From Sense and Sensuality:
Rosemarie: We have fictional characters we play. He's a American wartime journalist in Berlin and I'm an American call girl who ran away from home at fourteen with aspirations of a more edifying life in Europe, and we're drinking buddies and best friends.
Roy Kay: I was chatting with a woman who was seriously thinking about being a labor organizer. I musingly teased that that would be an interesting scene, since I'd fit the role of "Capitalist Exploiter". It's a good thing she's into piercings, because that would provide a use for my diamond stickpin.
It doesn't have to be obviously glamorous, does it?
What about a numbers-cruncher who works for a big accounting firm--a small, colorless man who tends to blend in the background in office parties (he's painfully shy), doesn't seem to have a girlfriend, and goes home alone to his pet dog?
At home (a studio apartment) he's reasonably neat, likes to read food magazines, cut out simple recipes, and try them out. Watches very little TV (no cable), on weekends takes walks outside, just wandering the city by himself, either by bus or subway or on foot, sometimes to parks, sometimes to little quiet corners he finds hidden away in the city, where he can sit down with a sandwich and a soda he fixed up to eat.
He has a secret: he plays the violin. Pretty good, not concert-hall league, but he can play. Doesn't like the classics, but he can do folk songs, pop, and he even composes. One short little melody he once did is actually touching. He dreams of playing it to some girl someday.
Sexually--not much experience. He's had some girlfriends, here, there, sometimes for years, but it isn't so much that there's something wrong with him or them, it's just that there were no sparks. He's still friends with all his formers.
He has one friend, an old man in a retirement home, was a friend of his father's; he goes there on weekends to play chess with him.
Sounds dull? Or interesting? What d'ye think?
amiable: Too much work.
I just like to fuck.
sparky: oh, my.
Roy Kay: Not sure where the plot is headed, Noel, so I can't much essay a judgment. Could we have a little more?
Uh, I DO approve of where Amie's plot is headed, though. More. More! MORE!
He's arrested under suspicion of being a terrorist (computer glitch plus he looks vaguely Arabic), tortured, injected with a modified virus under a genetic engineering program, grows a second schlong beneath his first, escapes to India where he learns from a yoga master the deepest secrets of the Kama Sutra, and now rangers through America fucking male and female rightwing conservatives alike in both orifices at once, converting them to liberalism with his mindbending sexual techniques as the darkly sensual terrorist known as "W."
Roy Kay: Well, it sounds all in a good cause - especially in Ann Coulter's case.
Rosmarie: Well, that plotline certainly took a turn, Noel!
Could hear the snoring from the balcony, is why.
I actually rather liked your initial premise, for a short story or something. It didn't exactly get my sexual juices flowing, but it was a nice vignette.
I tried on my little Dom Hat yesterday...still finding my footing, as it's not my usual inclination. Basically, I had him wash me in the shower but wouldn't let him touch me for his own pleasure. If he started looking too smitten or dreamy, I'd get very stern and detached and make him take his hands off. It was quite enjoyable. I felt slightly awkwardly bossy in moments, but he seemed to like it in the context.
You remember to tell him to scrub behind his ears?
Among other things, yes.
Clean ears are important. Among other things, of course.
But don't let me catch you appearing to enjoy those ears or you'll get a smack! Stick tostrictly business, please!