the mole and the mud

today i had "minor surgery", as the doc called it. Just a mole that one day decided he wanted to be something else and started a journey of self transformation. Because everybody i know seems to get cancer (not in my age group but left and right in my family and the families of my friends) i thought i'd part ways with my growing mole and let him continue his process of mutation somewhere else.

Today is also the day i got contacted for the 3rd time by someone whose profile i have read online many times. Over and over. He's the sort of person, or the sort of profile, i should say, since i don't know him, that usually gets me to think i should make the move across the ocean. The sort of person, though, that i wouldn't normally have contacted. Out of fear, awe, respect. i can't find the right word. In his profile he comes across as a very strong-willed, no-bullshit sort of person. The sort of person that i wouldn't disturbe with a message. Someone you don't bother for a chat but who makes you stand at attention if he decides to contact you.

His past messages were to ask if i was ever in NYC, where he lives, but this time he's here in London. i had fantasised before about a possible visit of his to London and being offered the possibility to serve him in his hotel room. Only he doesn't want me to serve him in his hotel room. He wants to mess me up in the Heath.

i don't normally do one-offs. i'm the sort of slave who craves the protection and security of having a man in charge of me. Not really the sort of slave who goes off to meet some random guy in a park tonight and someone else tomorrow. That sort of approach requires much more mental independence than i have. But if a man like that calls me i have to go and serve him and try to please him. i don't know why. i just feel that i have to. i don't just need to suck a cock, any cock. Alright, i might have got into one of those moods once or twice but normally, if i'm trying to serve a man, i want him to ultimately feel pleased, to know that i'll work around what he likes so that he is satisfied in the end and will feel that the time he's spent on me was worth it. i want him to know that it's important for me that he feel satisfied with the way he's being served. I realise it might sound a bit unsexy to put it in those terms but this is, i think, the root (or near the root) of my desire to serve. That's why i don't like being asked "do you like this?" while i'm serving somebody. It gets me all confused. I don't know anymore what i'm doing and why i'm doing it.

i am currently actually on hold until sunday when i'm due to meet a Master who'll assess me and decide whether he wishes to have me as his slave. This week i've declined offers from other dominant men who wanted to offer me the chance to serve them because, as i've mentioned before, i don't like to juggle. if i've agreed to meet a master i don't want to call and say, sorry but this other master came up so i'm not available anymore. i must say this approach doesn't usually pay off because at times you end up waiting for ever and often you never meet the person who claimed to want to meet you. So i'm getting in the habit of predetermining the shelf-life of my premature devotion. But i do still wait.

In this case, though, it's different. he's an out-of-towner and i'm not auditioning to be his slave, just serving someone who wants to be served. But of course he messaged me 10 mins before i was due to go for my minor surgery and i suspect that rolling in the mud in Hampstead Heath is not what the doc had in mind when he said i should keep the wound clean and dry.

So any encounter is delayed by a couple of days and takes us to saturday, just before my audition. It annoys me that the mole and the mud had to come at the same time. But if the mud is not yet here, the mole is gone now. The last time i saw him, he was swimming in some clear solution on his way to a testing lab. He was looking kind of lost without me. Oh, also kind of gross