Meeting jealousy

He started off by asking me if I was jealous. When Master asks me questions it causes little bursts of inward thought where I must actually think and sort through to find the answer. The same holds true with a good deal of His conversation. I rarely part from Him without a wealth of thinking and pondering going on, and it often continues for quite some time. I like that about it. I think that is what engaged me from the first, after the initial blush of pure crush. I am likewise inspired to do the same. I want to ask things that make Him think, things that show me more of...Him.

When He asked me if I was jealous, I wasn't immediately sure what He spoke of. It was the new slave passed out on His couch that He meant, and this was where I had to dig in and ponder. I was too damned happy just being with Him to even think about anything else. He had brought other slaves home before, and hadn't asked me that. Was this something special? I asked Him if that meant He didn't want me, and He explained that what was between us was determined by us. If it had been the other, I surmised, I probably would have been jealous.

As we spoke, the content reached in and wrapped around my heart. I could see He was torn between our conversation and the 'everything else' that was going on. I wanted to hold Him and console Him and let Him know I was there ..for Him. With my hand to His heart I swore that I wanted no other to catch me and as long as that opportunity hadn't changed...which made me giddy with relief...I wasn't jealous.
Yet.

As if something was allowed free, the conversation shifted. He confessed He didn't know how He felt about her, Sev, but was possessive of what she had given Him. I could feel the emotions in the air around us, I watched as His thoughts roamed and He gave them voice. His need to find the Ubar was a tangible urgency thrumming through His veins. The burning question of games and power plays behind actions taking root and becoming a need to know. I confessed my own woman's intuition, saying I thought the Artisan's motives calculated for a better purpose.

The further we discussed it, the more certain He was with the need to find Ay. At the same time, He would shrug off the implications. I watched the dance of feelings getting tucked into the chest while logical thinking kept trying to take over. I felt the passion that bubbled inside, contained only by His rigid set of codes. Twisting among the words was that need...that need for assurance...of a woman's honest desire to have Him in her life.

So I asked Him if He was the sort of man that liked a jealous woman at His feet. Inside I was wondering if this was what assured Him of a woman's feelings. I was relieved to hear that the green eyed monster is not a welcome visitor, though He sought passion. I laid my feelings at His feet once more, letting Him dissect their nature. Passion, jealousy, a starry eyed smitten girl. All I knew is that I would fight anything that threatened His happiness, or my heart's need to be with Him. He left that path open for me to sort out for myself, expressing that as long as I was not fighting Him or myself, I was fine. This was one of those things I would have to think about for a long time, so with the need for more information I asked if I ..fought Him. He said with jealousy I could. There is that word again. A word that feels odd. I wonder if it is a learned response or an expected one. He seems to know much more about jealousy than I do. And for what I am learning...it is dangerous ground. Sometimes He seems to know things He doesn't realize...He knows.

Like about Seveya. I can feel how important she is to Him. He has spoken it and I can see it...in His movements, in everything that warms the air around Him. I told Him then, that I don't know how He feels about me. A little bit of humor peeked out when He admitted most do not. He did, however, bless me with the admittance that I bring Him comfort and pleasure. My heart did flip flops and I wore that like a crimson badge of honor on my own cheeks. Tuchuk Warriors are not the only ones who wear pride on their faces.

I held on to the faith that as we grew to know one another there would be more wonderful things. I can't deny I wouldn't love to see a wealth of emotions fluttering over His features, spilling into the air around us when we are together. I felt so lucky to be there, to be sharing all this with Him. I felt so special.

He is such a giving man. He lifted me up to the sky with a playful smirk and the sweetest words ever when He told me I was special. Like Him, I laced my profound reactions, the heat that turned up degrees beneath my shift, the emotions that glossed my eyes behind a light tease. I thanked Him, then told Him He certainly knew how to make a girl feel wonderful. Oh Dee...wait until You hear this!

It was then that I realized the tip of conversation had swung away from all that He must be dealing with inside. I wanted Him to have a chance to feel...wonderful...I suppose. I wanted Him to taste His dreams again, just as He was filling mine with the fruit of delight. I spoke of Seveya, and how I really thought she was the one to give Him fat Tuchuk babies. I don't know much about my Master yet. I don't know all His family or His friends. I don't know if He and Seveya grew up together, played in the dirt as children, chased after life in parallel space. I don't know who He has known, or what their relationships have been. He had a very complete life before I ran into Him, and like everything else, I am just learning it.

I have learned who seems to touch Him inside. Who brings out the ease and smiles, if only through my briefest of encounters with Him. Each time I have run into He and Seveya, something intense has been going on. Something warm heats the air. And something flames inside of Him. There is something delicious with Asria and Lei as well, something she draws out of Him - that protective possessiveness. But that one day when I was held spellbound beneath the wagon listening, I felt the sizzle of future in the air when He spoke to Seveya. A closeness and ease of which I am a bit envious, and the spark that would flame between them.

He wasn't sure how bright that spark might actually be, He just knew He wasn't willing to give up what He had found with her. I made a comment...that the spark was what dreams are made of. I mean...isn't it? Isn't that what we look for in relationships? Something that draws us in over and over? He jumped on that, wanted to tear it apart and test my words. He wanted to know if I truly believed that what I saw was what dreams are made of. He made me pause and think, though not in test of my heart's feelings. I carefully explained that yes, I did believe that it was. I just also felt He had the power to snuff out the spark.

And then He mentioned jealousy...again.