~ARCHIVE: sf-trip-10.Z
~Subject: Alex and Laylah's trip to SF - part 10 (March 19)

    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 might flame you
back...:-)

   I tried to remember to get permission from everybody we met to
mention them identifiably 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!

   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! In any post there may be references to the previous
ones in the series, which have appeared in a.s.b over the last few
months; mail me if you need copies of any of them (or of any of
Laylah's four ones on the same trip).

    Fri, Mar 19

    The alarm clock keeps ringing, and I hear it but I can't summon
the strength to get up, or even to raise an arm and push the button
to silence the bedraggled thing.  SLEEP, dammit!, I need SLEEP... 
is the only half-thought that can begin to form in my brain.

   Slowly my mind drifts back to an almost-waking state, slowly it
acknowdledges the noise for what it is, slowly and reluctantly it
accepts that I *will* have to get up - this is the last day of
Uniforum, I still have work to do...

   Zombie-like I creep out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom,
where I start to shave.  With more, though shallower, cuts, and
maybe more blood shed, than in the heaviest knife-scene, since I
can hardly keep my eyes open or my hand steady...!

   Why ever am I *SO* beat-up...?  I can generally make do with
little sleep and still be, mostly, fresh as a rose.  Oh, yeah, I
remember.

   I've barely had a couple of hours of sleep tonight - and not
because of some happy-making sex or play, either, but because of an
incredibly prolonged spat with Laylah which has led us to debate
just about every aspect of polyamory in general, and our own
relationship in particular. So I have this weight on my heart - no
matter that I know the problems will go away eventually - in
addition to the lack of sleep, plus the fatigue from these days of
work and the further fatigue for the frequent and intense play... 
hmmm, it's becoming less strange to me that I feel floored!

   I try a cold shower to shake myself up, then go check on Laylah
while I dress rapidly.  Her sleep is troubled, though deep.  On
impulse I feel her forehead for temperature - yes, she's hot, a bad
fever.  I don't know for sure, of course, but I suspect this
accounts for yesterday night...  anyway, so much for my hope to
have her at lunch with M and D, my Italian friends!

   I don't think I can do anything for her except let her sleep and
hope this will help things.  I leave her a written note reminding
her of the number she can call to reach me at the conference, but
I suspect she'll sleep right up to the time Cassandra gets here in
the early afternoon; she really needs 8+ hours of sleep even when
in perfect health, and she clearly isn't now.

   I'm ALMOST awake by now, and try to complete the process by
going down to the posh hotel's restaurant and gorging on sugar-rich
stuff - I *need* the energy - and gallons of scalding black coffee. 
It does help a bit, but I'm still walking in a rather wobbly way as
I make my way from the hotel to Moscone Center.

   So, for the first and only time this trip, my morning of work at
the conference proves rather unproductive, as I stare bleary-eyed
at the slides the various speakers project, and try to make sense
of things without notable success.  A further couple of coffees
during the morning help me keep my eyes open, but that's about it.

   Fortunately I have that lunch meeting with D, my vanilla but
"simpatico" Italian friend who's here for the commercial part of
the fair, and M, his nice new girlfriend and business manager who
got so enthusiastical yesterday at my talk about tattoos and other
body-marks... the prospect cheers me up.

   When we meet, D and M also look rather upbeat, and D positively
overflows with good cheer as he starts explaining how well things
have been going for their firm at the fair.  M's own enthusiasm
appears to stem from another source, though, as she soon interrupts
her beau to ask rather eagerly about Laylah's new tattoo - has she
managed to have it performed, how did it go, can I describe it...?

   D's brow rapidly darkens at this, and he suggests we talk of
that later, as we're going to lunch and it might spoil his
appetite...(?). "Besides", he adds, "we shouldn't make poor Alex
speak so much, M, look how incredibly tired he is!".  Which prompts
me to say, in explanation, "Well, yes, I was up very late last
night, talking with Laylah and lots of local friends...  Laylah's
still sleeping it off, which is why she can't be here".

   This is just about the truth, of course, since both the 'munch
and our later discussion were indeed just talk - but the "talking"
is apparently taken to be a diplomatic euphemism for something
else, since D's scowl deepens, while M looks like she can hardly
contain her curiosity!

   Questions keep bubbling up from her all during lunch, so D
eventually gives up his attempts and lets me start to answer them. 
He does, however, excuse himself rather abruptly right before
dessert, maybe because just about then I'm starting to explain
about those "other marks" around which Eddie Deutsche has tattooed
his simple but fascinating red line on Laylah's flank...

