LS Harteveld

Stay

Published on August 23, 2018August 23, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Lauren has stepped up her game, posting a daily video on YouTube about how to be a good mistress.
Until it dawns on her, that she has broken one of the cardinal rules, last time she had sex with Mr.Big.
And hasn’t heard from him since.

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.
As much I like to think I can prevent history repeating by learning from past experiences, ultimately you can’t change a fuck about anything.
Not in a positive way.
Nor in a negative way.
If someone is meant to be your friend, you can behave like a true asshole and yet somehow you will end up back together.
And the same thing is true for when there’s a mismatch:
you can tiptoe around their sensitivities but they will feel insulted or unwelcome anyway.
Best give it up entirely, if you think about it.
However these were not my thoughts last week, when I went over to see Big for a let’s call it “troublesome” breakfast date. Mr.Big had been holding out on me, only asking me for small encounters or dates in public places.
We had one proper date this entire year.
I think.
I m not sure.
Anyway, it had kind of been bothering me for a while, and yet it still came as a surprise to me that I fell in love with someone else.
By now I do have things sorted out with Christopher, and he has told me we cannot see each other anymore. Apparently it had been a surprise to him as well.
But I didn’t know that yet when I went over to see Mr.Big.
And either way I wanted to know what Big’s position was on this. The curiosity, or maybe “obsession”, over what had been going on in his life, and why he didn’t want to see me as often and for as long as he used to, had been killing me for months. Being in love with someone else gave me a good reason to ask questions I normally wouldn’t ask.
But I was aware that me pushing things, was going to make this morning a likely candidate to be our last.
Or worse; that we would have what should have been loving makeup sex.
But that it was incomplete, icky sex, where we acted as if we still wanted each other.
He wouldn’t tune into me, the way he had been doing for the past three and a half year.
And already in love with someone else, I wouldn’t respond to him, as fully as I always had.
It would not be makeup sex at all, but our last time. And the experience would stain everything we had had.
I didn’t want that.
So that was why although I was carrying condoms, I had no intention of having sex. It was the safest way to avoid another icky, out-of-tune, last-time breakup sex experience.
Something I had plenty of.
So I went over to see him, and told him I was in love with someone else, and that this made it relevant for me to know why he had not been wanting to see me the way he used to.
Why we had so little sex.
And that I could feel he still wanted me, and cared deeply for me, which made it even more confusing.
I got an answer, but it wasn’t the clear-cut answer I was hoping for. Maybe that had been unrealistic to expect, considering our affair had never been a clear-cut anything. And in a way it was one of the many things I appreciated about it.
We didn’t have weekly scheduled time together or anything.
I never knew where I stood.
And I fricking loved it.
So of course he wasn’t going to suddenly, magically, lift the veil and allow me to look into the depths of his soul as to what his motivation had been.
And we had sex.
And it was wonderful.
Even if this would prove to be our last time together, it would have been a good one.
But there was one moment during sex where I lost it.. kind of. I was still “on the lookout” so to speak, to not let this turn into a negative last-time experience. And now that we were about to have wonderful sex, there really was only one way this could turn sour, in hindsight.
Which was if he would breakup and get another mistress, or divorce and get another girlfriend, and me finding out that this woman had already been in his life at that very moment we were having our really-great-non-icky-in-retrospect-breakup-sex.
And somehow I forgot everything I knew about being a good mistress and asked him.
“I have to know: Is there someone else? Have you been seeing someone else?”
We were still half clothed, but physically we were way past the point where it was comfortable to return. I asked it at a moment when you should never ask questions like that.
It was that Paradise by the Dashboard Light moment, where someone will answer any way they have to, in order not to ruin the moment, and have sex.
So he answered: “What? No!”
And I was relieved.
I don’t know if I believed him, but when I asked that question I was just so aware that I didn’t want to ask it. I didn’t want to be a woman who felt she had a right to know what he did when he wasn’t with her.
That’s what wives do.
Or girlfriends.
Or inexperienced mistresses, who didn’t have a clue how to play the game.
But I was a Good Mistress.
I had studied this shit. I knew EXACTLY what I was doing, and yet I lost it. I slipped. Right at the moment when I thought we had made it through, and had avoided all bad scenarios imaginable, I overplayed my hand by wanting to prevent that one last scenario – of him already seeing someone else.
Whether he had spoken the truth or not hardly mattered.
My question proved that I could turn into doing the wifely thing in the blink of an eye. That my mistress side was a charade, a mask, that I knew how to wear.
But that could come off any second.
And underneath, I was just like all the others.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

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Stay is the thirteenth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Summer 2008 I started writing in English.
Dutch American Diary
Just like now, I was in love with two men. And just like now, they were both taken.
And – yes, just like now – I had no idea where life would take me.
This 2008 diary became the only thing that offered stability during a time where I had just left my partner after fourteen years and the two new men were driving me crazy.
A book about starting over in your mid-thirties and reinventing yourself as a lover;
As a woman;
And as a vengeful fury from hell.

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

These are my English titles:
Dutch American Diary 2008-2009 €15
LS Diary 2012-2013 € 10
Bedtime Stories 2014 €15
Mirage 2014 €5
Big, diaries and erotica 2015-2016 € 20
Get a 25% discount on all prices in the shop.
Select your store f.e. Nederland or United States
with the flag in the upper right corner.

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Pretender

Published on August 22, 2018August 22, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Lauren has DECIDED she’s going to be rich and famous as fuck.
The reason she’s finally getting her shit together is that she wants a chance to adopt stay-over cat M.
But also because having a career beats pondering over her miserable love life. But then the Universe gives her some real shit to worry about.

