“Here We Are, You and Me, on the Last Page.”

I knew that one day I would be writing this. Every good story has an end, does it not? I’ve told Sir that I intend to -one day- publish a novel about us, about this… journey, this large part of my life. I crack jokes all the time about how I could do E.L. James one better, but I have yet to put my money where my mouth is. I tell him too that the only way my book would be a commercial success is if I wrote in a sappy, happy, kinky ending for Sir and Fatal.

Real life does not always have happy endings, but if I could write one for Sir and Fatal it would go a little something like this:


Afters years of dancing around one another, after intimate moments and heartbreaking confessions, after tears and bruises and promises kept and unmade and hollow words and pained smiles, after misunderstandings and miscommunications, after finally learning to read one another and to speak with one another, openly, honestly, permissively, after the great sex and the clarity, and the real emotions, after all the talks and the sappy movies and struggle snuggles, Fatal and Sir buy a house somewhere lovely, close to a large city, but far enough away not to be bothered, somewhere that Sir can feel the grass between his toes and Fatal can bike down to the shore to hear the waves any night she pleases.

They outfit their bedroom with hooks and restraints and Sir’s favorite spanking chair. They hang their favorite implements in places of honor and they shop for sheets together. They both work, they both have hobbies, they both have friends. Inside of their house, their nest, Fatal wears her collar, always. She cooks dinner and keeps the house and wears retro pinup clothing and defers to Daddy about everything. It is her kinky 50s dream in living color.

They take baths in the large, clawfooted bath tub, and they cuddle to watch black and white movies on an overstuffed couch. She drinks wine and occasionally dips a finger in his scotch, just to taste.  He reads to her and she sings to him. They play hide and go seek and they see operas and ballets and shows together. They attend nerdy conventions together and get excited about the latest technology on the market. She has a clothing addiction and they both collect figurines and other trinkets. They travel together, whenever they can. They make inappropriate jokes to one another, they share secret smiles and have codewords for annoying situations. He tolerates her love of snow and she understands his need of warmth.

He thinks she drives like a mad woman. She thinks he worries too much. They bicker occasionally. They make up with sweet kisses and hot sex. She reads his tarot cards and he acts like it isn’t malarkey. She sits in his lap while he plays video games. He writes and she paints. They sleep on the beach in the sand. They nurse each other back to health when they are sick. She cries on his shoulder, and he collapses in her arms. There are back rubs and shoulder rubs and foot rubs. She shaves his face for him. He brushes her hair. He kisses her tattoos, she hugs him from behind. They hold hands. They slow dance in an empty room on a silent night.

They grow old together.
They have no regrets.


And with that… I have said all I will ever need to say.

And so, long time readers, new readers, dear and treasured friends…from the last page… good bye. For now.


11 responses to ““Here We Are, You and Me, on the Last Page.”

  1. There are women that I only know pieces of and I have to say that you shine bright amongst them. For me, what you’ve given here, are jewels. Your journey, even if only a small audience reads it, has the kind of metal that forges modern and clear thoughts if a reader has an open mind – at least that’s how I see your honesty about a taboo subject in a sexually repressed society. There’s a freedom you write with that allowed me to follow your mind through your own experiences and yes, they were intense and hot but your mental steps were essential in their threadbare type of honesty. That version should be out there. Women need to pull out of old views on sexuality to find their own, imo. Write 2 versions – it could be a selling/marketing point too. You know, sometimes you just have to give people ALMOST more than they can take! I have an old book that has Arabian Nights on one side, you flip it over and Aesop’s Tales are on the other. I’m seeing visuals already for a cover. Of course, I think of books I can hold in my hands.
    Also, I never wanted to know the “reality” of you two because from little bits of what you didn’t write… I just didn’t want to know. Besides, what you did write was the heart of the matter anyway – incredible. I love your ending imagery. I will definitely miss your writing. PLEASE write about your book here to inform us. Write the book Fatal. xoxo, J

  2. I’m sad you’re leaving. I feel close to you even though I’ve only read your words. You seem to say things I feel. I guess I feel weird asking you to keep in touch when I’ve not been good about commenting more.

  3. I’m late to the farewell party, but I am filled with so much bitter-sweetness I can’t tell if i love or hate it… Your writings, and you, to this day have awakened and refined so much in me. You will remain forever a legendary and distinguished writer and a luminary adventurer in the maze of Life. I can only urge and encourage you to write your book, the tale of you and yours, and when you do, please, let me read the first draft! ❤

    As you well know, you have all of my love; and the hearts and minds of so many in your grasp… I look forward to whatever you choose to do next.

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