May 22nd - Crimson Explorations
Red is the color of life.
The color of love.
The color of rage.
The color of blood, of pain.
We're drawn to it often on a primal level, we're wired for it to engage us in sensations of arousal. Arousal that physiological state which can be interpreted in so many ways. Pleasure, agitation...
Red flags danger.
Red draws the eye of charging bulls.
It stops us in our tracks at street corners.
The flush of it on a woman's chest signals her bodies sexual response.
For me, and many people it's the BDSM safe-word that calls an all stop to play.
Red, Red is power, vibrancy, intoxication... the color of full lips, crushed grapes, and spanked bottoms.
I think it's my favorite color... <smile>
Red is the color I smell when I fuck.
Red is heat... and as summer thickens around me, I feel redder and redder. I was out in the noon-day sun today and I've got a light burn, a soft red flush over my chest, shoulders, cheeks. I feel slightly feverish. It's as if I've been courted by the sun, flirted with, and now I have a 'sex-flush' that will last a few days. It will probably leave my head heavy and my limbs restless all night. Maybe I'll dream of the sun as my lover. The heat of it's rays licking at my loins on some golden beach.
Red is even the color of the shy girlish blush that kept sweeping my cheeks over and over again this afternoon as I hung out with barbie at the Auto wreckers this afternoon.
It was a strange outing. I felt surreal. Not having worked in weeks. Floating in my odd emotional hazed state. Feeling a little every day like I'm skipping school, or I'm having one of those nightmares where I'm supposed to be somewhere like a math exam, but I've forgotten. Feeling a little dazed, dreamy, blissed. And the day was hot.
I was dazzled and kissed by sunshine moment after moment. barbie needed some parts for the car, and so we went to the auto wreckers. I felt completely awkwardly out of my element, but at the same time hyper aware of the... effect... of my presence. I was wearing a tight clingy strappy tank top that emphasized breast and a lot of cleavage, and here I am in a environment filled with working men... and barbie.
barbie who moved in that unusual alien landscape with ease and comfort. Charismatic and charming with the men in cover-alls like she is with everyone.
Almost one of the boys... Except of course for her full lush woman's body, and her girlish smile, and her hair the color of cherry life-savers... Red... More red. And her red baseball shirt, with her red 'super-bitch' logo on the front.
I was ogled, and flirted with, offered a couple of jobs 'lets get you a pair of cover-all's and -you- can help me pull out some transmissions'
And I stood in blissed and slightly stupefied over heated splendor, some odd creature amongst skeletons and carcasses of cars, next to a red model - the same as barbies car, and she, inside... sweating, her red hair, the red interior. Pulling off her red super bitch t-shirt in the stifling heat. Leaving me breathless as she took the bunched off fabric to towel herself off periodically. Wearing only a sports bra that only emphasized every curve, hands getting black from working as she ripped the speakers out, the speakers they were giving us for free to go with the other stuff we'd gotten.
Making some strange comment, with that sparkling laughter she gets in her eyes, about the Butch at the auto wreckers to get stuff for the car, and the femme there with her... oozing out the sexual energy, working, to get us cut some deals. Some strange magic that happens as I walk over bolt infested gravel through the wreckers. The movement of my hips like some gravitational phenomenon that works to invite, under my shy glances. Attempts at subtle advances from men in mismatched uniforms. Men giving unusual and awkward compliments, or excessive advice on our mechanical difficulties, and that someone has free puppies... and I lift my eyes, and my cheeks, my cheeks are red.
I feel innocent, and awkward... fumbling.
barbie says as we leave, that I should have told them about the site.. handed out business cards (which I don't have) that they'd all have signed up.. hell, their buddies would have signed up. And I blush again, and pull my eyes away from her. 'I'm not that kind of girl' I mumble, mostly to myself. Pleased, and shy and embarrassed at the sensations, flirtations, power, the red... the red in me, the red on my cheeks - from the sun, and from my shyness, and from my arousal.
I wasn't a 'porn star' at the auto wreckers. I was like a shy little girl, in a world full of big men, who move in ways that I don't quite comprehend. I don't know cars.. I don't even know how to drive. Mechanics as a field confuses me. It all seemed magical. Like a church.. filled with priests practicing raw and primitive rites, and barbie some kind of strange priestess, using words, and tools, and engaging in rituals that seemed removed from who I am.
I had fun.
XO
Katt