I heard a weird sound coming from the hall.
Initially I was going to ignore it because I was already half a day behind on my Master Plan to Fame and Glory, and I was in the middle of the third take of my Mistress video.
I had to keep my eye on the prize, which was a flourishing career as a writer.
The reason I was half a day behind on schedule, was that I had practically become physically ill, after yesterday’s blog post had taken me five hours to write.
Instead of the ninety minutes or such, I assumed things like this should take.
As a backlash from that I had been suffering pains in my body, in places that were not even supposed to have nerves as far as I knew.
After my body’s violent response to long hours behind the computer, I switched up my daily to-dos.
Instead of starting with writing, with then little or no time left for anything physical, I would start with making yoga videos, for my Dutch account/ my private yogastudio. It was a great way to reach more people, and to get fully booked.
But most of all yoga would help me relax, stay in shape, and stay away from the damn computer.
This process of shooting yoga videos was however not nearly as neat and tight as I expected it to be. And after hours and hours they were done but now I had to rush because I had a friend coming over, and still had to do grocery shopping.
By the time she left, I still hadn’t done any of the stuff I wanted to do for my writer’s account.
Not the daily video.
Not the daily blog.
And the entire workday, or what others would call a workday, was already gone.
Although I knew I would not be able to do all Key Activities To Success, I did think doing my mistress video was feasable.
But I didn’t get my story straight, and started over twice. Both when I was already at fifteen minutes or so.
After the yoga videos, I was now making a mess of this Mistress video.
And then I heard the scratching from the hall.
I wanted to ignore it.
So what if cat M had found something to scratch in the hall, right?
Because that’s what it sounded like anyway. No reason to get up.
But I did.
And it was not M: Someone was picking my lock.
In the conversation that followed I realized I didn’t know him, didn’t like him, and as far as I could understand the vague story, I didn’t believe him.
There were however aspects that won me over to assume, if only for a minute, that in theory, he could still be the temporary tenant from one of the other apartments. He said that he wanted to see the apartment.
I didn’t open the door, but I could see through the peephole. He had a set of keys that looked as if they were from a coorperation, including an original key to the front door.
“You may want to check that apartment,” I said.
With the number.
He was looking at the label on his keys.
“Okay, thank you. This number is unclear. I think that must be the right number.”
The other apartment was around the corner, so I couldn’t see it.
I put my head out of the window, and saw him leaving the building.
Enough time had passed for him to check the keys, but not to really “see” the apartment. If I had understood correctly.
“Did you find it?” I yelled.
“Yes, thank you!” he said.
I crawled behind my computer to check with our contact if they had given a new tenant a key.
“I m sure it’s all okay,” I lied.
And wondered if I still dared to go out at night, if I was coming home to a building where he could be lurking in our basement and hallways.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Want to know what happens next?
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on the right.
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Pretender is the twelfth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Material Girl

Published on August 21, 2018August 21, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Lauren’s creativity coach asks her what “Madonna” means, at the very root of Lauren’s drawing of a Creativity Tree.
And in the process, she sets off Lauren’s ambition to rule the world.

The biggest difference between Sara my creativity coach and my last business coach Warren, was that Sara first saw me dressed only in a pink bikini that couldn’t even be considered proper swimwear.
We had our first video call scheduled in the middle of a heat wave and the temperature in the house was over 30 degrees celcius. I immediately apologized for what no coach should have to see. Especially not on a first appointment.
But in retrospect, I think I sold myself short.
First of all because all my other coaches had been men, and I had never experienced any trouble with heterosexual men not enjoying a scantily dressed female body.
And secondly because we had now found “I have no shame” Madonna as the driving force behind everything I had done, or had aspired to be, since the age of 13.
With the exception of the times Madonna had been married and had cleaned up her act. During which we both went our separate ways.
“I never considered myself a fan in the eighties,” I told Sara. “I loved Madonna, especially Desperately Seeking Susan. But she was famous for six months or something, and then she cleaned up her act for Sean Penn.
Out of all people, right?
You clean yourself up for Sean Penn?”
But reinventing herself a lady had of course little to do with Madonna’s misbehaving actor husband. And everything with Madonna herself.
She wanted to be someone else.
It took until 1990 for me to get on the Madonna wagon, with the movie Dick Tracey and the controversial video for Justify my Love which in hindsight was the starting point of a five year long Sex Era.
And having stood by her then, I was so convinced she was my woman, that I even stuck through the Evita phase.
And the children’s-books-author- English-countryside phase.
Because eventually, she always came back to stripping down to her version of a tiny pink bikini, and stir shit up.
Sara and me deciphered that it had probably been Madonna’s shape shifting, which had caused me to miss out on spending the eighties with her, that had been the reason I worshiped the ground she walked on.
My desire to change had been why I had experienced teaching yoga as so limiting. I had felt I was being paid to stay the same.
Or to at least to let my change be small enough so that I would still teach the same yoga, at the same time, year in year out.
It wasn’t because I had not liked teaching yoga, that I had ended my career.
But because I had been doing it like everybody else.
If I were to ever return to making a living out of it, I would have to find a way to do it my way.
More like a performance, a series of classes with a certain theme or style. But just like a tour, it would always have to end. And there could never be any expectations as to what I would be doing next.
I needed freedom to start again.
And there was another similarity Sara pointed out to me. And she used a word that I don’t think even existed until Sara used it yesterday.
Sara pointed out that I had a nick for being sexually disruptive.
Oh my God! How cool is that!
And so true.
Indeed, I can be disruptive in many areas, and with regard to many things. But I am never more passionate than when I rock the boat of sexuality.
Monogamy.
Marriage.
And offer an entirely new idea instead.
My sexual orientation is that of a mistress. I have no doubt about that. Sexual tension and secrecy are requirements for me, and I desire to have only one partner. Those preferences can only be met as someone’s secret mistress.
So I AM THAT.
But my God what a great disruptive role to play!
Not only do I feel compelled to point out to other potential mistresses, that they should stop trying to fit into a box that is never going to fit.
But I also believe that as a society we need to put the mistress back into the equation, if we want to get long and lasting marriages.
The mistress, as well as the cheating husband, and even to an extend the betrayed wife, can all belong to the same bigger picture where everybody gets what they want, and nobody gets hurt.
Once we get passed the idea of condemning the mistress for what she is, we can train good mistresses that are a blessing to all.
So the disruptive part of my sexual orientation, really does come naturally to me. And it is no coincidence that I am most drawn to Madonna when she’s being sexually disruptive, and can feel myself moving away from her at times when she seems to be conforming.
And Sara also pointed out how I need the tension of my sexuality, or the angst it has been creating my life. I need it in order to write.
Happily ever after would be the end of the story, end of my writing.
“Maybe that’s why I continue to come back to the idea of a second lover,” I agreed with Sara.
“I keep having this idea that I should have two lovers. Even though it’s unpractical, and not a full fit with my sexuality. But it’s probably the writer in me who wants that.”
If I had two lovers instead of one, I would have double as much stuff to write about.
And a slimmer chance one would choose for me, and we would ruin the story.
We briefly talked about the fact that it was not ideal, to be dependent on men for my writing.
Which I described as:
“I write so much easier, if I know that at some point somebody is going to get laid.”
But there was one exception.
And this too had to do with Madonna being the root cause of everything I had called Life since when I was 13.
Because even though Madonna had forbid journalists to ask her about this all throughout the eighties and presumably most of the nineties as well;
And all those around her were not allowed to talk about it either;
In one aspect of my life, Madonna had been the only person inspiring me, up until I was way over forty.
Now naturally this was not sex!
As important as sex is in my life, as well as for my writing, I can’t contribute that solely to Madonna. I have been a sexual being from when I was five years old, or younger.
I was born for it, so to speak.
But the area where Madonna had been the sole inspirator, had been her ambition. Her career, which she had managed herself, when all pop stars from her generation had left it to their managers, to record companies and so on.
Madonna didn’t.
And she switched managers and labels, whenever she could upgrade going to someone else.
She was ruthless.
And she was also in total control.
Her ambition had been so blatantly obvious in everything she did, it didn’t matter that she didn’t speak about it. It showed!
And it inspired.
“When I think of making a career from writing, I don’t need men,” I told Sara. “It’s like, in 2006 I broke up my relationship, because I wanted to fall in love and have those experiences of first time sex.
And that’s when I started writing.
I wrote about what I wanted, and how I developed myself.
And ultimately, I got it.
So that’s why I know that if I set out to make a career out of writing, I can do it. And when I feel that, the reality of that, I don’t give a fuck if I have two lovers, or none. I am completely in the zone.”
And I showed her a page in my notebook, that I laid open on my keyboard every night so that it would be the first thing I would read every morning before turning on the computer.
“These are the three things I want to do every day.”
It was
1. write a blog post,
2. make a Madonna yoga video (Dutch account)
3. one hour of finance and sales activities.
“That’s it!” Sara said. “Own your ambition! Just like Madonna. Writing about being a mistress can bring you where you want to go.”
Where I wanted to go was circled with a bright red marker.
I had hesitated to show it to Sara, but ultimately I had.
Because it showed that this really was on my mind, and that I wasn’t bullshitting her when I said that my career made me so excited I even forgot my lovers.
The circled statement, that I had on my desk and that inspired me every morning before I got to work was:
“I DECIDE LS Harteveld is FAMOUS AND WEALTHY AS FUCK.”

