Monday, July 25, 2005

Nine and a Half Weeks

“The first time we were in bed together, he held my hands pinned down above my head.”

A promising start.

It had been a long day. The alarm went off early so that I could make my flight. There was a hurricane swirling its way into the Gulf of Mexico, casting doubts onto all flights into Miami.

Thankfully, the flight was uneventful. The hotel check in went quickly.

An early dinner sent me into a nap. The nap left me refreshed and relaxed—and awake just after midnight.

A reasonable hour to take in the nightlife of South Beach.

I looked out the window at the white caps of the waves in the dark sea. I could see the shoreline from my bed.

I preferred to stay in.

I poured a bourbon and glanced at the nightstand. I had made some headway on the De Kooning biography during the flight. I could dig back into his life for a few hours.

Or I could read Elizabeth McNeill’s Nine and a Half Weeks: A Memoir of a Love Affair.

I had seen the film version back in the day. But as I read past the first line and into the first pages, I realized that it was a pale imitation of the text.

The memoir is the story of a successful New York woman who finds herself drawn into a sadomasochistic relationship with a man she encounters by chance. For nearly three months—nine and a half weeks, to be precise—her life is riven into two parts: her days as a capable businesswoman, and her nights as the man’s submissive.

She gives herself over totally. He baths her. He feeds her. She fulfills any request, going so far as to mug someone as his behest.

What made the book so shocking in its time—1978—was this convergence of an accomplished woman who would, so readily, give herself over to being dominated by a man. Wasn’t submission a contradiction of feminism?

As I read it, I was primarily taken by the language. McNeill writes in matter-of-fact style that would have pleased E. B. White. The clarity of the text heightens the reality of the narrative, lending plausibility to extraordinary events.

McNeill is a pseudonym. Without revealing her identity or my own, I can say that I went to high school with her daughter. Back then, I was taken by this proximity to an extreme; all of this actually happened to a real person who was not all that different than anyone else.

That remains a rather thrilling thought—that real people can take one another to such places. That someone can take such pleasure in moments at the other end of their daily lives.

For McNeil, as for some others with demanding lives, there is an appeal to the notion of surrendering control.

I turned the page.

“This is good,” I said. “Have you read it?”

Bridget grunted.

I lowered the book.

“No baby, that’s not right.” She had my entire cock in her mouth, very hard and very deep.

Her brown eyes looked at me questioningly.

“I can still see some of the base of my cock,” I corrected her.

I took her head in my hand, and pushed her mouth further down my shaft. Now I couldn’t see my cock at all.

Drool puddled in my pubic hair.

“Better.” I took a sip of bourbon and returned to the book.

“Just fifty more pages or so.”

I stroked her hair as I read.


Anonymous said...

Miami with Bridget? Let us guess she paid for the whole thing?

Anonymous said...

Honey, read the archives. She *is* his sugar mama.

Anonymous said...

I have read it all. I guess I feel bad for her. I think when last we heard from her she asked for confirmation that she was head girl. I am guessing she knows nothing of this blog. I also guess if she did, she would not be throwing all this money at Jefferson. Call it a hunch. Obese woman paying for love and companionship? Sad.

Madeline Glass said...

Darling, everyone pays in some way or another for companionship. The currency is irrelevant.

What makes Bridget's willingness to pay for dinners or flights any different from Marcus giving me gifts and offering plane tickets?

Her weight?? For shame.

Anonymous said...

I think Anon's hunch is that this woman is being used.

Anonymous said...

Everything Madeline said.

Jenna said...

If the gender roles were reversed - at least with the gift giving, I bet no one would even think twice about the situation.

Why is it accepatable for a man to shower gifts upon a woman, but when a woman showers a man with gifts it is somehow pathetic and sad?


Asian Big Girl said...

* Stepping on soapbox *

Greetings, all.

Why, yes, this is Bridget the Sugar Mama (though I prefer Sugar Baby – you know, round, cute,brown….Sugar Mama candies aren’t made anymore, and they were long and skinny.) herself, sallying forth to comment on this particular Miami story.

1) First things first: personally, I don’t pay for
sex, though I find nothing wrong with it for those who decide to do so, and, for the record, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with those those who work in the business (Insert my willing adoration of Marcus here, and please visit his website, as he’s totally hot, and I promised I would say so). I’ve never had a shortage of men willing to sleep with me as I think I’m fairly confident in my sexuality and in who I am. And why, yes, even frat boys, a CEO, an up and coming actor, and gee, even Jefferson have been among the men who managed to find themselves attracted to me enough to sleep with me! More than once! For years at a time even! And (gasp) there are times even *I’ve* had a sugar daddy!

On a side note I do wonder if you would have made the comment though, if I weren’t (ahem) “obese /fat/ bbw/ gross/ stick your own derogatory comment here.” I’m amazed at how many people think fat chicks (or fat people) shouldn’t be having sex, or assume we can’t get any. Please. I doubt you would have said that out loud about asian/black/latina or any other ethnicity, so why is it acceptable about me? (…and hey, wait, I *am * asian. Care to hurl a shadowy insult at that part of me as well?)

To think that my weight should make a difference in the level of Jefferson’s affection for me is a more than a bit undeserving, and shortchanges each of us. Heck, maybe he never dated a fat chick before, but I had never dated a blond either (ok, not in this country anyhow). We met, we were attracted, and that was that, in terms of what we each “looked” like. I *am * different from who he’s dated previously in the blog in some way, shape or form, and so he chose to describe me. I didn’t find anything wrong with it.