   "Well, I'd better go back to manning the stand", he says as he
rises, "and, M, you're needed too, remember, so please come back
soon - you won't want coffee anyway, American coffee's little more
than dirty hot water...".  I earn the worst stare yet from him as
I explain that San Francisco espresso is actually quite potable,
even by our exhalted Italian standards...  but he doesn't want to
stay and check my assertion, apparently.  Oh well, that's at least
one perversion I CAN introduce M to today!-).

   Although, judging from the way her eyes keep glittering more and
more, and her breath becomes somewhat ragged, as I proceed with my
explanations, I might not have that much trouble to entice her to
taste of others...

   I catch myself short on this silly thread of thought by
reminding myself of quite a large slew of sobering facts: D's a
good friend, and I have no reason to think they're poly or have an
open arrangement; I always insist on in-depth, long term
relationships, while I've only met this beguiling woman yesterday
for the first time; D's waiting for her to be back soon; I'm really
VERY tired, no matter that a rush of short-term energy is coursing
through my veins; just about the only place I could take her is the
room where Laylah's asleep, and that might not be wise considering
our recent discussions...

   Any one of these facts, and there are many more, should be
really enough to dismiss these stupid thoughts...  yet, probably
just because I'm still very full of sleep and can't think clearly,
I keep feeling some temptation to make advances (or maybe it's a
sort of hypnosis from those green eyes, as large and deep as lakes,
staring right into mine...?), until fortunately the clincher comes
to mind - she lives barely a couple hours drive from Bologna,
there's sure to be more suitable occasions in the near future,
preferably with Laylah around and in good health and cheer.

   So, in the end, a San Francisco espresso is the only perversion
that is actually tasted right then...  though I must say that if M
enjoys other kinds as much as this one, she'll *really* be as
interesting a person to spend time with, as my intuition kept
suggesting!-)

   We walk back to Moscone Center, exchange business cards -
already the magic of a new acquaintance is fading back into the
other, not lesser but different one, of computers and work.  I
leave her at the entrance of the large hall where the fair itself
is held, and we part with one last friendly "Ciao!" and a promise
to get in touch.

   This short and innocent episode has recharged all of my
batteries... the afternoon is very different from the way the
morning was, and more similar to the previous working days (and to
my normal ones back home), full of zest and energy and interest. 
The conference ends early today, to help people who want to travel
back home, so it's still quite early when I leave Moscone Center
for the short walk back to the hotel, for the last time.

   I arrive at the hotel and get up to our room.  Cassandra is
there, but looks worried: Laylah is not well at all.  "She doesn't
have a fever any more", Cassandra informs me, "but I don't think
she should go outside anyway".  "Shall we take her to a doctor?",
I wonder aloud.  Laylah, who is in bed, protests that she feels
fine and just wants to go to meet Onyx and Gus as we were agreed -
"They may be leaving early tomorrow", she points out, "it could be
our last chance to greet them...".

   In the end I and Cassandra relent - we're not quite convinced,
but after all Laylah should know enough about how she herself does
feel, and have common sense enough, to be able to decide on this.
I also very much want to meet my beloved Onyx!  We do put a limit
though - Laylah won't be playing tonight.  Most likely she's just
very tired, but, even in this case, what she badly needs is some
rest, not more play...

   It's a wonderful afternoon, sunny and warm, and the "Owl and
Monkey" is close to Golden Gate park, so we decide to go there at
once, and spend some time in the park until the hour we had agreed
for meeting Onyx and Gus.  At first, the fresh air and sunlight
seem to revive Laylah, so, cautiously, I approach the subject of
our spat of yesterday again - Cassandra is very experienced and
wise, and I'm sure that, if she feels moved to give advice, both I
and Laylah will learn much by listening.  Besides, Laylah might be
willing to listen to her even if she should still feel problems
about me.

   I need not have worried: Laylah now feels that everything she
had said to me last night were fever-prompted rants... indeed the
main problem is to cheer her up, to dissipate her sense of guilt
("at stealing my precious sleep-time", she says, poor darling), and
to recover whatever actual problems there might really have been
behind the way she felt last night.  Cassandra helps a lot on all
these scores, of course.

   In the end we do manage to cheer Laylah up, but this bout of
discussion has dissipated all the short-term energy that the park
had just given her; she's physically in the pits again, although
serene and happy.  She does insist that no, she does not want us to
drive her back to the hotel right now, much less to a doctor... but
she doesn't look like she's fit for walking all the way to the
cafe, so we get once again into Cassandra's car, drive the short
distance, and start looking for parking space.