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

PS! Starting today ->
Daily YouTube videos about being a mistress.
Subscribe here.

Want to know what happens next?
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Material Girl is the eleventh chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Lucky Star

Published on August 20, 2018August 20, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Lauren has opened up her palace to take care of a cat, M.
Who doesn’t want to be there.
But despite Lauren’s plea, M’s daddies refuse to pick up their stressed out gayby:
“Hon’, any midwife can tell you: Just carry on with your life as usual.”

I got completely stressed out from M not wanting to have anything to do with me. She had been a perfectly social cat when her daddies were still here.
And she had made daily dramas at home, for having to share her living space with male cats. But now that she was here she acted as if she’d been left with the witch from hell.
I decided I needed a nap.
Just as I was about to fall asleep, after a little fiddling with my phone, M crawled from underneath the bed, jumped on it, and stared at me with me pale light-green eyes.
M is a grey cat, but the official colour is either “blue” or “lilac”. She’s a beautiful Ragdoll with long hair and a round face.
Her full name means something like furry little creature.
Which is about accurate, except that Ragdolls are large. And M is overweight because she has been stress eating.
So she is by no means small.
It’s not the primary goal to let her lose weight, but it is expected that she will, now that she’s got a place to herself.
I was surprised that after 24 hours, M had apparently given up distrusting me, and was ready to start anew.
I petted the silky fur and started talking to her.
And tears started running down my face.
This was the first time since Max had died, that I had a cat in my bed.
M and Max shared the same soft hair.
I took my camera and shot a video of me and M cuddling, and sent it to my friends. They both responded independently from each other:
“Oh my God! She looks totally stressed out! We’re coming to get her immediately!”
Followed by laughing smileys with tears.
M however turned out to be a real diva, in the sense that she responded strongly to:
Me turning on my other side;
Or standing up;
Or opening the balcony door.
And just when I decided that I was going to stick to my guns and not tiptoe around the house, and clean the rug where she had been hiding under my antique bed, we had what will go down as Vacuum Gate.
I wanted to clean the rug in the corner she had been hiding.
She was presumably on the kitty litter box, because that was where I had last seen her.
And I had closed the bedroom door, assuming I was keeping her out.
I pulled the bed from the wall, and vacuumed the carpet, and then pushed the bed back AND SHE CAME OUT FROM UNDERNEATH THE BED!
Omg….
That wasn’t good.
Now I had violated her safe place, with her in it nonetheless.
She demanded I opened the bedroom door immediately, and hid under the couch.
Three hours later I had to leave, and she still hadn’t moved. She was staring back with accusatory glow-in-the-dark eyes.
The friend who I was about to see offered that I could stay home, if I wanted to please M and try be friends again, but I said I really needed a break.
I had been in the house for two days and the walls were closing in on me.
“I need a fucking drink,” I replied.
And I put on a pair of red high heels, stonewashed jeans and a red and white blouse, to convince myself that I was more than just an animal caretaker.
My friend complimented me on my outfit.
“I had to. I was starting to feel like one of those new moms. With baby spills on her clothes and such.”
I drank two wine, and became vaguely aware of men desperately trying to get our attention. On the way home I had a man shouting at me while hanging from a car window. And a full terrace of one of those Turkish coffee houses that only had men on it, got into a slight uproar simply because I had to wait on my bicycle at the traffic light.
And I made a note-to-self to remember this outfit.
Being in love with two men, and neither one of them making plans to see me, it wouldn’t hurt to bring out the big guns.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Want to know what happens next?
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on the right.
or follow Twitter ; or Facebook

Lucky Star is the tenth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Holiday

Published on August 19, 2018August 19, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

To Lauren, living alone with cats is the ultimate life-style. But she has a new roommate who doesn’t like the solitude of Lauren’s home one bit.
Someone with large green eyes and whiskers.

