bamboo turn into a veranda adjoining a small dock. When it was ready, he rezzed his sailboat at the end of the dock, where it was close to the house, but easy to pilot out onto the open water. I could hear the sound of the water lapping against the hull of the boat, see the ocean breeze nudging the lush tropical grasses sheltering the walkway. Maybe it was just a boat dock, but it was so beautifully designed, so evocative, my heart swelled with appreciation for his gifts, his creativity, his desire to make a good life for us to share. To celebrate the completion of the dock, we hopped on to the sailboat, and sailed around the tropical islands where we lived. We laughed and joked as we cruised the virtual sea, then pulled back into our lovely dock.

I have to run and get dinner, he typed. But will you meet me a little later? I smiled. Of course, lover, I replied. I have to run some errands and do a few things here, but I should be back before too long. We kissed, and both logged out of the virtual world for the time being. I was intrigued. What did he have planned?

Later in the evening I logged back in to find that Jonah was online already, but not at the house. An IM from him pinged onto my screen. Hi baby, he greeted me. I’ll be there in a few minutes, just taking care of something. Get dressed up, okay? Let’s go dancing. That sounded wonderful, and I told him so. Hmm, what to wear? Paging through my ample closet, I finally decided on a slender, dark red gown by Last Call, in a softly draped silk brocade with off-the-shoulder lace neckline and sleeves. Black suede peep-toe sandals with a subtle silver trim were a good match. A sensual up-do and a single strand of pearls highlighted my bare shoulders and completed the look: softly romantic, understated, elegant. I was ready for whatever surprise Jonah had in store.

Soon he sent a teleport, and I joined him at our favorite ballroom, where he was waiting for me, looking so handsome in his classic tux. We both enjoyed dancing in SL, and occasionally went to a jazz club, Latin dancing, or kicked back at a blues joint. But tonight was for romantic elegance. Under the stars in the open air ballroom, we swayed to vintage big band tunes. His charm captivated me as his arms encircled me and drew me close for a slow dance. I was in heaven. Leaning forward, his lips nuzzled my ear, and I shivered. I want to take you somewhere more private, he whispered. Breathlessly, I nodded. Wait just a moment, he breathed, and I’ll send for you. He kissed me then vanished.

A few seconds later, he teleported me to a place I did not know. As I materialized, I looked around to see where we were. A waterfall spilled over the edge of a high cliff overlooking the ocean. We stood on a small plateau just below, where the water cascaded into a rocky pool before falling the rest of the way down the cliff. The night sky sparkled with a million stars. Jonah held out his hand with a smile. I took it, returning the smile, and let him draw me close. Soft music blended with the waterfall’s sound, and we slow danced there on the cliff’s edge, seemingly suspended in the starry sky. I saw and felt his hands caressing my back, and shivered softly, leaning into him. His hands slid down to my ass and he pulled my body against his. I yielded willingly, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing up against him, leaning up for a kiss.

Come, Jonah said, and led me down into the pool. The virtual silk of my gown was safe, but it was as if I could feel the cool water rising up my legs as we waded in. Jonah pulled me into a passionate kiss directly under the waterfall, the spray showering around us as he lifted me to him. I saw that the cascading water hid part of the pool behind the falls. Stepping through the waterfall, we found ourselves in a very private small grotto. Jonah had prepared the place for us. We kissed, standing waist deep in the pool, peeling off our elegant clothes to savor the imagined sensation of skin upon skin. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his waist; he moved to the edge of the pool, so that I was sitting on a rocky ledge, dangling my legs in the water. There, we made love, long and slow, until at last we collapsed in each other’s arms, joyously exhausted.

Afterward, cradled together bathing in the secret pool, the stars sparkling through the curtain of the waterfall, we held each other, talking softly, intimately. Finally, reluctantly, we pulled on our clothes and teleported home. We said goodnight as our avatars nestled together in bed, spooning comfortably. Knowing that 1500 miles away, Jonah was doing the same, I rose from the computer, went to my RL bed, and fell asleep dreaming of one perfect day.

Next: Too Real  »