Traveling my path

Pushing open the large heavy door, I stepped into the room. This is where you told me to be. I was astounded at the room I just entered…it wasn’t very large, maybe 20 feet across. It was an octagon of mirrors!

I stood in awe as the door slowly, softly swung shut. Recessed, unobtrusive lighting made the room shimmer with light. Images by the hundred repeating into infinity. Shapes blending until they became unreal specters. The room is bare except for a pedestal in the center about a foot high. I slowly begin to spin, watching the images take wing and fly in swirls and streaks. Faster I spin, feeling ethereal and unreal, blending into the smears of movement I am making. My eyes look upward to the high ceiling the fades to black so that I cannot be sure where it actually exists.

Collapsing in the mad laughter of a child in love, I stagger and sit on the edge of the pedestal, feeling it’s marble harsh coldness beneath me, black as the crone’s night. I take several excruciatingly deep breaths with eyes closed to center myself. As I slowly open my eyes to examine the room, I realize that the mirrors fit together very precisely. There is no way out of this room from the inside. I smile as I realize that although this should send me reeling in terror, the feeling refuses to materialize. I am to wait here for you, you will arrive. I am content to play this game.

Perhaps you are even watching me now. I smile brighter at that thought. I shall play for you. I stand up and step into the middle of the pedestal. I unbutton the front of my summery floral dress. With each button I undo I look up into the mirrors, playing to the audience of my reflection. I tease and flirt with the fabric in my fingers, finally letting the dress fall open and shrugging it off of my shoulders. It falls silently to my feet leaving me with a pale garter attached to the lace trim of sheer hose.

I admire the sheer sultriness of this naughty-girl image. I shall keep this slut look of high heels, hose and garter while I wait for you. I open my arms and very, very slowly turn completely around, letting the images multiply as I expect you are watching my show.

“Lover, I am ready and wet for you, come to me.” I say, breaking the silence. I see a smudge on the mirror where I entered, so I look in that directions expecting you to open the door and come take me. I stand there until my arms get heavy and I finally abandon this pose.

I sniff and try not to make too pouty a face as I decide to sit and wait for you. In this silence I suppose I would hear you come so that I could jump up and quickly look playful and ready for you. I imagine different ways to greet you as the time passes.

“Darling?” I begin to pace a bit, becoming impatient. Perhaps you are detained and I played my cards too soon. You shall come and here I will be, nearly naked, which isn’t a bad thing…but so much less dramatic than I had hoped. Now I start to feel a bit silly for my playing at undressing. I feel myself becoming uncertain and a bit nervous.

I rub my arms and walk around the perimeter of the room, examining the mirrors and finding no flaws.

Now I want to start pleading, perhaps you are trying to make me feel small and uncertain. I make a face. That’s silly. I am doing this to myself. I think. Maybe.

Ok, maybe you want me to ask you more formally. My look immediately becomes devious. I smirk and step back onto the platform. “Fine,” I say, looking up. “May I Please have the Pleasure of Your Company?” I say clearly to the reflections. My look is challenging and smug. “Sir.”

The sound of my voice is unnaturally loud. I am startled as I hear the sound of the mirrors creaking like they threaten to shatter. I am immediately afraid and stand still, listening. The sound stops abruptly.

I didn’t think I had spoken that loudly. How fragile this room must be. I step down and touch one of the glass panels, leaving a smudge. It feels firm and thick and that confuses me more. I go back to the middle of the room and try my voice again.

“Lover,” I say at a normal level and listen…nothing…

“Baby, please?” This time a bit louder. Again…nothing.

“Answer me!” I demand at a near scream and prepare to duck. Nothing.

The thought of it comes creeping up my back, from that place where truths are given to me. Very warily, I try the thought.

“Sir?” I say at a very low level and close my eyes. There it is! That sound. The mirrors crackle and pop loudly, but do not move. How can this be? I say it again louder, “SIR!” The sound is deafening.

I fully expect an explosion, but none comes. The thought finally solidifies in my mind. So this is what this exercise is all about. You want that admission that’s been buried deeply in my heart. That one thing I fight so hard against. Will that release me from this room?

So, here I am…facing a choice. I can wait until you tire of this game, for you are not cruel, or I can say it. I stand up and pace again. I shoot glares at the walls. I stamp my foot at the thought. And then the voice bubbles up, the quote from the bard. “She who doth protest too much…”

“Of course I protest!” I cry out. My life has been strength and control of myself. “I am powerful and in control,” I rage. I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need to feel weak, I can’t feel weak. I am above that! I am better than that! I am different than that!

So carefully have I lived my life, burying any insecurities against the world. No one who knows me would ever thing of the synonyms of submission when describing me. I am looked up to as a pillar of strength. This is who I am! This is the me that I have painstakingly created over all these years. Independent, I am the one that others look to for strength.

I shout loudly to the images “I AM…” and stop. Again “I AM…” I lower my head and my shoulders sag. I take a deep breath.

“What I AM is tired of being that pillar. I am tired of doing this on my own. It occurs to me, at last, that I don’t have to do this alone, to always be this strong.” I look up again. “i am Yours.”

“Master”

The word grows louder and echoes, filling the room with its sound and the sound of the mirrors shattering. The room is dissolving around me. I crouch in terror and cover my head as the mirrors start to fall in shreds, disintegrating into a fine glittery dust as it settles all around me. Shaking I wait for the pain of being torn to shreds, but it doesn’t come.

As the sound fades and silence returns, I open my eyes to see the twinkling of the glitter reflecting colors so sharply their beauty hurts. My eyes fill with tears seeing how lovely the glimmering mounds make. I slowly stand and am not surprised at all to see you standing there, hands held out to take mine.

You pull me close to you, holding me so tightly. Your firm hands and gentle fingers pressing me into you. Your voice low in my ear and you hug me to you. “That’s all I wanted from you, girl. Just your honest admission.”

And I know my world has newly begun for me.

Copyright 2000
Debra Chaffins
All Rights Reserved