Yesterday, my friend Damian discovered my kitty vision box: a beautiful hot pink and black box that originally held a €200 tablecloth.
Not mine, I don’t even have a table.
It was now filled with the tangible memories of all my cats, such as their passports and the address tube from my first cat when I was still a teenager.
It also held a bracelet that I had bought for myself a month ago, that said Cat Mom.
I wore it occasionally when I was working behind my desk, to remind myself what the reason was that I wanted a career writing from home. Which was to provide for myself, and for my new cats.
To be there for them and to have the day to myself as well.
It was basically how I had lived for nine years, as single cat mom, until my last cat Max died in January. It had been years where I had fully embraced both the joys as well as the limitations of having cats.
I barely went on holidays, and cancelled them last minute if my cats got sick.
When Max died it would take at least a year before I could have new cats.
My career as a yoga teacher had slowly but steadily slipped downhill.
And we had an upcoming refurbishment from the housing corporation, where the house would be uninhabitable for a month.
So I had at least an entire year to myself, before everything would be cat-ready again. Yet the absolute last thing on my mind was a holiday.
I longed for my career to be figured out.
For the refurbishment to be over.
And to have new cats.
And that was eight months ago, and I’m still nowhere near figuring out point one, my career. It’s been a pretty wild ride, but currently I am no longer a yoga teacher, although for business purposes I do still own the studio, and do teach occasionally.
It’s all very new, but it looks like I m going to do pop-up classes that I plan only 24 hours in advance.
And teach privates.
It’s not a fulltime occupation, or income, yet I don’t have a business model in place for my writing either.
And I seem to have a dangerous tendency to recreate a job, or business model, that consists of things that I don’t really want to do.
That are not my strengths at all.
The past few weeks I ve been working with a creativity coach, which has led to the discovery that I have been “majoring in my minors”.
Instead of working starting with my inner world, and focusing on creating, I seem to automatically make a career out of being a guide to others.
First by being a yoga teacher.
Toyed with the idea of becoming a math teacher multiple times.
Added being a mindset mentor to my list of expertise.
With a spin-off to being a mindset and marketing mentor to entrepreneurs, writers and artists.
And now for my writing too, and my latest work there which revolves around being a mistress, I thought I would be helping mini-mes who were still in the dark about their sexual identity.
I even intended to start a new video series about being a mistress, on my YouTube channel. Which I immediately discarded when I realized I was putting myself “out there”. When my best work was created “in here”.
I am an introvert.
Teaching or guiding or being great company, or simply being company at all; might be available AFTER doing my purpose work.
However they are not, my purpose work.
I can think of jobs that are relatively “energy neutral”, so to speak. In the sense that although they are not my purpose work they won’t drain me of my energy.
But being a guide isn’t one of them.
Social encounters or endeavors are perfect to spice up my life or my work, but if they require planning, or are mandatory, or if they require my attention before the purpose work gets done?
Guiding sucks the life out of me.
And knowing that my new life began to take shape.
If I had it my way (and why wouldn’t I?) I would create whatever I wanted;
Send that out into the world , and not create for the sole purpose of serving;
Put on my coat and go to the movies or have a drink with a friend.
And I would have cats who could lie on my lap as I was writing, or walk over my yoga mat as I was creating yoga videos.
Just like the nine years prior, I wouldn’t need any holidays, because I was so content with my life, and loved to put the cats first.
And it was that dream life, that was embodied by the box with cat paraphernalia.
The moment I had put together the box had been really sad.
I had been decluttering and stumbled upon things like notes from the babysitter after she had visited Max; My description on which medicine he needed and how it should be administered.
Just in case I got hit in traffic.
And it made me so sad that my cats had died and that I had to go without cats, for God knows how long.
My professional life was nowhere near cat-ready.
And I cried and felt miserable that Monday night, but by collecting all the little things in a box, I was holding the vision that one day I would have cats.
And it manifested really quickly because on Thursday my friends asked me if I could look after their cat for a limited period of time. Because she seemed to be having stress from living with the other cats. And she was supposed to only eat diet food, but that was difficult to manage as they had multiple cats.
If she could live with me for three months, they would be able to see how she did eating only her preferred food, and without stress from the other cats.
And I would have a little feline these cold, lonely months.
But it’s Sunday morning now, and she has not left her spot under the bed since I got up.
She was still meowing and walking around like a real queen when my two friends were still here, and she did occasionally left the bed the first hours after they had left.
But since last night she has only left her spot under the bed, when I was asleep. She’s so quiet.
The reason I think having cats and working from home go hand in hand is because that’s the only way you can keep an eye on them, to see if they’re okay or if they want you to do something.
And this little lady is clearly not doing okay.
And the only thing I can do for her, is to get her home.
Apparently, she’s not too keen on holidays either.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Want to know what happens next?
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on the right.
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Holiday is the nineth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Borderline

Published on August 18, 2018January 9, 2019 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

On top of her game, Lauren feels fully confident she’s got it all under controle.
She’s a mistress.
And she’s good at it.
Until she makes a terrible discovery.

