~LAFF-CUE-ARCHIVE: sf-trip-2.Z
~Subject: Alex and Laylah's trip to SF - part 2 (March 12)

    General disclaimer: there may be a largish amount of material
not directly related to a.s.b, and what IS so related may be not to
your taste, as we do a large range of play, from the sweetest D/S
and spanking to cuts, burns, &tc - and I'm just describing what
actually happened.  Flames welcome, but I may well flame you
back...:-)

   I tried to remember to get permission from everybody we met to
mention them on a.s.b ... but forgot in a few cases... and didn't
keep written notes, so if you find yourself unexpectedly
unmentioned here, I apologize, but it must be one of the cases
about which I was uncertain - sorry! Incidentally, if anybody
wonders whether it's all right to mention me and/or Laylah in posts
here, go ahead - blanket permission granted.

   These posts will be cut up at some compromise between reasonable
length and chronological boundaries.  As there's so much to relate,
I have not been editing as carefully as usual, so I apologize for
any errors!

    Fri, Mar 12 - the London->SF trip

   Up bright and early, showers, breakfast (not a _real_ English
one, alas - we think we'd better stay light), check-out from the
hotel, back onto the Underground and to Heathrow.  Everything goes
smoothly, and we're into our seats on the Jumbo and into the air. 
I put on the headphones for a bit of music and explore the various
channels - I stop at a heavily rhythmed bass that brings me
straight back to my teen years, early '70s.  A song I'm sure I
know, though I can't place it... hey! I'm startled as the singer
blurts out my wife's name.  What?  I didn't know there were _songs_
about her already, particularly not from back when she was 12 or
so... I go check the in-flight music programme and am relieved to
notice that at least it's _spelled_ differently: it's Derek and the
Dominoes in a 1972 song, "Leyla".  Yes, now that I think of it, I
did have that record back when I was 16... I swear it had slipped
my mind completely, though.  Well, good omen, I guess!-)

   We are served a surprisingly good dinner and we both manage to
sleep for most of the flight (much the best way to fly, IMHO,
although I rarely manage to sleep so soundly on a plane as I have
on this occasion).  A couple of hours before arrival (scheduled for
4 p.m. PST, about 1 a.m. on our biological clocks) we wake and
freshen up, and I shave.

   The plane actually lands quite a bit earlier than scheduled,
luggage arrives at once, customs and even immigration proceed
without a hitch, so I fear we'll have to wait quite a bit for the
person who should come to pick us up - Cassandra (yes, her legal
name), Laylah's Lady.  But, actually, as we walk out of the arrival
doors, there she is - and she and Laylah melt in each other's arms. 
We had never met in person, but they are SO important to each
other!  I also love and am loved by that wonderful woman, but I
realize it's not quite at the same level of burning intensity; so
I just stand there and let them embrace each other for a long time
before both remember I'm also around and turn to me for a sweet
three-way hug.

   Luckily, Cassandra had decided to drive to the airport early to
safely avoid the rush hour, so she managed to meet us despite our
early arrival.  We _shall_ have to wait for Josh, though
(Cassandra's ex, and also a long-time e-mail love of mine and
Laylah's).  We leave him a voice-mail message so he'll know where
we are, and proceed to a cafe inside the airport's international
terminal for refreshments and conversation.  Time flies, as we have
SO much to tell each other - Cassandra's off e-mail since she left
her job, back last Solstice - and Josh does arrive eventually.

   More hugs, a few more words, then we are informed that a
playparty will be held tonight, should we wish to attend...

   Well, we did have an inkling of that, from a phone conversation
with STella, and we had already half-decided to attend, probably
just for chatting and making acquaintance with some locals, unless
I should be too jet-lagged, or Laylah too tired.  But our
flight-long sleep has left us both in great form, so we
enthusiastically agree.

   We manage to make our luggage fit into Cassandra's car, and Josh
drives us all to our hotel (near Moscone Center, where I shall be
attending Uniforum next week), where we check in and leave the
suitcases (and, accidentally, the two kinds of special Bolognese
chocolate - 1 Kg each - which we had brought just for such
occasions, ack!), then from there to where the party is held (alas,
that party was one at which I forgot to check with most people,
including our kind hostess, if it was all right to mention
them...), stopping at Trader Joe's on the way to pick up sundry
munchies and drinkies, and at a coffee shop where I get my first
taste of California espresso (_quite_ worthwhile, though also very
different from normal Italian espresso we drink over here) - I
needed that to wake me up fully!

   At the party, besides several other people which I don't think
I have permission to mention, we first meet Charles Haynes, Kayvan
Silvan, and STella and her husband wjr (pronounced something like
"wugger" - there's a general laugh when I greet him as
double-u-jay-ar...:-).

   Charles and I recall each other well from a past flamewar on
a.s.b between us (started by a misunderstanding, as so many other
are) and greet each other warmly.  He's having his 36th birthday
shortly, and still hopes to manage to make a party for that,
although so far he's been unable to get a venue for it.  He's tall,
thin, with long straight black hair and fine and strong facial
features - extremely attractive.

