#aw fuck chat we might have a Mr. enter situation on our hands

[ifwebefriends]

Y’all I actually can’t remember if COVID-19 is canon in the Sherlock and Co universe

[pettyprocrastination]

Rip Out Our Seams and Stitch Us Together

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

Chapter Five

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Profanity, mirror sex, choking, kind of face-fucking? a touch of voyeurism, oral-male receiving, penetrative sex, Mean Maxwell fuckin’ lmao, office sex, angry sex, how in God’s name did we get here I am horrible at writing smut so i just want to say i’m SORRY. 

Chapter Summary: You take the measurements for the richest family in D.C, Valerie is surprised by her how quickly her son has taken a shining to you and Maxwell has a late night at the office. 

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @cinewhore @this-cat-is-dea @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @favoriteff-allcelebs @teaofpeach

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/

“The Lords are coming by tomorrow.” Cassandra looked up from the book open at the register.

“But Mrs.Lord was just in yesterday.” She told you.

“Not just her this time.” You finished off the seam on the ground in front of you as you spoke. “All of them are coming in, her husband and son, the whole gang of rich folk will be here.”

Ever since Valerie stepped into your shop late at night four weeks ago, she made herself a common visitor. Oftentimes she’d waltz in, plop herself down onto a chair and begin to complain about Maxwell’s secretary with the horrid voice or one of her friends who was less of a friend and more of a pain in the ass. 

You didn’t know how becoming the friend of a heiress meant her throwing herself into your lap everyday to gossip about other rich people but hey, you weren’t complaining. She was pretty good company when the dust settled. 

Three days ago she had called your store, and told you she, Maxwell, and Alastair would be coming in to get measurements taken so you could get the mock-up of their outfits done with their approval to move on to the finished version. 

Before she could say anything else you had asked about her son. 

“What does he like?”

“What?”

“What’s he like?” You asked, as you spoke your hand picked up the needle once more and began to hem the dress in your lap. “You know, DuckTales, Transformers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve got some stuff I always bring out when kids come into the shop but I don’t know how rich kids work. Do I just hand him money and call him sir?”

“Ha ha.” She droned. “You know if life as a seamstress doesn’t work out, you should pursue a career in comedy, you’d flourish.”

“Aw Val, I couldn’t!” You cooed. “You’d miss me too much.”

You heard her scoff on the other line. From across the store Cass looked at you like you’d sprouted a second head. 

“Nonetheless.” She said slowly. “Alastair isn’t into traditional children’s activities. He enjoys chess with his tutors, reading, and playing the cello.”

You fought the urge to ask if these were things he liked to do or things his parents wanted him to do. 

Maybe rich kids were just built differently.

“I’m just calling to tell you certain adjustments must be made for my son.” She explained, in a tone so formal you hadn’t heard it since you first met her. 

“Uh sure.” You sat up, concerned. “What do you need?”

 “Certain textures make him extremely uncomfortable for clothing, so be aware that the lining will have to be a soft, smoother material.”

You sat back, observing the swatches already laid out in the backroom. You could grab a few more of softer materials for him to feel and see which one he liked the most. You already assumed as such, since he’s a kid and you remembered how much you hated wearing your church dress because of how itchy it was. “ Anything else need to be done?”

“He can get overstimulated if places are too loud or crowded at times, but since your store hardly has any customers in it.” You could hear the smirk on her face over the phone and groaned. “I doubt that will be a problem.”

“It’s my pleasure to be of your assistance.” You snipped. A moment of silence passed between the pair of you. “But uh, seriously. Don’t worry about it. I’ve made clothes for kids and people with touch aversions before. No sweat.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out. “Really Stitches, I appreciate it.”

At her praise your lips curled into a soft smile. “It’s no problem Val. One question though.”

“Yes?”

 “Who the hell names their kid Alastair?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that Stitches, I’ll see you tomorrow.” A dial tone met your ears and you called out to Cassandra. 

“Do we have a chess board in the back?”

---

Valerie walked into her son’s room, clearing her throat so both him and his tutor looked up at her. 

“Alastair honey, can I talk to you for a moment?” The boy, only eight, nodded and closed his workbook before standing. The tutor however, shot a hand out to grab her son’s shoulder. 

“Mrs. Lord.” The tutor, a man graying at the temples who wore ties so bland she’d rather wear a nose, shot her a condescending smile. “I thought we agreed on not interrupting Alastair’s lessons. It’s bad for his focus.”

“Mr. Lanston.” She shot back in the same sickly sweet tone as she tapped a manicured nail against the wall. “Who’s house is this?”

The man swallowed. “Mr.Lor-”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head side to side as if scolding a dog. “For a tutor you seem to be quite fond of giving out the wrong answers. So I will ask you again, whose house is this?”

The tutor shrunk back. “Yours.”

“Correct. And who is it that you work for?”

“You, Mrs.Lord.” He said meekly. 

“Correct again! Now since this is my house and it is my son you are teaching, I will speak to him if I please. And if you try and insult my son’s intellect by saying a simple chat with his mother will throw him off course, I will throw you out onto the street. Do you understand me?”

The man’s mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water. 

“I asked you a question Mr.Lanston.” Her hand tapped against the Cartier watch on her wrist expectantly. “I expect an answer back.”

“Of course Mrs.Lord.” He stammered out, before turning to her son who just barely came to his hip. “I’m so sorry Mr.Lord.”

“That’s okay.” He answered simply, before taking his mother's hand in his and walking out of the room. 

Alastair Lord was eight years old, had his mother’s bright blue eyes and his father’s dark brown hair (Maxwell visited a hairstylist regularly but would never admit it). He had already skipped a grade but his parents insisted on keeping track of his studies, even during the summer. Maxwell did it in an attempt to feel less guilty about being stuck at work all day instead of  being with his son, Valerie did it so nobody would ever get the chance to use her son’s intellect as a weapon against his own standing. 