For the past four years, the most important objection from my friends, in regard to my mistress status, has been;
“But how can you do this to his wife?!”
This question always comes from female friends. Male friends tend to be totally undisturbed by that aspect. Naturally they have their own wives to worry about, and many of them don’t even become friends because the price of seeing me is too high, and the revenues too low.
You re not going to invest in secrecy, if you don’t know if you’re going to score.
And you’re not going to make a stand fighting for your freedom to have female friends, if you intend to sleep with me.
It would be like alarming the dogs, before you break into the house.
So although the “few” men who actually make it to a date with me, do have questions regarding my choice to be a mistress, it’s never how I work around my guilt over what I m doing to Big’s wife.
First of all, Big’s situation was easy because I didn’t know his wife. I do have one male friend, whose wife accidentally became a client of mine.
At that point I made her my priority.
And the friend and me reviewed our friendship, first checking in with her. If it had been necessary I would have chosen not to see him for a while, even though he is one of my absolute favorites.
So once I have a relationship with a woman, I will never get involved with her husband or boyfriend, not even for friendship if it would bother her.
But other than that I don’t feel guilty.
There are so many reasons this aspect of being a mistress doesn’t bother me.
The biggest chunk of it is that I don’t like (here we go);
Being part of a group;
And a group of women in particular;
I don’t like shared identities;
Not among women and not between man and wife;
I think most marriages are claustrophobic;
And that most women are mean to their husbands;
And that most men victims, who have lost their masculinity;
And what I do is basically set things straight.
I m the wolf that keeps the population healthy. And sometimes I don’t even have to do something.
I can recall multiple situations where the sheer presence of me, the thought of me (a beautiful woman wanting to date her husband) completely transformed a marriage, without ever going on a date.
Marriages that had been stuck for years were suddenly wide awake, now that there was another woman unapologetically offering herself to the male, and usually I really only had friendly feelings for him.
Although I would never say:
“PLEASE DON T MAKE SUCH A FRICKIN DRAMA I DON T EVEN WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH HIM!”
I think I kind of liked watching how it all played out.
That I saw it as a purge, as the two of them weeding out all the toxins that had been building up between them.
And I ve also witnessed couples that had been dating for a long time, and he had not committed and she was letting him get away with it, suddenly shifting into the highest gear, when she realized the space was being used to see me.
Then she would step up and show the pre-breeder stage she was already in. Waiting impatiently, but pretending to keep her cool.
You can’t keep you’re cool with the wolf around.
No one can!
And I m so happy to be the wolf, it’s the best part for sure.
So although Mr.Big is my only lover, my impact has been much greater than just his marriage. You could even say that Big’s marriage is least impacted by me. And the men who are my friends or at one point were about to become a friend, that those marriages or relationships were the ones that changed.
That’s the place where the herder is now watching the sheep like a hawk.
Or make the meadow really nice, so that the sheep doesn’t bother to graze somewhere else.
Or remembers to always go home.
Big’s marriage however, has not been impacted by my presence at all. They didn’t have conversations where my name came up, they didn’t reinvent their marriage.
He just got himself a little something extra on the side.
That he’s enjoying exactly as often as he wants to.
And I know – he never told me this explicitly but I could hear this between the lines – that during our affair he has become a better husband.
Because he has created his own solution for the moments he doesn’t feel loved at home. So that they can make up as soon as she’s ready, or they are ready. And he’s not holding on to anger.
If Mr.Big had not started taking care of himself this way, their relationship would have had many more bad days the past couple of years, than it did.
So that’s why I don’t feel guilty:
Because first of all, I believe this is Mr.Big’s choice.
I even believe it’s his bloody nature to need two women with whom he shares vastly different things, but that’s up to him and other men who have mistresses to tell that story. Not up to me.
The second reason I don’t feel guilty towards the wife is because like I said, I think Mr.Big’s marriage has improved with me on the side.
His wife may be lied to, but she’s getting the benefits, for sure.
An independent husband who takes responsibility for himself first, and doesn’t let himself be tamed. What a tremendous gift he’s giving her.
So no.
I don’t feel guilty.
For all of the above reasons.
However, on a practical level, I have been concerned with how being a mistress could be dangerous, because of the wife and public opinion, if this blows up.
The mistress is always the one who’s wrong, the villain.
In the movie Fatal Attraction this storyline is played out, by actually making the mistress into an aggressor. But I don’t need to be aggressive to make women hate me.
To justify being aggressive towards me.
Whether I sleep with their husband yes or no.
It’s the reason I m writing in English, and will never be on Dutch tv or such, speaking about mistresshood, even though I have SO MANY things to say about it!
But I’m not going to put my life on the line for this, I m really not.
I know what I am, right?
I want to inspire other women like me (who like mystery and having only one partner) to be a mistress. Because it can be done in a good way. You don’t have to create a blood bath with a meadow full of dead sheep.
Being a good mistress is something you can learn.
And I can teach you how.
Just like I can show men how a mistress can have a place in your life.
However, I am not going to give my life for this.
Like I said: it’s not my problem if your life is a blood bath with too many cadavers, if your husband is a spineless push-over, which you by the way created yourself; Or if you re consumed with bitterness and rage because life is not giving you what you want.
I did the work and I invested big time, in figuring this out. And the mistress does play a significant role in keeping everybody happy.
Yet, I still want to go to the supermarket without being bothered. Or hated.
So this work will be in English, and if I ever do media, it will be English too.
In English media I m this overseas, exotic writer, with her European ideas. Which is way less threatening, than someone who lives in the same country or even same city.
That way I try to limit the risks for myself.
But I can’t avoid risk entirely.
My biggest fear has always been that my current affair is going to get me killed.
If our affair would come out, 99% of women, and all men who want to stand out as a new candidate for Mrs. Big to date (now that her marriage has collapsed) will think it’s completely fair to turn their aggression on me.
The mistress.
And Mr.Big will be nowhere to be found, because he’ll focus on saving what he can from his marriage, and his relationship with the children.
I would have to face it alone.
That has been my biggest fear.
Now naturally, I think it’s worth it. But it’s one of the reasons why I would never go to bed with a married man, and take it lightly.
“Am I prepared to pay for this affair with my life?”
That’s my line of thought.
Always.
Now there are reasons why I believe being Big’s mistress in particular, includes this risk. Which may explain why I did something stupid…
Why I did an online investigation of Christopher, in order to find out more about him. Christopher and me have been friends in real life, but we never added each other on Facebook.
Nor do we have a shared circle of friends.
Christopher has ended our friendship, because I have confessed my feelings to him, and he doesn’t want to see me anymore.
But it doesn’t feel like the end of it.
It still feels as if some time in the future, I m going to be his mistress, or at least discuss this option with him in all seriousness.
Not to rationalize what I did, because obviously I should have waited screening him until he wanted to get back in touch, but I couldn’t help myself.
I had to know.
It took some time to figure things out, because both he and his wife had secure profiles. But I have a knack for Facebook, and Google photos did the rest.
And there it was.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
The wife of Mr. Big, the affair that was already putting me at risk of being lynched, was linked to the wife of Christopher. Both were serving the same public cause: a powerful organization that presented itself as charity, but there were persistent rumors that it was tied to sectarian practices.
Including burning down everything that stood in their way, in a variety of ways.
Intimidation and blackmail.
Lawsuits and bribes.
Some say murder.
If I would have an affair with Christopher and it would blow, his wife would have the same powerful organization backing her up, as Mr.Big’s wife.
And possibly?
Mrs. Big and Mrs. Christopher, would also find each other.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Want to know what happens next?
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Borderline is the eighth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Physical Attraction

Published on August 17, 2018August 17, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Lauren seems unharmed by Mr.Big’s wishy washy behavior, as well as Christopher’s decision to not see each other anymore.
She feels comfortable in her own skin, being a mistress.
Without knowing if she’s a mistress to anyone in particular.

Ivy was one of the friends who responded personally to my post where I got put on hold by both Big and Christopher.
The deep-dive after a five day rollercoaster ride where I had finally understood how my feelings for these two men had been disrupting my life from the deepest layers of my soul.
Like low whale noises, you’re not supposed to hear, but that had vibrated my entire life out of place.
Until I found myself between the ruins, and with two men who said they didn’t know if they could still see me.
And yet after the initial shock, I had not felt a thing.
If I looked in the mirror I saw a blushing, happy woman, as if I just had sex. Which was accurate because I did have sex with Mr.Big.
But we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.
“Mr.Big always withdraws when he’s not feeling well,” Ivy pointed out to me. “He thinks you’re in it for the good times.”
“I’ve told him a million times that I would still love him if he was old and poor,” I sighed. “So that would be pretty stupid.”
But of course Ivy was right. That was what Mr.Big was thinking. And I couldn’t have picked a worse moment to crack open my monomaniacal devotion for Mr.Big, by falling in love with Christopher.
It was hurtful.
But it had been like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Mr.Big’s apparent lack of interest had started months and months ago.
Marginalizing our contact to sixty, ninety minutes instead of the magnificent dates we used to have.
In his defense: he was always fully tuned in to me, and a joy to be around.
The sex was less groundbreaking than it had been, but that had to do with how little time we had for our date.
Not because the intimacy or the desire for each other had not been there.
So nothing was ruined between us, as far as I was concerned. But my heart had found a way to fill the void he left.
And it couldn’t be undone.
A month ago I recorded a cute video (Nederlands), where I asked the Universe for a second lover. I had been quick to dismiss it as a silly idea, and had only posted the video because it had become a tradition that I made an annual video about me and Mr.Big in the Ferris wheel.
I didn’t actually thought having a second lover would be the solution to anything.
I was unsure if my body would even respond to two men.
But what strikes me now if I watch that video is:
You can SEE IT!
I’m in love already!
I might have missed the two giant whales, swimming and vibrating their voices deep down into my subconscious:
One a familiar voice who seemed to be needing time alone.
And one new whale who I thought was there …. by chance I suppose! That it was just a good whale season or something.
Who knows what I was thinking.
But if you see that video, you can see I m practically high on love hormones. That the whales were impacting me greatly, even as I was recording a video that said:
“I need a second whale.”
Baby, it’s already there!
Look down!
A month has passed since then, and the first whale Mr.Big still needs his time alone. And the second one Christopher has said we can’t see each other anymore.
“I don’t understand why I still feel so good,” I said to Ivy. “My position with Mr.Big is critical as fuck, and I can’t do anything about it.”
And I wasn’t going to contact Christopher either. I was fully going to honor his desire to not see each other anymore.
Yet I felt like putting my hand into the water to let them know I was still here.
“It just doesn’t feel over,” I admitted.
Referring to Christopher.
Ivy shook her head, and said this would not be the end of it.
“That ship has sailed.”