   The latter problem proves harder than anticipated (so what else
is new?), so we're a bit late in getting to the Owl and Monkey. 
Onyx and Gus are waiting patiently and in good cheer, although
they're saddened to see that Laylah isn't well, and even more that
this means we really cannot spend this last night together - Laylah
will have to sleep early, I'll need to be there at her side in case
there's any problem, and we can't risk disturbing her with noise.
Sigh.

   They really do have to leave tomorrow, since it's a very long
drive back home for them, and Gus will have to be working on
Monday, and needs some rest before that.  For a short while they
even entertain the thought of spending two or three hours at the
party at STella's and wjr's house tomorrow night, then drive all
night...  but it really wouldn't be sensible.  Eventually we agree
to meet, late tomorrow morning, at the Cliff House, after which
they'll take us to Josh's house, which is quite near there and is
where we'll be sleeping for the next few nights, and they'll be on
their way home.

   Dinner is delicious (the raspberry rings at the O & M are really
worth the trip to SF...:-), and, apart from Laylah's illness, so is
the general "atmosphere"; Cassandra and Onyx and Gus had not
interacted much yet, but they seem to like each other now.  Gus and
Onyx have also invited a friend of theirs, a very nice young woman
with no BDSM experience but quite curious and interested about it,
and the task of narrating and explaining things to her makes for a
very interesting conversation.  Not that any conversation with Onyx
(and Gus, on the rare occasions he feels moved to break his
habitual silence) could ever fail to be interesting, actually!

   Pity that we must part so soon - but we must.  Cassandra drives
me and Laylah back to the hotel; we tuck Laylah into bed, and at
once she falls deeply asleep.  It's at once clear that she's
sleeping very soundly, and, from my knowledge of her, I suggest
that she'll just sleep for some incredibly long time, then wake up
perfectly healthy, happy and refreshed.  Cassandra seems doubtful,
and would like to stay here, in order to keep a car at hand should
any emergency arise; however, she also needs her sleep, and she
often has trouble sleeping in a strange bed, so reluctantly she
agrees she'll have to go home eventually; but she still wants to
linger here a bit, just in case.

   So we simply lay still on the carpet, just quietly staring at
each other... it's not something people do often, but it should be!
It's a way to renew a sort of link that is often neglected, one
beyond words, thought, sex, play, or even touching.  It seems
incredible to me now, as this link blossoms once more between me
and this woman, that we can have been so close for so many days,
and almost forgotten how much we love each other, how much we mean
for each other, distracted by even stronger, more burning loves,
hers for Laylah, mine for Onyx... now our eyes caress each other's,
and wordlessly promise that, in the next few days, before I and
Laylah have to go back to Italy, we shall remember that, and we
shall do something about it.

   After a while, when it's apparent that Laylah's sleep is not the
shallow, troubled one of illness, but a very sound and hard to
interrupt one, Cassandra whispers, almost voicelessly, "Do you
think we could talk, if we keep it very very quiet?".  I answer in
the same tone, "Yes, I'm sure it won't disturb her".

   And so we talk, always in the same fashion.  There are so many
things in a person's life, ones which don't seem all that important
in one context or another - when writing to a.s.b, say, or when
exchanging hot, flirting e-mail; and yet when you realy fall in
love with that person, suddenly each smallest such detail is
something you yearn to know... and this is the effect which this
long shared silence has had on us both.

   So we talk about our professional histories in detail, what each
of us has done, is doing, plans to do; about the houses we have
lived in, and where we expect to live in the near future; our
tastes in furniture, books, music, movies, food, beverages...; how
much, and how, each of us loves Laylah, and how splendid she is and
how irreplaceable - she IS, after all, the strongest bond between
us two, no matter how deep and wonderful all the others are.

   It's not yet late when Cassandra decides she'd better go home,
but I feel filled with a sweet sleepiness, so I'm quite agreeable
to parting now, despite the fact that the conversation was so
engrossing. She checks Laylah one last time; our wonderful lovable
Laylah is still very deep in peaceful slumber.  We part with a
kiss. She'll be here to pick us up tomorrow in mid morning, as we
have to check out of the hotel and get our suitcases to Josh's
house before we meet Onyx and Gus.

   I get into bed myself, with half an idea to read a little since
it's early yet, but as soon as my head hits the pillow I realize I
also have much sleep to recover, so I turn off the light at once,
and I also instantly slip into deep and restful sleep.

    Alex