And if they had known it, they wouldn’t have cared, because they were not that interested in other people. Not even if those other people were themselves, thousands of years ago.
Little mistress on the other hand, hated adventure.
But she did need these remains of what once were living, breathing things.
His past adventures were her meat and bones, and her lover provided them to her. Medium rare, with a beautiful pink heart inside. But without the rawness of the flesh.
Just thinking about it made her mouth water.
As soon as a man committed to her, and even if he just pretended to commit to her? Yes even if he just held her a little too tight, for a little too long?
She’d turn into a baby koala, climb onto his back, wrap her wee, furry arms around his shoulders and snuggle her cheek onto his warm upper-back.
And if she was steady, she’d let go of one hand and put her thumb into her mouth, and fall asleep.
Baby koala would never climb down, she needed to be fed, and if you tried to reason with her that she needed to start living her own life, her eyes would fill with tears and she would sob for hours on end until you said that she could stay the way she was.
The little mistress had given her lover explicit instructions, that whenever he could feel that happening, he had to pull her off IMMEDIATELY (there was a time-window in which she could still morph back) and put her on the other side of the room.
“Unless you’re ready to carry me around like a baby koala, for the rest of your life,” she said.
That they could never choose for each other without ruining everything they had, made them both very sad. And the little mistress had decided she was going to look for answers.
The first place she went to was the beach house of The Light King, Richie Sambora.
He was known in his kingdom for being able to light up the entire room with his presence, and that was before he had said a word or played one song. The Light King was known for having a great appeal on women, and had been in a wide variety of relationships and with a wide variety of women.
And this included women with a strong sexual identity, which was why he was the first where the little mistress sought council.
She hoped he had encountered this himself, and knew what to do.
The Light King lead her into his mansion, and gave her lemonade at the bar in his kitchen and listened to her story.
When she was finished the Light King said that he had never encountered anything like her.
“Are you sure?” the little mistress asked.
If there were women like her, he would have known. If he didn’t know them, it meant she was all alone. Which was not an appealing thought.
“Not even Cher?” the little mistress asked.
But even Cher had not turned into a baby koala, when things got serious.
Little mistress thanked the Light King for his council, and left.
The next person she wanted to see was Jon Bon Jovi, because she thought there might be similarities between him and her.
Thinking about a fairy tale name for him, the first thing that shot to mind was:
Prince of Pain, because she thought she felt deep suffering.
Maybe she was misinterpreting!
She sure hoped so.
But what she felt was depth, emotional layering, roots than ran deeper than anybody knew or would be able to track down.
And she wondered if anyone would bother to track them, because the Prince of Pain had a gift of making everybody feel really good. He had a way, not so much to light up the whole room, like Richie did, but to light up you.
Whether it was one on one, or with eighty thousand people: Jon could lift you out of your seat, back on your feet, and fill your heart with hopes and dreams.
But just like little mistress was an X-rated joy to be around with for a few hours, but transformed into the very opposite of that, once you got too close –
she expected the same thing would happen to Jon if you just stayed around long enough.
And that his was probably worse. If she was correct, he would be in actual pain. With the only remedy to go on tour so he could make other people feel good. In those hours on stage, he would be free.
Jon turned out to be on holiday in Israel so they settled for a Skype call.
He greeted her with his sunglasses on and his stupendous smile, and got right down to business:
“What do you got?”
Little mistress explained her problem, and asked him if he thought there was a way to avoid turning into a baby koala. Or if he knew someone who was really good with baby koalas.
“Well, I dunno….” Jon tried to choose his words carefully.
“It helped when I had Richie there. The lows were not so low.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” little mistress sighed.
And she explained how her lover was providing something, the second-hand adventures that she couldn’t go get herself.
“I was hoping for something better,” she said.
But Jon said that he hadn’t found it yet.
Little mistress only had one man to talk to. She had deliberately made him her last resort, and she had hoped that she wouldn’t have to use it.
She was going to ask Nikki Sixx.
Now, she didn’t give Nikki a fairy tale title because how could she possibly outdo someone who had already given himself an epic name, decades ago? Including an XX porn star extension, or at least that’s where she had learned what the X stood for.
Nikki was having a super busy day, and his wife could go into labor any time now. But if little mistress was okay joining him for a walk with the dogs, she could meet him at the beach.
She explained to him her problems – after talking to Richie and Jon she had realized it wasn’t one but two.
The first was that she didn’t like being dependent on her lover for her dose of medium-rare adventures with a juicy pink heart.
And second was that if she would bind him to her, she would turn into a baby-koala and forget all about her purpose and her life.
Not only would she not be a mistress anymore – she was afraid she’d also lose her creativity. That she would no longer write for all her blogs and her different accounts, no longer make YouTube videos, also for two channels.
She would no longer wake up on Monday morning with a craving to write a modern day fairy tale.
It would all be lost.
She would be a thumb sucking little baby koala, incapable of carrying any responsibility or being of any use to anyone.
Nikki heard her out and said he could not help her. That no one could help her.
And he said it in a casual way, just as they were walking alongside the sea. He didn’t even look at her when he broke the news!
“No one can help you,” he repeated, looking over the ocean.
This was even worse than Richie and Jon!
At least they had tried to help her!
“Do you even care?” the little mistress spat out.
“If your daughter would come to you, and ask you this, what would you say then?”
Little mistress was sure she had him cornered. No way that he would brush it off this lightly, if it had been anyone he’d actually cared for.
But Nikki Sixx was not the type to give in, or be swayed from his path.
He smiled and assured her:
“I d tell her the same thing. You know, just this morning I was wondering myself, about the use of pyro. You know what pyro is?”
By now little mistress was almost exploding with anger and she couldn’t care less what pyro was. But Nikki just continued as if he didn’t notice the angry baby koala next to him.
“Everybody is using pyro these days. It makes the show really rock. But at the same time you don’t want to be dependent on it and become a one trick pony.
So far, I haven’t find a way around it. Maybe there isn’t any.”
Little mistress could see how this related to her, but that nothing was solved, was still highly unsatisfactory. That even Nikki Sixx didn’t have an answer, meant all hope was lost.
“Often you don’t need an answer,” Nikki said.
He was now clearly enjoying himself.
“Just sit with the question.”
He pushed his sunglasses up into his long black hair. His tattooed hand, heavy with rings, the strong wrists covered with bracelets.
He was giving her a long stare with his light green eyes.
The little mistress swallowed and then manned up.
“Is this one of those stories where no one has sex?”
He bared his perfect teeth in a wide smile.
“Now that, is a good question.”
An unexamined life is not worth living
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