This personal essay explores the fluidity of the dom/sub butch/femme roles in a female-female relationship.
We got together when I was 23 and she was 22 and both attending local universities. I had just reached my limit with my first female lover, who had an unfortunate crack habit, and decided to go to the local "family" bar to unwind. I had absolutely no intention of "hooking up" with anyone else and was strongly contemplating giving "the life" up altogether. (That's for a future submission.)
There I was, in the bar, and wanting to just "chill" and get my mind off my recent troubles. I wanted to dance so, I found the person sitting near the dance floor that I was the least attracted to, and thus unthreatened by, and asked her to dance. T was absolutely not my type; a stud, wearing baggy jeans, a tee shirt, a baseball cap and bandanna and a gheri curl, in the early nineties, extremely buxom and at least twenty years my senior, and definitely, so I thought at the time.
[My first, K, had been totally feminine and the perfect complement for my classy, cool, androgynous self (slim, tall, natural, boyish good looks without being overtly masculine) again, so I thought at the time. She was petite, sexy, desirable by both men and women and naturally submissive. Being with her gave me permission to explore my dominant side.]
As far as I was concerned, T was a safe person to hang out with without trying to get personally involved. We ended up dancing together the rest of the night. There was no verbal interaction between us other than my occasional questions about whether she was tired or wanted to continue. (Remember, I thought she was considerably older than I.) She assured me repeatedly that she was fine.
We danced the last dance, a slow one, then I thanked her for her time and started heading to the door. To my surprise, she followed me and caught me halfway to the door wanting to know if she could see me again. When it dawned on me that she was interested, my female ego took over. She wanted my number, so I gave it to her thinking that a little conversation wouldn't hurt anything. I tried to leave again but she wanted to walk me to my car. Then, the real dance began.
By the time we reached my vehicle, she had me fully engaged. We sat in my car for another hour or two just talking. In hindsight, I realize that I did most of the talking and she most of the listening. We found that we had a lot in common; both in school, similar fields of study, close in age (she was, in fact, a year younger than I) similar backgrounds etc. When we finally decided to call it a night, I thought I had found an occasional hangout buddy but she had something else in mind.
We talked by phone the following day and she pressed me to schedule a time to get together. I invited her to my apartment the next day with the intent of "letting her down easy". When she arrived, I delivered my prepared speech about how I was just getting out of a bad relationship and wasn't ready to become involved with anyone else and furthermore was seriously considering leaving women alone altogether. She was disappointed but respected my decision and left.
I thought the issue had been put to rest, but she called me again the next day wanting to challenge my decision. She cited all of the commonalities and similarities there were between us and made a strong appeal for continued contact, even if our friendship couldn't be romantic. I had never met a person so persistent and so "into" me. She would not give up. So, I gave in. We made arrangements to get together for a late dinner the following night.
By this time, her interest had pushed my "mack" button. I found myself turning on the charm and actively courting her interest. When she dropped me off at home, she came up for a minute. We made small talk and she got ready to take her leave. On her way out the door I asked her, in my most seductive voice, if she was sure she wanted to leave. She hesitated but then decided that it would be best that she did. I regarded her ability to say no to me as a personal challenge. Now that the possibility of sexual intimacy was "out there", I had to "close the deal".
Within the next day or so, we got together at my place again just to "chill". I fully expected that before the night was over, the sex would be on. I knew that T always wore a baseball cap and a bandanna but never questioned her about it. She told me that she had experienced alopecia as an adolescent and had lost a great deal of the hair in the crown of her head. By this time, we had established such a rapport that I could be nothing less than sensitive and understanding of her experience, vulnerability and pain. The removal of her cap and bandanna was a part of our intimate exploration that first night and when she cried and clung to me at the point of her climax, I was hooked. A few weeks later, she moved in and we lived and loved together for three years.
The irony of our relationship was that this woman allowed me to believe that our getting together was my choice when she orchestrated the whole thing. While she was, outwardly, the more masculine of the two of us, she was the perfect submissive as relates to the use of indirect influence to achieve her desired end.
Copyright © 2002. Used with author's permission.
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