   He also has a newly acquired British "commando" dagger which he
lets me handle for a while - what a fascinating toy - so well
balanced, neither too heavy nor too light, feels just like an
extension of the hand (despite the handle, which is a bit too
"shapely" for me, but I guess one would get the habit very soon). 
I'm sure it could also be thrown very precisely by one with the
skill for it.  The carefully blackened, un-glinting blade somehow
adds to the fascination, rather than subtract... it's not extremely
sharp, but Charles plans to remedy that very soon, of course, and
the excellent steel should let him do a wonderful job.

   Kayvan arrives a bit late, so we barely manage to greet each
other and make a lunch appointment for next Wednesday, since he'll
be visiting the trade show portion of Uniforum that day; he then
gets busy with clothespins and our gentle hostess.  From what
little I see of him, I'm struck by the focused energy and charm
springing from him, and by the measured yet naturally flowing
rhythm of his breathing and movements... I'm sure he's as
interesting in person as over the net, and that's saying much!

   STella is busy (getting her butt warmed up) when we arrive, but
she does manage to hand us a copy of Will's "Working Friday
Afternoon" post.  Oh goody, I'm glad Will managed to post it in
time and STella happened to catch it and get a printed copy to the
party - it's making the rounds and getting many a laugh!  [I later
learned that one gruff and extremely sweet person managed to get
upset by it and phoned BA to check if our flight HAD indeed run
into problems, though of course he's claiming he didn't _really_
believe it for one second...:-)... just a check: *did* anybody
doubt for even a wink whether it was reality or fantasy? that was
surely my and Will's hope when we put it together, though it did
seem a bit of a tall order...].

   I later manage to spend more time with STella (getting our fix
of tobacco smoke in the back yard) and arrange to meet for dinner
with her and wjr on Tuesday, for final arrangements re the star me
and Laylah have promised to cut on her with a heated blade.  I
didn't know wjr, since he doesn't post, but I'm pleasantly
surprised by him - an extremely sweet and attractive man, though a
very shy one. STella, of course, is as charming a conversationalist
as she is a writer - though I admit she loses me a bit during a
tirade about Michigan geography (seems "Willow Run" IS an actual
airport - I thought it sprang from Will's fantasy!).

   But the focus of my attention is all on Josh.  From our past
correspondence, and the single photograph which he had recently
sent to me and Laylah, I knew about many of his striking features
- the various piercings adorning his head, the pattern-baldness
spot on its top and the long horsetail of hair behind, that
incredible, breathtaking intenseness that not only makes him rather
quiet, but even manages to make me lose my own wordiness and just
want to stare into his eyes, stroke his hair, and mash his lips
with mine - but I am struck by surprise by the sheer mass of
rock-hard muscles that is his body... [and he _claims_ he doesn't
exercise?!  I thought it took steroids to get THAT much of a
look...!].

   Now you all know I'm rather eclectic in taste, and have nothing
at all against either curvaceous or skinny people (which are the
ways both I and Laylah tend to be, as opposed to masses of muscle),
but let me assure you that, _on Josh_, at least, those muscles are
absolutely fascinating - the thought of either seeing them writhe
under my whip, or having them power a whip towards my flesh, was
simply driving me  crazy...

   I weigh up my own status wrt those muscles for just an instant
and decide I don't have enough energy, either physical or mental,
to do them justice as a top - on the other hand, feeling almost
numb with tiredness, I think that, as a bottom, I could take all
they would dish out. So, with my typical indirectness and subtlety,
I approach Josh, start stroking said muscles with my fingertips,
catch his eyes and hold them in the most languid stare ever,
hinting, "What wonderfully strong arms you have, Josh... care to
give me a good workout with them?".

   Subtle indirection works, apparently - soon I am naked, kneeling
over a low stool, Josh towering naked over me with a mean-looking
flogger in his hands, Cassandra on a nearby settee and Laylah
huddling at her feet as interested spectators... I soon stop
noticing anything but what *he* is doing to me, so I'm not sure if
anybody else witnesses the scene [a few days later STella does
mention the problems she had in passing us by to reach the backyard
door for a smoke, though]. 

   Fortunately I have Laylah's report to inform me of what I missed
- since this is partly reconstruction based on what she later told
me, I think I'll switch to using the past tense, if you don't mind.
Josh, she says, was moving as in a ritual dance ("Shiva's Dance"
were her exact words, but then, she IS an Indian Studies major...)
[eight days later I saw Josh flogging Roy during the party at
STella's and wjr's house - Roy posted about it - so I have an idea
of what that means].  I was just offering my thighs, buttocks, back
and shoulders to the very regular and rhythmic strokes, taking deep
breaths (sometimes VERY deep ones...) synchronized to the same
beat, and enjoying the mounting strength and depth of the whipping,
but she claims the overall effect was as if we all were dancing
together, Josh, the whip, and I...

   In any case, it WAS a splendid whipping.  After a reasonably
lengthy buildup, when peaks of whipping fury were reached, some
strokes felt unbearably fiery, some just as unbearably icy, as they
bit my flesh - the mark of an excellent, heavy whipping, of a
special kind of whip, and of exquisite technique on the part of the
whipper...