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Want to know what happens next?
The subscribe button to this diary is somewhere on the right.
or follow Twitter ; or Facebook

Physical Attraction is the seventh chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

I Know It

Published on August 16, 2018August 16, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Lauren feels the best she’s felt in weeks, even after Christophers rejection and Mr.Big’s persistent unavailability.
Which could be explained because she had sex with Mr.Big. And also, because she can be really proud of herself!
Because she did the right thing.

One of my favorite movie lines is from Brad Pitt.
In Thelma and Louise, his character JD is living hand to mouth, hitchhiking across Texas posing as a student.
And he robs gas stations and bed partners alike.
But Thelma doesn’t know that she’s gonna pay for her time with him. Still intrigued with his honesty that he robs stores, she asks him how he does it.
JD grabs a hair blower, holds it like a gun, and gives a little performance. Practically charming himself through the armed robbery.
“My gosh, you sure gentlemanly about it,” Thelma says.
At which he replies:
“I’ve always believed if done right, armed robbery doesn’t have to be a
totally unpleasant experience.”
And I can now say the same of being a mistress. I can charm my way through it, without causing unnecessary damage.
Naturally I felt horrible yesterday. Within five days I had gone from realizing I was in love with two men, to basically being rejected by both.
Mr.Big was battling his inner-demons and we were as undefined as ever. Maybe worse.
And Christopher had decided we couldn’t see each other anymore.
Which was not that bad, since I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to be a mistress again.
After three and a half years I knew exactly what the pitfalls of Mistresshood were. And although I was still convinced that I was a mistress by nature, as far as anyone can pinpoint a sexual orientation, that didn’t make it easy.
But the way I had handled my crush on Christopher had impressed even myself.
I had proved that affairs didn’t have to be a painful ball full of conflicting emotions and interests, the way it had been at the start of my affair with Mr.Big.
The ball could be unravelled.
An experienced mistress could control the damage, because she knew what she was doing. In the words of JD:
“It doesn’t have to be a totally unpleasant experience.”
I knew for sure, that although what I had done may have seemed like a small thing, warning Christopher about my feelings for him was in fact huge.
It was the difference between robbing a liquor store, and traumatizing people for life; Or leaving them baffled, and with a good story to tell.
I had asked consent. And at a very early stage, not when emotions were flying high.
Because it would have been soooo easy, to just ask Christopher out on a new date. Or stage a new situation where we would be spending time together. And then make him fall in love with me, or offer him an opportunity to act on his feelings.
But I had chosen not to.
Instead I had said:
“You need to think about this, before we see each other again.”
And he didn’t want to see me again, and he told me why.
He didn’t owe me an explanation, but I appreciated it that he told me.
There is a law in several countries, making sex illegal unless you have asked for consent. I think what’s wrong with that law, is that it misses out on the most important thing: a shared vision of where you want this to go not now, but in the future.
One of the things Mr.Big once told me, was that he did ask for consent. Explicitly. Not just that he would not rest until a woman was actually begging in five different languages to be taken. He didn’t say that, but I know that’s how he works.
That was the easy part.
When he was about to have sex with someone, he explained to her that this would very likely be only for one night. That he wasn’t available for more.
And that she had to think about it, if that was enough for her. Because otherwise they could also just cuddle up and go to sleep.
And sometimes a woman had then chosen to not have sex, and that had been completely fine.
So maybe in the end, it was Mr.Big who taught me the true meaning of consent. That asking permission, or getting consent, or feeling what somebody wants in the now are only the beginning. That a good lover takes responsibility for the future.
“Do you still want to proceed if this and this might be what happens next?”
When I started dating Mr.Big I had made jokes that I was now playing in the Major League of dating. That this was where the strongest players were. Where hearts were broken, lives were ruined, but also the place where the biggest of pleasures and the greatest of victories would be our rewards.
It was not a place for pussies, so to speak 😉
But although I realized there was a lot of foul play going on, and that we were all playing to win, there were still several players who insisted on playing by the rules.
Mr. Big.
Me.
And we would protect the newbies, anyone just entering the game, until they had decided if they wanted to stay. And we’d help them get their defenses up.
We were fair players, and that’s what we taught others.
Each in our own way.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

If you want to receive the next blog post though, the subscribe button is somewhere on the right.
or follow Twitter ; or Facebook

I Know It is the sixth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie

Think of me

Published on August 15, 2018January 9, 2019 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Feeling sick with a mixture of worry, excitement and butterflies in her stomach, Lauren goes over to see her lover Big.
She will not eat any of the food she brings.