Oh, and since I'm here, to go with the whole“fat chick”stereotype? If you’re going to have to go with one, go with the rumors that big girls give better blowjobs? That’s true. ;) You can keep that one, if you'd like.

2) Moving on…actually, I obviously do know about the blog. And I know it’s a *blog*, not his entire life and his relationship(s). In fact,I’d say, as one who knows him outside of this blog fairly well,and after
chatting with him about it... just a gentle reminder that the blog is an *expression* of him, but by no means does it reflect his entire person. The parts you see are essentially the parts he *allows* you to see.

3) There’s something called “artistic license.”Which I freely allow him to do with certain aspects of our relationship in this blog.

Though I suppose I should thank you for feeling “bad” for me, please don’t fret. I am a big girl after all, and quite capable of taking care of myself. I am amused by what he writes about me,and he is aware of the fact if I wanted to, I could comment on it, but I normally choose not to…until today.

4) As for the money…while not, say, Bill Gates rich, I get by. And I don’t believe he ever said I paid for everything in Miami? And haven’t you all realized by now I am a woman with champagne tastes and an overriding need to get it at Pabst Blue Ribbon prices? Pabst, for god's sake!!!

Whether or not I did front the Miami trip is beside the point. Thanks, Madeline, for pointing out what's true. Currency of some sort -- emotion, time, money, feelings -- is exchanged in all of them. I've never felt "used" by Jefferson. In all honesty, he has been a fabulous lover, but a more magnificent friend. Sex has never been the sole reason I've been devoted to him, and certainly not the overriding one. He and I know the reasons why, and in the end, that’s all that matters.

Let’s recap, shall we?

I know of the blog. I do not feel used.Fat chicks get laid, and can have rich, fulfilling relationships. Jefferson is a sweetheart, but I am aware of each of our limitations and where we each are right now in our lives. I am a big girl comfortable with my size and my sexuality and in my real life relationship with him outside in the bricks and mortar world. For the record, he is by no means the only boy I am with at this time, though it's crystal clear I'm rather fond of him.

Finally,ladies and gentlemen, for those who question my sporadic appearances,part of it is by choice,and I wouldn’t be quite so quick to imagine I won’t be there at the end of the blog, albeit,likely offscreen, as I’ve never been one to usually grab the spotlight.

After all, I was here at least a year beforehand, and if you have carefully done your reading, you'll see that both he and I intend, right now, that I am around for quite a bit longer.

-- Bridget

*Stepping off soapbox and back to lurking and life *

ThreeOliveMartini said...


I am a large girl or how did you say it .. big girl.. myself and I have never had problems finding sex..

and besides that I think I am pretty darned attractive..

and I think my weight or the amount of money i make has nothing to do with that attractiveness..

good for you for setting it straight..

and btw.. I hope you had a fabulous time !!

court said...

In this corner Bridget.....kicking ass, setting the record straight and taking no prisoners. In this corner....all you other short-sighted anons!

Viviane said...

Bridget! I'm glad to finally read your side of the story. You go, girl!

(claps and whistles)

And being off blog? It's a *good thing.*

Jefferson said...

Oh Bridget, must you spank with such force? Remember, not all minds are so agile as your own.

How's that crow taste, Anonymous?

You are welcome to deposit apologies here--anonymously or otherwise.

Asian Big Girl said...

No apologies are necessary from anyone, Sweetness, as you well know I do my little part to banish prejudices of some sort or another whenever I can. ;)

Besides, if now they know better, that's all that really counts.

Now, with my semi super power of granting knowledge firmly estabilshed, I go off to smack down ignorance somewhere else...

*swirling her black, poncho, dramatically behind her and sweeping off *

"To the KnowledgeMobile...Awaaayyyyyyy!"

I *so * know my silliness is a huge turn on for Jefferson. ;)

Viviane said...

KnowledgeMobile! Another librarian?

Then you need to wear a big "L" on your chest. ;- D

Damm, but Jefferson attracts some fucking smart women.

Madeline Glass said...

...and superheroes.

Kisses, girls.

Demon Queen said...

Jefferson, this has been a wonderful opportunity to explore an important issue. Bet you didn't know that when you posted! LOL

Your blog was listed under poetic license. Who can tell what is beautiful until a lover looks at his beloved and expresses what only his eyes can see? Perhaps it is revealed only for HIS eyes alone?

Viviane... it's you I adore.

Anonymous said...

honestly, when i read the initial entry the whole weight thing never occured to me. why is it such a factor with people? i'm attracted to women with spirit and a sense of sexual adventure. what does it matter if they are big or skinny or somewhere in between? it's not what you have, it's how you use it. go for it bridget! if you ever come to hawaii for a visit, let me know.

waveman said...

well i just screwed up that post. i am not annoymous. i'm waveman. sorry about that. i'm a techno idiot.

pierresplace said...

I purchsed the original edition when it was first published and have had my copy since then. I've read it over and over again. With me, I'd never leave her, she was too, too delicious. I treasure it as it is a fascinating love story and holds in it, the essence of love between a man and a woman. I remember fondly the times and ladies that have shared this type of lovemaking with me.