Recurring Lessons

Friday night, I had plans to do a photoshoot for someone.

She showed up, late as usual, and then began to set up her pole.

I asked her about what shots she envisioned and she said, “Shoot? I didn’t really think I’d be modeling, and definitely not on the pole! I thought we would play, I brought an open mind.”

Okay… so the role I was to play just went out the window. I’m left feeling anxious and confused. What the fuck are you doing at my house?

So, I help her when she needs, and I change into something I can play on her pole with.

We dance and mess around with different tricks while H shoots. (She has known him for a single shoot - and me for two).

He asks her to give me a lap dance, shooting that.

Then he suggests we switch. I oblige.

At this point, I have to lie down because I am shaky and feeling ill. I haven’t eaten enough and I am dealing with low blood sugar.

I eat something that’s delivered and slowly begin to feel better. The room stops spinning and I am no longer afraid to stand, but I still feel unwell.

I tell them I am just about done for the night - I have two jobs to work tomorrow, and then I have to be present and active for the kids. I have excruciatingly limited time with my daughter and I want to be at my best for her.

H goes into the bedroom and comes out wearing only a pair of unbuttoned pants and no underwear and no shirt.

He asks me to give him a lapdance so he can shoot POV.

I oblige. She begins to dance on his other leg, and she is naked at this point. She begins to stroke his cock and rub her breasts in his face, putting her nipples into his mouth.

I get up, I tell them I am going to go get ready for bed and brush my teeth.

He whispers to me, “Do you want us to wrap this up?”

I said yes.

I come out from the bathroom, and she is sucking his dick in the kitchen.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t want this to come back on me as a photographer, come back on him as a photographer, we forced her to do anything.

I just freeze and shut down. They fool around, I’m watching.

I go sit on the bed when he says he wants to lay down, and she lays next to him.

He tries to get me to lay next to him but I refuse.

She begins to stroke him again, he gets hard, he starts to fuck her.

I’m trying to quell a panic attack.

I’m chiding myself for being borderline, trying to keep calm about what’s going on.

It’s now past midnight. Almost one in the morning.

I’m holding her hand, fading back and forth between appreciating her for sharing herself with him and trying to remain evasive of my own feelings. Inner turmoil.

HE FUCKING COMES INSIDE OF HER.

I am shaken - in this moment, he has lost me. I’m no longer looking at my partner, but at a man I let in too close who didn’t deserve me. He doesn’t deserve to know me intimately. I really made a mistake this time.

He asks me, “How are you?” I tell him I’m not feeling well, but I’m going to refrain from thinking about it at all because I am overly tired and cannot formulate proper thoughts. We can talk in the morning.

He asks me if I took my seroquel, I said, “no, I’m not going to. I have to be up in a few hours and it will sedate me too deeply to be able to take it now. I also can’t be on stage falling asleep tomorrow.”

I also forewarned him, “I’m going to be really sensitive the next few days because of missing a dose.”

I cry on stage at the Palette. I cry in the car. I cry at random.

We talk about it when I get home. I ask him to think about asking someone from now on if it’s okay to cum inside of them - he said “I did ask her!” (He must have whispered it in her ear when he was buried inside of her - I was right there, trying not to be angry as he pounded into her).

“Did you even think to ask ME how I FELT?!” I cry out, angry to my toes.

“Well, no, I guess I didn’t.”

He makes no further statement and I don’t either.

I begin to disassociate. I’m enacting walls to keep my peace of mind.

Yesterday, he was going through the photos and videos. He pauses on one of her where her body looks so goddamned good in that red light. I am reminded of a piece of conversation we had a week ago where I told him I wanted to lose some weight and he asked why. “I know you’re at the gym, working out around all the fit girls.” (I know know his mind works - he is turned on by them).

“I have to keep your interest!” (I want to lose weight for me, but I have a way of making my innermost desires into something of dark humor).

He says, “well if you were doing it for me, you’d actually go the other way. I prefer women thicker than skinny.”

Snap back to the moment - I ask, timidly, “Do you like her body shape better than mine?”

He asks, “What?”

I ask again, then add, “Are you going to leave me for her?”

He shoots at me, “THIS IS WHY I DIDN’T WANT TO GO HERE! I didn’t want to have to deal with this!”

I leave the room and think about the implications of this. I am shaking, angry, beyond calming down.

I come back out and I let him have it.

“When you tell me you don’t want to go there, you don’t want to engage with me when I’m like this, it tells me you don’t care to offer me the comfort and reassurance that I need, so FUCK YOU. I didn’t ask for this, YOU DROVE IT… ALL NIGHT!” Out peeks that deadly voice that comes from within when I’m looking to maim. I continue, “I told you I wanted you to wrap things up, and I come out to see your dick in her mouth. WHAT THE FUCK about what I said, made you think ‘she should blow me!?’”

I left. I gathered my children and I left.

I didn’t come back until I had someone outside to come in with me.

My latest task is to keep calm and stay awake, not letting myself shoulder the blame. I know that I didn’t ask for this, it wasn’t what I wanted from the start.

In my view, we are no longer partners. He didn’t honor my needs, my body.

I don’t just sleep with anyone, and certainly not with someone without first discussing sexual health and birth control.

It’s a lot, admittedly, to take in. Thank you for reading it all. For listening. For offering support.