The Perfect Beginning

While Tim thought about Michele all the time when not actually with her, Michele took something very different away from it all.  Yes, she thought about Tim, but only fleetingly.  What she gained from this budding relationship was something that could never be taken away.  She enjoyed a supreme confidence which came from within.  And she had no reason to obsess over Tim, she had a life to live.  Besides, she knew where he was: eagerly waiting for her.

****

Dearest Me,

I've been thinking a lot about the whole Bitch question.  What is a bitch and am I one?  

Yes, I am a Bitch.  The more I think about what that word means to me, the more proud I am to be a Bitch.  I like being a Bitch.  It does not mean I am a bad person.  It means I am a woman/girl and I am a leader.  It means I have strong feelings and am confident in my ideas.  It means I share my opinions when I want to.  It means I have some idea of what I like, don't like and how I want to live my life. 

Being a Bitch just means that some others are made to feel uncomfortable by my independence and confidence. She does what she wants; Oh my! And it means I'm not going to live my life the way other people want me to.  I'm not going to follow a boy...or a man.  That's what Kimberlys do.  That's not me, that's Tim.  Tim's a Kimberly.  And I have nothing against Kimberlys.  I'm super, way into one particular Kimberly-boy.  (That's kind of funny.) 

It's just not me.  And to be honest, I can be a little aggressive sometimes (certainly with Tim) and I think that is part of what it means to be a Bitch.  I think that is what a Bitch is.  Everybody hates a Bitch but I think that's just because they are threatened by strong women.  Men try to make it, Bitch, a bad word.  It's just cause they are threatened by us.  Even other Kimberlys don't always like a strong woman.  

What else does it mean to be a Bitch?  Hmmmm, need to think about it.

And I'm NOT being a Bitch because it is what Tim needs.  I'm just being myself.  It's just that Tim happens to need to be with a girl like me.  Tim needs to be with a Bitch.  He needs to bow down to a Bitch.  Mmmmm, liking the sound of that!  Happy!  I suppose his obvious need has helped me to look at who I really am.  I'm very grateful for that!  Sleepy time, night-night

****

Dear Me,

Kimberly.  Kimberlys.  When do they bug?  When am I all in on Kimberly?  There is so much that makes a person wonderful or not so much.  I think though with Kimberlys, it's soooooo much better when they know who they are.  Like own it and assume the position!  Ha-ha!  I don't mean like that.  I mean more like, when you are a Kimberly, it's so much better when they know their place.  Like they need to look up to the adults in the room.  Like, Tim is giving in to it, he's "becoming."  We are making it okay and when he accepts it, and then he's waaaaaaaay more attractive to me.

****

While in Tim's history class: they sat together on her couch and stared meaningfully at one another.  Her face was perfect and she took his breath way.  Looking at one another, they looked into one another.  She knew of all his feelings for her, accepted and approved of them all.  Her approval meant the world to him. He was overcome with a sense of comfort and belonging and the most blessed sense of warmth.  They were together in love.  She took and cared for him. 

She chooses me! 

He floated and she floated with him. 

Oh my god, she's so...!  Together, forever!

*

Dear Diary,

Michele and Tim, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G... smiles 

So, how worthy is Tim?  Cute?  Check!  Obedient?  Check and double check!  Good at house work?  Check!  Good at massage?  Check!  Yeps, he qualifies. 

Doers, do.  I need to push him more.  Tomorrow he has karate after school and then comes over.  I'm going to get all my homework done and when he get's here, I'm gonna kinda make him not do his homework.  I know it will be a little hard for him, but it will be harder to say no to me.  Smiles! 

It all just has to become less play and more real. 

Things are going so well.  I know I can have him.  I feel it all over.  He will be mine.  On some level, he already is.  Happy! 

Back to the Bitch question.  I think too that being a Bitch...at least for me, means telling a man what to do, like making him do things for me.  Making him. What a pretty idea!  I like making Tim work for me.  Gosh, that does have a ring to it.  Happy!  I like making him clean our house.  Mom doesn't know I have a boy doing it, but she sure notices how nice the house looks! 

