Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I’m really very proud of what I have achieved, professionally, and I would never want to give it up. But sometimes it’s interesting to play with someone without the “Mistress Matisse” backstory and reputation. And I have one person I see professionally who shows me what that's like. You see, he doesn’t know I’m Mistress Matisse.

I’m serious. He does not know. He knows me by another name. How is that possible? Well, it happened like this: my best friend Miss K used to be an escort, and she had some nice regular clients. Occasionally one of them would evince interest in something more kinky, and she’d call me in for a guest appearance.

Those little 3-way rendezvous always went just fine – we were a good team, Miss K and I. But she always introduced me by another name, because a lot of her guys displayed nervousness when she floated the idea of bringing in “a pro domme”. Oh, no thank you, that would be too much, they’d say. They weren’t that kinky. But when Miss K said something like “I have a girlfriend who has a flogger and a strap-on” – or whatever the appropriate thing was - the answer was: “Sure, love to meet her!”

And it turned out that some of them were that kinky. How nice. So I had some repeat appearances, and then a couple of years ago, when Miss K decided she was done being a sex worker, she bequeathed two of her favorite guys to me entirely.

One of them – who is a charming and delightful man – either figured out who I was or I told him, I don’t recall which. And it was totally fine, of course.

But the other man has just never tumbled to it. We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of years now, about once a month. We have some tastes in common, and he’s very sweet and nice to chat with, and that’s all fine.

For a while I thought "Oh, he's going to figure it out. He'll find my blog, or the MistressMatisse.com site, or something. He'll show up and say, 'Hey, aren't you...?' And we'll laugh about it."

But time went by, and he didn't. I used to make little remarks that would serve as segueways to that conversation. He didn't respond to them. Man, he really doesn't know. For awhile, I almost felt bad for not telling him. (Isn't that a switch!) But good lord, how would I even start that conversation? What if his feelings are really hurt? It’s by no means an intense relationship, but it’s a perfectly happy little arrangement – I’d hate to jeopardize it.

So I don’t. Maybe he’ll find out one day, or maybe not. Meanwhile, I’m just going to enjoy the novelty of being a mystery woman to him.

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