I'm back from Mid-Atlantic Leather, the veritable MAL. I could be blogging for days about my experiences, but I don't got no days. So I'll throw out some vignettes now, and add to them as I recall them over the next few days.

Here is the central metaphor: For me, MAL is like a jacuzzi. I ease in. My heart rate lowers. My pupils dilate. I float along. It's one of the few roadtrips I take that doesn't leave me feeling like I want a vacation when it's done.

I'm struck by the fact that the Centaurs, the motorcycle club that stages the event, must give hours and hours of time all year long to pull off this event. And, like medieval monks, they largely work in anonymity and obscurity. Now, ostensibly, it's a charitable endeavor, but basically what they're doing all that work for is to throw a party for other members of their community. Name me another community that devotes so much service without looking for self-promotion or making money.

I packed up all my whips and floggers, and purchased two new floggers and a whip (an 8-foot bullwhip with a 2-foot fall, my first long whip, it's beautiful). I used none of them. I was sort of thwarted at every turn. Boys backed out or failed to materialize. On Saturday, it seemed that people and events all conspired to prevent me from doing a scene that seemed like a sure thing. On Sunday night, I was feeling pretty grumpy about this. And then I had a brief conversation with Lolita that put it all in perspective. She said, "It's not about that. It's not a play event. We're staying in hotel rooms. There is no dungeon set up." Oh. Right. It's not about that. It's about meeting new people, reconnecting with old friends and acquaintances, and deepening relationships. Play can be a part of that, but it's not the point of the goings-on. It's about community and connection. Once that sort of sunk in, I was back to floating along. The Leather Community is a small, mid-western city. Pretty much, we all know each other. Some better than others, but the faces that you see at the supermarket and the Fourth of July parade and at Viv's Luncheonette are all familiar faces, and there are lots of people you know and know about even though you've never spoken to them beyond, "Hi, how goes it?"

So after Lolita's words of wisdom sunk in, I was at peace with the paucity of flagellation. This was the last night of MAL. I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel, taking it all in, and up he walked, with a sweet smile on his face. He started gently massaging my body, every part that he could get to, anyway. It felt wonderful. Sublime. I got so relaxed. I started returning the kindness. Of course, me being me, I focused my attention on his back. And, me being me, I started to slap it, first lightly, then, when his body language signaled that he was enjoying it, with increasing force. His back reddened. Like the sun coming up. I worked harder. "I bet you are really good at flogging," he said. "I love to be flogged." So we pretty much did a little scene--a scene-let, if you will--right there in the lobby. I love to play in public, the feeling of the crowd disappearing, leaving only him and me. There was connection, there was intimacy, there was gratitude flowing both ways. I would have hustled him up to my room and taken my floggers out of the toy bag, but it was 2 a.m., and my energy was pretty depleted, and Past President was busy. But that was fine. Trust that the leathergods will take care of you, and they will.

At Afterwords Cafe at KramerBooks, they had on the menu a Trent Lotte. Separate but equal parts of steamed milk and espresso, that were combined before drinking. Brilliant.

My sole phobia is a fear of snakes. Past President pointed out to me that that means I have a lesson to learn from snakes. And isn't it interesting that I love whips, and whips look just like snakes?

More to come. Unless events in the days to come prove to be more interesting. My sincere gratitude goes to Past President, Sweetheart Sir, Almost Bruiser, Lolita, the Man Of Whom It Might Be Said That I'm Awfully Fond of the Ground on Which He Walks, and the men of Leather Navigator too numerous to mention that made the past four days so wonderful. Thank you all.