I rang the bell to the apartment, unclear about what I was going to say, or even hoping for.
Just that I knew I was in even worse shape than when I had texted Big that I needed to see him.
But what story was I going to tell Mr.Big?
Xavier had “warned” me that my feelings for Christopher, that I was afraid were going to influence my relationship with Big, were probably not mutual.
The reason I use quotation marks on “warned”, is that I wasn’t bothered by them not being mutual. Feeling sick to my stomach and losing 2 kilos in a week because I couldn’t eat, was a situation I longed to end. Preferably by Christopher saying it wasn’t mutual!
And because I was already feeling horrible anyway, and because I had Big’s date to keep me occupied while waiting for Christopher’s answer, I had sent a post-midnight email to Christopher.
I told him what I thought had happened in June.
And that I was aware my feelings for him had changed.
If he didn’t have any feelings for me, and still wanted to see me, that was perfect.
In all other cases, we either needed to have a clear plan, or end things now that we still could.
It was 2 AM when I clicked send, and I had thrown up twice during. The email had been two A4, but I edited it until I had two paragraphs that were clear, and to the point.
They were not manipulative, or seductive in any way.
It was actually written in a way that he would only say “Yes” if God, The Universe and the powers that be, left him no other choice.
That’s how much resistance I felt at the thought of being someone’s secret mistress again. Or simply being part of the stress of another family.
Xavier had been wrong my biggest fear was that it wasn’t mutual.
My biggest fear was that it was.
And I wanted my life back…. my playfulness. My joy.
It had been difficult to keep my spirits up, the years that me and Big had been together. But the past months it had been a downright disaster.
Oblivious to the awakening feelings for Christopher, as well as pushing down the fact that I was getting only marginal attention from Mr.Big, I had not been holding the course.
Simply because there was no course to be held.
Everything was falling apart, and I had no idea what I was aiming for.
Not sure on where I wanted my business to go.
And now that I was aware that the two men had been playing such an important role beneath the surface, I didn’t know what I wanted with them either.
I had always felt loyal to whatever Big’s agenda was.
If he didn’t want to see me, I assumed that was necessary for him.
And I felt the same loyalty towards Christopher.
My email to Christopher had not been to influence his feelings in any way, and had made it clear that I didn’t want to continue our friendship, without making a conscious decision on this.
There was nothing more I could have done.
And now I was going to have a breakfast date with Big. I had brought condoms, but sex was the last thing on my mind.
I was also afraid that if we had sex today, when we had discussed such an important topic, that our sex would be bad.
And that it would prove to be our last time together.
That had been my experience with other lovers.
The last sex had always been off tune. Weird. Like we were acting, pretending sex. Both feeding our own imagination, or lust for it.
And the only time when “last sex” had been good, I had found out nine months later that there had already been someone else. That destroyed any good memories about that time, and him, as well.
With those guys the only thing I ever remembered was that last time, of awkward sex. The rest had all blurred out.
I didn’t want that with Mr.Big.
Despite carrying condoms.
Mr. Big opened the door and I was so happy to see him. I felt drunk on having had maybe three hours of sleep. But he was jetlagged and probably hadn’t had much more.
He was clean and fresh, wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Apparently he intended to stay in, or maybe he didn’t want to intimidate me wearing his suite.
He made us eggs and coffee, and had no milk in the house.
Like usual.
We sat at the table. As he was having breakfast, and I was having my coffee, black, I talked. I told him everything. Who Christopher was, what had happened, and that I had no idea if the feelings were mutual, but that I did know that for me they marked the end of an era.
The era where my feelings had been exclusively for Mr.Big.
And then I did something that I had never done in our relationship.
I asked “the question”.
First I took him back to late 2015, to the only time when he had opened up to me.
I had accidentally ran into him at an event, and he had been drinking. We went to his place, and lied on the couch, fully clothed.
I was lying on top of him, our eyes were locked and my tears just kept running.
I could see into his soul.
It had been the only time when he had said he loved me, but he had said it a thousand times. And that he had thought about leaving his wife to be with me.
“Really?” I had asked him. “I had no idea you thought about us that way.”
“Of course I do,” he said. “I m not an idiot.”
That had all been years ago and this time I had to know.
“Why are you not choosing for me?” I asked. “And why have you been neglecting me? Do you want me to go?”
I tried not to sob because I wanted the truth.
Much to my surprise he did make an attempt to answer the question. Much of it was predictable, such as me not wanting to live together.
And of course my writing, which would require working around, for privacy reasons.
But all those things had already been discussed in the past.
What was difficult to digest for me, was that there had been changes in his family situation that he had not told me about.
There had been a time window, or opportunity, where he could have chosen to see me more. And he hadn’t.
If it had not been for the fact that I had felt so clearly, on all occasions that we had been together, that he still deeply cared for me, I would have interpreted everything he said in an entirely different way.
But I felt a deeper truth, than the words he was now speaking.
I had felt, every time, that there had been love for me.
It cost me tremendous effort, to not feel I was constantly losing from his wife. To not make this into something competitive, and to feel into the fact that love was not a finite thing. Not something that needed to be rationed between people.
But it hurt none the less.
A lot.
And I so wished I had never asked, and could go back to going on intuition. To feel what he felt for me, not hear his own interpretation of it.
Which seemed to be filled with doubt.
I started sobbing uncontrollably, and said that I had expected him to give a clear answer that could help me. That he either wanted me to go away, or that he needed time to think if he wanted to choose for me.
“I guess this is just the way we are,” I cried. “You’ve never given clarity. Of course you’re not going to give it now that I need it. With the Christopher story.”
I don’t know what happened after.
Just that we melted together, and that it was the most intimate, sexual experience we ever had. It was a strange mixture of crying, and really nice, simple sex. Doggy style even.
On my request.
With me standing, leaning forward with my hands on the bed, and he was behind me.
We were using a condom, and he came from fucking. Not from oral sex, like usually. It was short and sweet. And not awkward.
When I left I told him to take his time, and that I would be okay. If Christopher and I would kiss or something, I would tell him.
If he didn’t hear anything from me, it was good news.
When I came home I found Christopher’s email.
It was a rejection, what I had described to Big as “good news”.
But at that moment the grim reality of where I was in life, the feeling that I had effectively been trying to avoid for months, sank in.
And it wasn’t good news at all.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

I think this will be the final chapter for now…
I feel empty and can’t imagine what I could possibly write about.
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Think of me is the fifth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

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De volgende Nederlandse boeken
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Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

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Everybody

Published on August 15, 2018August 16, 2018 by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

After a night of insomnia and stress related complaints, all uncomfortably similar to warning signs of a heart attack, Lauren craves to end the suspense before it’s killing her.
She would like to tell everybody she’s in love with Christopher.
But unfortunately, no one can know..
She confides in her most discrete friend; Xavier.
But things do not go as planned.

