So, I felt relaxed yesterday because I turned in my big article to the Stranger. This was not the regular column, this was a special piece I got assigned, and I’m sort of terrified that it’ll suck. But I hope it doesn’t. It’s way longer than anything I’ve written for the Stranger before. So I was definitely sweating over it some. It’ll be out in next week’s paper, and naturally I’ll link to it.

Meanwhile, many other lovely things are happening for me, which is charming. Armani took me out to dinner last night at a place called Mistral. We don’t go out a lot, so we call this our annual holiday dinner. I've been looking forward to it.

Now, Armani is a person who knows about good food and wine. Me? I call out for pizza a lot. But hey, I’m game to try new stuff. Mistral serves “European haute cuisine” and is apparently often called Seattle’s best restaurant. It’s a small place, like 12 tables, and there is no menu. The chef cooks whatever he feels like making, and the server bring it to you, and you eat it. It’s an eight course meal, although each course is very small.

I have to say that this is a strange concept to me, but, Armani knows his food, so I got dressed up in one of the D&G dresses he bought me and downtown we went. It seemed that there had been a large party booked at Mistral who had then backed out, so last night, Armani and I were the only people there. That was a little odd at first, but it actually wound up being sort of fun, like having our own private chef and dining room. (We were slightly naughty when we were alone in the room, I admit it. I think the server caught us once when she came back unexpectedly. Whoops. I’m sure Armani left her a good tip.)

What did we eat? Oh, I’m bad at this. The server described them all in loving detail, I was impressed with her ability to retain and repeat all the various information from each dish. I'm definitely not going to be able to do that. But there was some sautéed shrimp, and then a seared tuna sort of thing, and some kind of creamy-buttery soup with a scallop in it, and then another fish course. I don’t remember the name of the second fish, I hadn’t heard of it before, although it was a white fish, and the server said it was in the perch family? Then a course where he had foie gras and I had a red risotto, then lamb, then a cheese course, and then sorbets, and then dessert, being an almond cake-lette with ice cream and raspberries. As you may well imagine, we were quite sated at the end.

What did I think of the European haute cuisine experience? Well, the food was very nice, and so was the wine, and the service was excellent. The leisurely pace of the meal suited us, since we had lots to talk about. Not something I’d do every night, but in a dinner-as-performance sort of way, delightful.

Also delightful? The very gorgeous bracelet Armani gave me for Christmas. He really, really spoils me. (The Tiffany website won’t let me right-click and steal the picture to post, so if you want to see it, this is the link to the Tiffany site.)

Some of my guys are sweet enough to bring me gifts, and it’s a wonderful and meaningful gesture whether it’s home-grown tomatoes, pretty lingerie, or a diamond bracelet. But it's really about the relationship. I love the presents Armani gives me, but I also love that I can call him when I have an emergency that he can fix, and poof, he takes care of it. I really value someone who steps up and helps me when I need it, and he does. Over dinner, Armani and I talked about how we have known each other for more than ten years. We have a very special relationship, and last night, we drank to another year of good times together.

I’m still working on the Stranger piece, due today… So meanwhile, enjoy this photo from a play session with Jae and a gentleman of our acquaintance, in which I hooked both of them up my Eros-tek box, turned up the two dials at the same pace, and challenged them to make the other one cry mercy first.
I didn’t get a real clear winner, I think it was actually pretty mutual. But it was a lot of fun trying…

EDIT: Oh wait, the new column is up, yay. Okay, now I don't feel guilty for not writing two days in a row.

I’m having a huge dilemma. I am torn between two objects of lust. I can’t have them both – even a poly girl like myself understands that that’s just not reasonable. But they’re both so attractive in different ways that I just don’t know which one to choose. It's the techie girl's lament: Blackberry? Or iPhone?

I have never had a smartphone, you see, but I think the time has come. I had been leaning towards a Blackberry, because I thought an iPhone would be overkill. I mainly want to read and send email and make and take phone calls. I don’t really need music or video stuff, and I doubt I’d do much web surfing. But I am doing more and more of my scheduling via email, so getting it on the fly is becoming an issue.

Then Jet showed me all the voicemail features on his iPhone, and now I'm wavering again. It would be a hassle to change carriers, though. (I use Verizon.)

So tell me a story of your smartphone, dear readers. Tell me all about the joys and sorrows of your romance. I'm listening...

Event recap: The SML fundraiser Friday night at the Cuff went great. I haven’t heard yet how much money we raised for Lambert House, but we were pretty busy all night. But then Monk and I do put on a good show, even if I say so myself.

We got there at eight, when the bar was still relatively quiet. We had some blog readers come up and introduce themselves early in the evening, and get pictures. That was lovely. And of course lots of gay men. I did get to put a little rope on one cute girl, which was charming.

We’d ask each person, “Okay, do you want a naughty photo or a nice one?” and suit the pose accordingly. But as the night went on, we noticed an amusing trend. Folks would come and get one photo taken with us that was relatively tame. Say, sitting on our laps, something like that. Then they’d go away and have a drink or two. And then they’d come back and say, “Now I want a naughtier photo.” Thus, many of our photos from later in the night feature cute boys in their underwear getting their hands tied up and their nipples pinched.

And some of them were indeed feeling their alcohol. Nothing wrong with that, it’s a bar, people are there to have a good time. But there is an art to dealing with folks who are drinking. For some of the time, we had a line of people waiting, so while we wanted to give everybody a good image, we had to move them through fairly expeditiously. That meant taking control of matters in a nice but firm way.

At one point Monk said to me, “Wow, you’re pretty good at kinda pushing these guys into a position and holding them there.”

I rolled my eyes. “Um, hi, I am a dominatrix.”

“True, but your guys don’t come to see you half-lit.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “I’m probably drawing more on tricks I learned as a stripper.” Never let it be said that sex work doesn’t teach you a variety of interpersonal skills.

Everyone had fun, although few people had a bit more than others. Early in the evening, when people were still acting a little shy, Monk said, “Okay, let’s get this party started.” He grabbed a very handsome boy we knew from the crowd and threw him a hot little five-minute scene.

I told him he should get the Mr. Cocktease 2007 Award for that, because he had quite the ring of eager-eyed men watching him. Some of them were staring at the bottom, who is indeed some sweet eye-candy. But a lot of them got in line for photos with Monk. Which just goes to show they have good taste.