   While from a purely physical point of view the back itself is
where I prefer to be flogged with a heavy cat, and the buttocks are
always very special for their sexy connection to spanking, overall
I'd say it was the strokes on my shoulders that were particularly
delightful to me, possibly because of a coincidence - I do not
think Josh had this in mind (but perhaps he HAS practiced zazen
somewhere along his Path?), but when he laid the whip gently on the
muscles of my right shoulder, say, it brought me right back to the
zendo, as if that whip was instead my teacher's kyosaku stick, as
if I were in half-lotus instead of bent naked over the low stool,
and quite spontaneously I inclined my head over to the left
shoulder, getting it out of the way and offering my right shoulder
to the beating, and just as spontaneously my hands and arms formed
gasho, inviting the blow, and when that landed my head bowed
forwards, blessing and cherishing it...

   There were lots of differences as well, of course - thinking
back to it I'm surprised I didn't lose balance, for example,
particularly as, differently from zazen practice, it wasn't a
single blow coming, but a progressively more and more intense
sequence of strokes, so my head was actually moving rhythmically
between the leftward inclination and the forward bow; Laylah, who
I don't think has ever entered a zendo, tells me that from her
point of view this looked like the most "coreographed" part of the
"dance"!  But possibly the most crucial difference was that these
weren't blows I had asked for to clear a drowsy or feverish mind -
any traces of drowsiness had evaporated very fast, my mind being
left perfectly clear and defocused, so I was able to fully
perceive, accept, and appreciate, each stroke and its sensory
consequences - fiery blast or icy chill, deep or shallow wave of
pain, growing ache overcoming the beaten zone, occasional flashes
of sensual pleasure...

   I heard progressively more deep, throaty and threatening growls
coming from Josh, as he let his animal spirit possess himself (some
sort of big cat - a lynx, I'd guess) - and moans and rumbles of
pleasure answering them, from me I imagine, although I wasn't aware
of being making any noise.  At some climax he threw his whip down
and threw himself upon me, assaulting my deeply bruised back with
claws and fangs.  I was a quite willing sacrificial lamb to this
overpowering carnivore, rubbing myself against him, offering myself
wide open to any fate he might have in mind for me... it was quite
lucky (though NOT, of course, by happenstance!) that we had careful
spotters in Cassandra and Laylah [careful spotters are VERY
strongly recommended for any scene of such unbridled intensity!!!];
it was Cassandra, I think, who reined in his primal fury, prompting
the assault to mellow into an embrace, gradually channeling the
unchained energy into a strongly erotic but fully safe "wind-down". 
Even as it was, I was left with scabs on my back from the play of
his nails on my fresh whipmarks...

   I was quite spent after this on top of the trip's exhaustion,
but Josh was still brimming with hardly contained energy - and
Cassandra found an interestingly productive outlet for it by asking
him, still more than half possessed by the Lynx, to attend to
Laylah's inner right thigh.  I dutifully took over the spotter
role... not that Cassandra herself wasn't up to it, but she was
also occupied with her fingers in Laylah's hair and on her throat,
and I know Laylah's body very well, of course, and four eyes are
better than two in any case - so I took Laylah's hand in mine to
help sustain her through this ordeal, and watched carefully. 
Josh's claws and jaws were terribly powerful, and Laylah was soon
screaming her throat out - but I did manage to call for a slowdown
just before her skin was broken and blood shed.  She still carries
very deep marks from that scene even today, more than two weeks
later...

   Back to narrative present.  Both I and Laylah are rather in a
daze after all this, although it is still quite some time before we
leave the party, as Josh and Cassandra still have several
interactions pending with other party attendees.  At last we do
greet everybody and leave, driving back to the airport (midway
between the suburb where the party was held, and our hotel in
midtown), where Josh had left his sporster - he gets into it,
greets us all, and drives home by himself. Cassandra doesn't much
relish the idea of driving at night, so, although I hate driving,
I offer to do it myself.  Her manual-transmission Subaru  is very
easy to drive anyway, and the road from the airport to midtown is
simple and by now (about midnight) not all that trafficked.  Laylah
at once gets asleep in the back seat, occasionally moaning with
pain in her sleep (her right thigh is *very* badly marked...).

   Getting to our hotel, we bid Cassandra good night - we'll meet
her again tomorrow in the late afternoon, and go for some
toy-shopping at Stormy Leather, which is not far from our hotel -
and get up to our room.  There we find voicemail messages from Onyx
and Gus, our e-mail friends who have driven down from Portland,
Oregon to spend a few days with us, but it's a bit too late to call
them back - we'll call them early tomorrow morning and meet for
breakfast.

   So we finally slip into a very deep and restful sleep at the
conclusion of this fascinating but very full day.  We're both
rather tired and sore, and battered both physically and with the
surfeit of new things and people met and interacted with... but I
have an inkling that we'll rather get used to this during this
trip!

    Alex