I like the feeling of having him wait on me.  It makes me happy. And it's natural for us.  That is, me telling him what to do and him doing it.  It's natural and good.  It's right.  Every part of me feels the rightness in this. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm the totally spoiled daughter of a multi-billionaire and I get to choose a cute, young man to boss around and be my personal servant.  For now, at least, this is better because it is not being like I need a rich parent to make it happen.  I'm making it happen myself and not relying on anybody but me.  

I command and he obeys not because of money or anything other than it's just the right and natural thing for us to do with one another.   Like with Tim, I can't even imagine it being any other way. Like it's waaaay too late for it to go back to being like a regular babysitter/girl situation. It's too late for that, I'm very happy to say.

I'm doing it!  I made this.  Just being me.  Smiles.

****

Michele's home became a sacred realm where magic happened.  Things were just different there.  Norms were bent, stretched and reshaped.  As they passed into this hallowed dominion, each was transformed, or rather, each felt a freedom to explore a deeper, intimate and complimentary nature.

Usually they'd get homework out of the away and then the fun began.  Michele began to tire of stories about Tiffany but she still appreciated that they provided her with a pretext for speaking down at Tim and in this, there was only vitality and pleasure.  

She saw it, cutting away at his ego, as a sort of girl-sport... that turned her on spiritually and sexually.  Her giggles and laughter were somehow both calculated for their effect and natural as it was so much fun and made her feel so good.  She got to generate profound emotion for them both; it was so vital and it made her feel more energized than anything she'd ever felt before.  Breaking him down emotionally, experiencing his submission to the indignity fed to him by her cruel and tender and loving hand, made her feel powerful. 

He takes my slap down and then gently licks the back of my hand, like a little doggie. 

And Michele was clear with herself on this point: it aroused her sexually.  

She loved it every time she was right in front of him, almost close enough to kiss and while smiling, she'd say something that slapped his ego right in the balls.  He took it every time and every time he'd look down needing to break eye contact.  She knew he could not maintain eye contact because he was not her equal.  As his eyes looked down in defeat and shame, his cock shot up, if that was, it was not already saluting her.

Until she'd enjoyed the exquisite and wondrous pleasure of toying with Tim's emotions, she had no idea something was missing in her life. 

Before all this, life was mundane and she was only mostly present on a monochrome stage.  Sinking her emotional claws into Tim changed everything: she had greater energy, colors appeared brighter, sounds were crisper and the feeling of another's skin had never felt more arousing.  It reminded her of when Dorris opened the door to OZZ and everything went from black and white to vivid technicolor.  She lived to play with his mind.

It somehow made her feel more alive.  

It almost felt like a drug or some sort of emotional life support as her whole being tingled with sensation and delight.  When she worked on Tim, she felt hyper aware of how she felt, and how it affected Tim emotionally...and physically. 

If he was not hard to begin with, he would be as soon as Michele began condescending to him.  And his response, his submission, his willingness to accept emotional pain and become aroused by it and his consequent obedience, generated this reciprocity of emotion, this vortex of energy that seemed to build and build and...  Yes, it was life giving.  

And always there was the questions in Michele's mind of how far it could go.  She imagined if she did things right, it could go pretty far.  She felt like she was going to get to put the limits on it all, but she had no idea how far she'd want to take it. 

Everything changes so fast!

When homework was finished, they played the Game.  Privately, each thought of it as the Game, yet each also had different names for it; Tim thought of it as, "Michele Says" and "Mother May I," while Michele thought of it as "Princess."  They also both thought of it as children would: they were playing "house."  "Playing house," was important because it was how children explored who they wanted to be in an adult relationship.  As long as it was "play," it was okay to do.  

One of the reasons Tim loved the play so much was because he got to experience vulnerability (not that he was self aware enough to know this).  The game allowed him to strip all pretense and shed all the stress that came with being a cool, over-schooler.  It became an emotional drain to always have his guard up.  He did not even know he was carrying this emotional burden until he was relieved of it.  

It was fun doing what Michele said, but it seemed so much more real when she was snappy and bitchy about how she commanded him.  The sense of it all being real was important to Tim as it allowed him to lose himself more completely in the game.  He loved it because he could make it all real in his mind.  

The realness made it so much more fun because he could experience all the emotions that went with serving a beautiful, sexy and amazing girl.  He enjoyed pretending he was in love with Michele and that they lived together. 

She became more and more beautiful to Tim each day.  And not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well.  The harder she was on him, the more he wanted to be with her, near her. 

And she kept him off balance too, because she could also be sweet and kind to him...which, ironically, he also needed.  It was exciting trying to make her happy and when he messed up, he enjoyed feeling genuine fear and contrition as she reprimanded him.  And he found it was easy to upset, irritate or anger Michele.  He always had to be careful.

Too, there was something tragic about playing house.  As much as he loved it, as much as he craved it, it was also a tease.  It's what he wanted to be real even when he knew it was impossible.

Tim always told himself they were just playing, yet Michele understood so much more.  Though it appeared a game on the surface, Michele quickly established the right to command Tim from the moment he arrived at her house, though she usually waited until after home work was completed to really get in the swing of things.  

Intuitively, she knew that although their game was just a pretense, there were social norms that came into play that Tim was not conscious of or simply chose to ignore in order to reduce his sense of dissonance.  If they never openly identify it as a game and never talk about the "rules" and the behaviors and roles were constant, they would become permanent. 

Michele had observed and noted this in previous social dynamics and knew how powerfully compelling it could be.  Had Tim broken out of "character" on the second night, they'd look back and smile about the time they played their servant game like little kids. 

Of course he did not do this and with each passing day, their roles, their relative status solidified more and more.  After a week of being Michele's servant, who was he to suddenly claim the whole thing was anything but real?  After weeks of her using her razor blades on his ego, how was he to suddenly express anger about it all? 

Had he been accepting real insults from a girl for all that time, while offering nothing but a red face and an erection in return?  When she first called him a girl, when she first laughed at him, when she first called him a crybaby, ass kisser, it was a joke but now it's otherwise? 

Even if it was just a game, he now felt absolutely obligated to play the game.  No, he had to go along with it and did not even know he was in over his head.  Besides, he reasoned, it wasn't so bad.  Besides, he like it even though it hurt. Besides, he loved it.

It all worked in his mind as she knew it would.  They were using the Game to establish their roles and assume their relative status. He felt bound by precedence just as Michele knew he would be.

Viewing it as a game kept it all safe.  In the beginning, they both needed it to be a "game," so that it became emotionally safe enough for Tim to show Michele who he really was, to be vulnerable enough to show that a part of him got off on serving a stronger girl.  And maybe she needed it a little so that she could accept who she really was.  

Initially she kept it to making dinner, cleaning up and rubbing her feet.  Michele wanted to know how far she could push things and sought to add some new little chore each night.  The first night he serviced Princess by rubbing her feet which was divine for each of them.  A few nights later she let him do her feet and her calves.  Next, she added her arms and hands. 

Her favorite were the back rubs.  He worked hard to be good at massage and without training, he was good at it.  After he was servicing all her body that was decent to touch, she added chores around the house.  Doing the dishes was a nightly expectation, a given.   "Be a good boy and clean my room and then I'll let you service me." 

Tim eagerly obeyed.  In fact, Tim so enjoyed playing house, he challenged himself to see just how obedient he could be.  As the weeks went by, he learned how to dust, wash and fold laundry, clean toilets, mop floors, vacuum, clean counters and sinks, change linens on beds and water plants.

****

Dear Diary,

Like totally love the way Tim looks at me!  Sometimes I don't think he even knows he's doing it and I full on know he totally can't help himself.  Oh my god, it is so fun!  It really makes me FEEL my own body in a totally different way.  I love seeing myself through his eyes.  It's weird but it's like I feel so connected to myself when I see the way he looks at me, the way he wants me.  It's like I'm totally self aware, but in a good way. 

And when we talk, he just looks so deeply into my eyes, it's like I can see him falling in love with me.  It is weird because I feel so connected to myself with thoughts, emotions and my body.  Yet I see him falling out of himself...and into me!  I love him inside of me.  Get inside little boy, (not in that way!  Ick!) 