I knew right away that I had made a mistake telling Xavier about my crush on “Christopher”.
Xavier had never told anybody about my affair with Mr.Big, but appeared to be irritated that I was about to add another secret to the pile.
It went down so badly, that I didn’t even tell Xavier who Christopher was. Even though I had intended to.
Assuming that the whole thing wasn’t fueled by jealousy, which was perhaps the wrong assumption but okay, the biggest accusation was my arrogance that I thought it was mutual.
“Why are you so convinced it’s mutual?” Xavier asked.
I truthfully replied that feelings like that are felt by both parties.
“Really? You have never heard of love not being mutual?” Xavier snarked. “That is an entirely new concept to you?”
I didn’t answer that. First of all because since Xavier didn’t seem to be expecting an answer. And secondly, because my thoughts on this would have infuriated him even more.
Which was that in my experience men were at a disadvantage here.
Women could feel a man responding. And therefor the chances that a woman developed feelings for a man who were not returned, were extremely slim.
It was one of my biggest frustrations that men couldn’t feel that.
Men would keep signaling that they were sexually interested in me, and appeared to be dumb, deaf and blind to the fact that I was not sending anything sexual back.
When I first told my mother about this, I had actually been the one roaring in contempt:
“I’m like: I know you want to sleep with me! Just have the decency to hide the damn thing”
My mother shook her head and said:
“No… this is something else. You want to have meaningful conversations with your friends. If a man is only interested in making you compliments, you lose interest.”
Losing interest had proved to be an understatement, because it irritated me greatly. But otherwise she was right.
But then again so was I.
I didn’t care if a friend wanted to sleep with me, as long as we clicked on a soul level AND he had the decency to hide his feelings from me until he felt – I still wasn’t ready to go with the Neanderthal version where men were not be able to tune in and read me – that they were mutual.
Then, and only then, my deeply-connected-on-a-soul level friend was allowed to do something really cute.
Like take my hand.
While being fully tuned in to how I was responding to that gesture.
Or my friend could say something so meaningful that it made me cry.
And offer me a box of tissues but definitely not a hug.
Or if a friend felt that I liked him, he could offer to help me with something practical.
Like fixing my bike or painting my studio.
Someone who was not helping, was Xavier.
“Is it Warren?”
Xavier had turned my revelation that for the first time in four years, I had feelings for a new man, into a common guessing game.
Warren was a senior business coach whose services I had used, when my yoga business seemed to come crashing down. After setting a clear boundary with Warren, that he was no longer allowed to give me advice, since I wasn’t paying him anymore, we were now sending each other art house film tips.
Which wasn’t that easy since I knew jack shit about art house films and didn’t particularly like them either.
Secretly I did hope Warren and I could become friends.
But by now I was getting a bit pessimistic of finding anyone who understood me. Aside from my own mother.
“No, it’s not Warren,” I sighed. “And I m not going to tell you who it is.”
I was so angry at Xavier for being so unreasonable, that I was going to punish him by withholding him the story.
Yet I was still convinced Xavier was the right man for the job of being my confidante.
The first time I met Xavier, I thought he was a criminal, because he was revealing so little about himself. I was fascinated by him, but didn’t start trusting him until he got into a relationship and I saw he had a soft side.
Despite our clash today, Xavier would be my backup, if Christopher ever became more than a friend. Because I needed someone to know the truth, should anything bad happen to Christopher or to me.
And I also needed someone to tell sex stories to, if they were still so fresh that I couldn’t write about them.
And in that area too, Xavier was a forgiving listener.
Xavier’s ranting was annoying, because it meant I couldn’t share my story today, and would maybe suffer another night of heart problems;
But Xavier’s behavior was not a sign that he could not be trusted.
As Frodo said when trying to figure out Strider, or Aragorn, in Lord of the Rings:
“If he was one of the enemy, he would look fairer and…well, feel fouler.”
Xavier did not feel foul.
After my slightly disappointing date with Xavier I went to the yogastudio. I had originally intended to choose for my writing and quit teaching yoga altogether, and had spent two weeks making arrangements to transfer the studio to someone else.
Only to come to the conclusion that it was much more practical if I kept it on.
The reason was that in order for my writing business to be fully functional, and not wanting to share my house address with the Chamber of Commerce, I had to have a business location.
And because I didn’t need another office or writing space because I wrote at home. So the location I would rent may as well be a yogastudio.
At least I could make some money back on it.
So now I was busy making arrangements to cancel all cancellations, take all the posts down that we were closing, think about my new offers, and debrief all potential candidates that the studio was no longer on the market.
I would no longer offer a full studio program, nor work nights:
But I did intend to start teaching privates and a few small classes.
Back at the studio, I did the dishes and cleaned the floors, and planned the rest of my day. I asked a friend if she wanted to join me for a film Warren had recommended.
And she did, so that was cool.
Mr.Big had not replied to my A.M. text. Which was so disappointing. I really wanted to see him. Our affair was going through a rough time. This year we had had sex on several occasions, but our meetups were almost random encounters.
He barely made time for me.
Not that the sex was bad, not at all. And sometimes we even saw each other without sex.
But we were nowhere near to the wonderful dating routine we had in place for about three years prior. Where he would cook me dinner, and we would play sex games that stretched body and mind so to speak.
The graphic images of what we did, and all the stuff I would still want to do with him, just haunt me these days.
I started masturbating on something other than Big. Other men or specific situations with anonymous, faceless people.
The reason I put in so much effort into pulling my solo-love life away from him was because our love life was already so fragile, with Mr.Big being so unavailable. I didn’t want my imaginary sex life to only feature him.
I had to have a set of sustainable masturbation fantasies, that would stay unharmed if he ever broke up with me.
Or if, which was more likely, he just stopped calling me, and dating me. And months later I would realize I had been dumped.
Enough reason to not let Mr.Big monopolize my mind.
But after a good start of reinventing my self-pleasure routines, I had regressed back to what it had always been.
Fantasy sex with Mr.Big.
At night I saw the friend and it was so great to see her.
I told her what had happened between me and Christopher.
Not as specific as I could have done with Xavier, but it was nonetheless soothing to be able to tell the truth. To share how Christopher had given me space in that elevator, in that crucial moment when Christopher and me had been in a confided space for the first time in our friendship.
Standing in the back of the elevator and leaving the doorway and the control panel to me.
“Do you know how many men screw that up?” I asked the friend. “That they stand too close, or use the elevator as an excuse to come too near?”
She’s fifteen years older than I am, and her past has been way more adventurous than mine.
Of course she fucking knew.
“He’s a real man, Lauren,” she said. “You got yourself a real, mature, man.”
It was my second art house film within a week. And this film too, was way too dark for me.
Two movies about men obsessed with violence was definitely too much.
And no one got laid.
I got home right before midnight.
When I took my phone out of my handbag, I saw I had a message from Mr.Big.
“Hi Baby Bee, Sorry to read you’re not doing well. Of course you can come over. My plane just landed, and I ll sleep at the condo. Would you like to come for breakfast tomorrow? Love, B.”
Maybe someone was going to get laid after all.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

To find out what happens next (I would like to know too!) follow this blog. The subscribe button is somewhere on the right.
or follow Twitter ; or Facebook

Everybody is the fourth chapter from Project M.

tenth anniversary of the book that changed my life!

Als je Nederlands bent is 22 erotische verhalen een aanrader.
Maar je kunt natuurlijk ook gewoon de hele shop leegkopen.

BOOK SHOP

De volgende Nederlandse boeken
zijn ook op voorraad bij boekhandel de Feeks in Nijmegen
verzending gratis v.a. € 17,50

Het Boek Benjamin € 45
verzameld werk NL en Engels.
Het enige boek dat hier niet inzit is Witte Tijgerin, dus mijn andere Nederlandse boeken zitten hier wél in.

Mango €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen € 15
literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin

Witte Tijgerin €5
gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie