My Dinner With A Diva
We were somewhere out of Redmond when the Advil finally took effect. My driver, Galahad, was turning up the stereo to aid in the speeding process. I remember at one point Galahad looking over and asking me, “So just how does one introduce themselves to a diva?”
Good question, we had just left the ren fair
and were in the process of violating several traffic laws (as well as a few laws of physics) in order to get me to my dinner date with Midori
“Well, seeing as how we have been talking in Middle English all day I suppose I could walk in, drop to one knee and say. Oh great Lady Midori! Thyne are truly magnificent! Lo for I am but a simple rope maker, amongst all these paragons on Topping I am humbled in your presence…”
“Nah too geeky, she will probably stab you with a fork if you do that.”
“Um I could try and greet her in Japanese?”
“You know Japanese?!”
“Um well… kinda..”
“Domo Arigoto Mr. Roboto…AIEEEE GODZILLA!!!”
“No, just no”
“Crap. So what do I say?”
give you any advice?”
“Yeah, she warned me to not upstage her.”
“What, YOU upstage someone?!”
To say that there was some pressure here would be an understatement. Tonight I, as my reward for trouncing my competition at the naked sushi slice off
, was to meet and have dinner with THE grand dame of kink, Fetish Diva Midori. In town this weekend teaching a series of classes in bondage and kink, I am granted an audience few get. Sure on the surface it would seem like a simple thing. Dinner with a group of people from the leather community who want to entertain and impress a visiting celebrity. However this is Midori we are talking about, quite possibly THE biggest star in kink. Her book brought Japanese rope bondage out of the shadows and into mainstream. Her classes sell out weeks in advance. For a kinkster, especially one who makes bondage rope, this is like meeting the queen of kink.
We arrive at home early and in one piece. T greets me at the door holding a towel and directs my smelly, sweat covered self to the shower. My clothes are all laid out waiting for me. As she and Galahad chat I do the mad shower / shave / dress routine…in and out in less than 20 minutes. Dressed now in my deep green kilt, docs and a button-down I look nervously at T. I can’t believe how calm she is, sitting there in her black silk slacks and top looking… oh my… she looks good, talk about arm candy. A quick “missed anything” check and we are off. In my bag I hold the 2 most important items for the night. A copy of Midori’s book, a book given to me by my mother in law
and quite possibly the whole reason I make rope today. The second item? Why two coils of my best rope of course. My goal for the evening is simple. Get an autograph for my book and present her with rope.
T and I arrive at the restaurant with 5 minutes to spare. Amazed we take a minute to collect ourselves and focus. When we walk into the private dinning room, everyone is there but our guest of honor. Seems her last class ran late and she was swarmed with fans wanting face time with her. We sit and chat a bit; I show Matisse my new collection of bruises
. She smiles and tells me that men pay her a lot to leave welts like that on them.
Finally she arrives, even late and tired from teaching this woman can make an entrance. Impeccably dressed in a white silk shirt and black trousers, her hair is tied back into a bun. With her glasses on she looks slightly older than I expected, No old is the wrong word to use. Mature? No… experienced. Yes, experienced in that, “this woman knows more about sex than you will ever hope to and can fuck you into the ground”, kind of way. Striding in, the picture of confidence she takes her place at the head of the table, naturally, and smiles. Shaking out her hair and turning to smile at our host she gives out a sigh of relief and addresses our host in a voice that could be described as mixture of dark black velvet draped over razor blades. Rich and inviting yet masking something sharp and potentially dangerous. When she speaks she looks right at you. No she looks right through you, deep almond brown eyes that seem to know everything you are thinking. Her speech is punctuated by the occasional animated gesture or facial expression. Each one perfectly timed for maximum effect.
For the next 3 hours she commanded the room. Telling stories about recent events, parties she had been to and people she had been with. It was like a who’s who of kink. This woman knows EVERYONE! I did my best to impress her, but it was obvious that this was her show. If I was to be successful tonight I needed to check the charisma at the door and be a supporting actor in this evening’s drama. I remember at one point, when Max and she were discussing a recent scene at Thunder involving race and a rope noose. T looked over at me and in the non verbal language of spouses we both exclaimed, “OH MY GOD WE ARE SO VANILLA!”
As the hour grew late, I patently waited for my opening. The restaurant staff had long since stopped refilling our waters. We were all obviously tired but nobody wanted the night to end. . Max
, bless his soul, made the first move. Thanking everyone for a great night, he rose to leave. Yes the night was quickly coming to a close, time to make my move.
Leaning in I lower my head a bit and look her in the eyes, asking for but two small favors before this evening ends. The first, a simple autograph.
“What would you have me sign?” she asks?
I open my bag and pull out my well worn copy of her book.
“Why this, this book”, I tell her how this book is quite possibly the reason I make rope today. I tell her how this book was first given to me by my mother in law.
“Your mother in law?” she asks, now turning her gaze to T.
“Yes, but T tells this story far better than I”.
As T begins her tale of how her mom is a 24/7 slave and that they talk about SM openly, Midori listened intently. Here, this woman whom we have hung on her every word for the last 3 hours now sat, hand on chin listening intently to T tell her tale.
With a smile, Midori now signs my book. Looking up she tells T to “Tell your mom hello. I’d love to meet her someday. Oh and the other thing?”
“This, a token of my respect” I respond as I pull the two bundles of brightly colored hemp rope from my bag.
“Oh what wonderful color, I can’t wait to play with this. Thank you.”
I smile and give her my best “awe shucks” look. The whole time I’m doing the victory dance in my head.
“You know…” She says in that voice and now looks even deeper at me, “I do have this project coming up where I could use your help… here is my private e-mail address.” She punctuates the word “private” with a slightly raised brow as she hands me her card.
We raise to leave, I again bow and thank her for the honor and privilege of her company. She responsed with a smile and thanks me for the gift, saying “we will talk again soon”.
As T and I make for the door I catch Matisse’s eyes. She gives me a quick wink, well done.
As I type this I have to look down at the book and card sitting next to me in order to remind me that this did in fact actually happen.