Oh my god, what a rush!  I love, love, LOVE putting on my comfies!  It makes me feel like this totally hot, sex kitten.  More like sex tiger.  Make that sex tigress!  Grrrrrr!  But kitten too because I look and feel so cute in those tiny clothes.  Even kittens have sharp claws.  Smiles!  Sleepy-sleepy  Night-night

****

Dearest Michele,

Thinking about the prettiest of the pretty girls. 

I used to look at them and...I don't know, maybe look down my nose at them.  I see them in the girl's bathroom staring at themselves in the mirror and it bugged me.  It was like the self obsession that I could not stand. 

It was not honest.  It was envy.  I envied them but did not want to look at it honestly.  Hell, it's not like I did not use a mirror.  It's just that I knew they were prettier than me.  A few of them are like, perfect.  And the thing is, it's not like I'm not pretty because I think I am.  I know I am. 

Sometimes I think I lose sight of what is real.  It's like if you are not in the like, I don't know, 0.5%, you're nothing.  That's silly.  Now I see beauty a little differently.  I totally get now how personality does affect how pretty we are. 

Ok, like I'm pretty.  But then there is who I am that makes Tim just melt.  He looks at me and like, I don't know, takes me in all the way and he's like my eager puppy-dog or something. 

Like now I totally get why those girls are primping out all the time in the mirror.  Pretty is  power.  Pretty is power, and power is pretty...at least to some boys.  Seeing the way Tim stares at me makes me feel like one of those 0.5%-ers staring in the mirror.  Weirdly, it's kinda changing the way I even see myself when I look in a mirror.  My looks are power and my power is power!

****

"Yoo-hoo, Tim, are you with us?  Ah, there you are, back from wherever it is you were."  

Ms. Cranston smiled.  Some in his class gave him a passing glance while most entertained their own thoughts without interruption.  

At least twenty minutes of class disappeared as he and Michele went arm in arm, window-shopping down main street.  It was cold and Tim smiled at the thought of them all bundled up cozy in their warm winter wear.  He thrilled at the warm press of her body, low on his side. They were together and they were free.  They were just together and there was not a care in the world as they strolled along.  They'd stop in front of a window and appreciate a dress or a pair of shoes Michele might like.

After scanning the class to assess just how embarrassed he should be, his eyes wandered down to his notes.  Scrawled all over the page were little hearts with the initials, M & T, T & M.  He smiled to himself, embarrassed.  

Sitting next to him, Penny Monroe leaned over to give him a friendly nudge.  With a pointy fingernail, she directed his line of sight to her own notes which were covered with nearly identical hearts.  Within each were the initials, P & B or B & P.  Tim knew she and Brandon went steady.  Looking at one another, each blushed.  

Although alarmed by his public and in his mind, childish display of affection, he felt sure Penny approved and he was steadied by this.  As long as nobody else knew, it was a little reassuring to have this sense of girl connection or girl solidarity.  For a moment in time and he'd only hold onto it for a moment, they were two girls in it together.  

Each smiled and tried to refocus their thoughts on the lecture.

****

Dear Diary,

Am I mean?  Is being mean part of being a Bitch? ...which I clearly am. 

I don't like to think I am mean, but maybe it's true.  But I'm not a mean person!  I really do care about others.  Really!  I am happy when good things happen to good people.  I care about animals and old people and young kids.  I want to live in a friendly, peaceful world and don't want anything bad to happen to anybody. 

But the things I do and say to Tim!  OK, OK, so I do have a mean streak, but it is not totally who I am.  I am so much more than that.  And I don't want anything bad to happen to Tim.  Oh my god no!  That boy is very special to me. 

Having a mean streak does not make me a mean person.  And here is the thing: I'm only really this way with Tim.  And Tim loves it!  So do I.  I'm pretty sure this is only part of what it means to be a Bitch and I think a woman can be a Bitch and not have a mean streak.  Hell, the world calls any successful woman a Bitch even when she is mostly decent to everybody.  So, being a Bitch really is a good thing...

****

Dear Michele!

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my friggin GOD!  I had a dream.  Laughing when I think of writing it down as my MLK I Had a Dream speech. 

It was so beyond!  So completely over the top. For sure, I am disturbed by it...but there is more to it than just... I don't know... disturbance.  There was real meaning in it.