My Sapphic Soiree was called for Saturday.
I would meet Anastasia for dinner at 5:45. We would move to the bar at 7:45. At 8, Anastasia would move to a table for her and the ladies, and, after they all arrived, and after they all got initially comfortable with one another – and talked through things like boundaries and preferences, and received their gift bags – Anastasia would begin to send them over to me, one by one.
Somewhere in there, Cee would escort Polina up to the room where she would situate herself, make herself pretty (even prettier), and then Cee would return to the table, at which point I would ascend with a lady of my choice – and the fun would begin in earnest.
Cee would shuttle the women up, one at a time, ending with Anastasia’s arrival, after settling the check in the bar.
At this point, my fantasy grew hazy.
What, exactly, would happen?
I envisioned it all unfolding organically.
Maybe there would be a moment where they all wore the matching panties and t-shirts I’d gotten them.
Maybe there would be a moment where they all played with themselves with their toys.
Maybe, a moment with all of them attending to me, or all of us attending to one of them.
Honestly? I didn’t much care.
As I had said to T the night before, and to Anastasia at dinner, my fantasy was, in many ways, truly complete once the last woman had arrived in the room. [Pause: this fascinates me. It seems like an undeniable bit of evidence that fantasies – at least my fantasies – at least this fantasy – have little to do with sex and everything to do with… something else. I’ve written about this before. I’ll write about it again. I must write about it as it relates to this evening a lot more….]