The Lords didn’t agree on much. But one thing they did agree on was that they loved their son more than anything in the world. 

“Do you still want to go to the gala with us in September?” She asked him. Her son’s eyes flicked out to the large glass window that proudly displayed their immaculate lawn, a bird flew along the clear pane before flying up and out of sight. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll go.” He said simply. He squeezed his mother’s hand in his with a small smile. “I like going to those fancy parties, you always wear pretty dresses.” He frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I don’t like it when those old ladies try to touch my hair and kiss my cheek though.”

Alastair hated physical affection from those he didn’t know. The last business party of Maxwell’s he went to, a man’s wife tried to give him what she thought was a friendly kiss on the cheek because he was “such a darling little boy!”. Alastair ripped himself away from her in a panic, to which she then got offended and insisted to speak with his mother about his “awful manners.”

When Maxwell came to find his son clinging to his mother’s leg with tears in his eyes, he promptly had the couple thrown out and cut off business ties with the woman’s husband on account of her awful manners. 

From then on Alastair’s parents made sure he knew that if he was uncomfortable with a situation, he was to tell them and they would put an end to it immediately. 

“Your father and I are going to go see a seamstress to get measurements done for the gala. Would you come with us so we can get a suit made for you as well?”

Alastair looked up at his mother, blue eyes shining and ultimately passive at her question. 

“Sure.”

------

It was late at night when he came into his son’s room. Alastair was already in bed, nuzzled under his sheets and head resting against his pillow. Maxwell gently rapped his knuckles against the door before entering, his son’s eyes blinked open. It was always a shock how much they looked like Valerie's. 

“How’s the tutoring going?” Maxwell already knew the answer, Alastair excelled in every subject, but he simply wanted to hear his son speak to him. 

“Good.” His son replied. “Mr.Lanston said if I keep studying hard I might be able to skip another grade.”

Maxwell sat on the edge of his bed. “Would you like to skip another grade?”

Alastair was already a grade ahead, his teachers would message his parents about how well behaved and smart he was. But Alastair hardly ever spoke about his own experiences at school, about his friends or anything other than his classes.

“I don’t know.” the boy shifted for a moment, furrowing his brows in frustration and it was moments like this that he truly did look like his mother. “Mr.Lanston says it’s good for me to stay ahead of other but-” He looked off into the window of his room, a small sliver of moonlight peeking through the blue curtains. “Fifth grade sounds kind of fun, I heard the history teacher is really interesting and takes us on fun field trips.”

Part of Maxwell, the part still drilled into his head by his mother, nagged that he was sending the boy to that school to learn not go on ridiculous field trips. The other part of him, the part that shone when Alastair called him dad, felt guilt when he saw how apprehensive his son was in telling him how he felt.

Maxwell smiled, reached out to ruffle his son’s hair that was damn near a carbon copy of his own (before he got it dyed of course). “Then you’ll stay right where you are champ.”

“Thanks dad.”

The older lord frowned, before sternly pointing a finger at his son. “That’s Mr.Dad to you, young man.”

His son promptly groaned and threw his blanket over his face. “That joke still isn’t funny!” Even at his disgust, Maxwell could hear his son’s muffled giggles through the blanket and smiled.

“Humor is subjective, son.” Maxwell stood up from the bed, knees popping loudly as he did. Jesus, he was getting old. “Goodnight Alastair.”

Maxwell was already out of his son’s room and halfway down the hall when a tiny voice peeped out. 

“Goodnight dad.”

-----

“So what exactly does his son like?” Cassandra stood at the register, head laying in the palm of her hand as she leaned against the counter. The back room had been set full with different fabrics for them to see and either confirm or reject. Which in the classic Lord fashion meant they will either toss it at you with a stiff “this will do” or tell you it’s the ugliest thing in the world. 

You sighed. “Apparently he likes to read, play chess and the cello.” You looked toward the old checkers board set out and shrugged. “That was the closest thing I had so lets hope he isn’t as stuck up as his father or dramatic as his mother.”

“Speaaaaking of which.” Cassandra looked up with an excited grin. “You and Mrs.Lord are like, best friends now right?”

You thought about all the times she paraded into your store before throwing herself into the nearest chair (or your lap) before complaining about her day like a soap opera star. 

“Well I wouldn’t say best friends, but we’ve certainly gotten closer.”

“What’s she like? Has she taken you shopping? Have you seen her house? Is she as mean as everybody says she is?”

You pulled back for a moment, thinking. “She’s nice for a rich lady, no we haven’t gone shopping and I don’t think we ever will, I haven’t seen her house which once again I don’t think will ever happen, and honestly she insults me a lot but I think it’s her way of showing affection at this point.”

Cassandra giggled. “Like a cat?”

You thought about a cat- a fickle creature that will hiss and scratch in one second, and then demand all of your attention right after. 

“You know what? That’s actually a pretty spot on comparison.”

The jingle of a bell met your ears before a stern voice sounded out. 

“My god do you people not know what a broom is?”

You turned around, watching Maxwell enter your store with a crinkled nose. 

“I know what a broom is well enough rich boy, why don’t I go get one so I can shove it up your-”

Cassandra cleared her throat loudly before motioning to the tiny child at Maxwell’s side. 

“Oh, uh-” You realized the boy must've just seen you threaten his father. “Hey little dude. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” The boy responded. Alastair’s voice was just as tiny as he was. He had his mother’s eyes and father’s nose, but his hair was so dark it made you wonder which one of his parents bleached their hair. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mam.”

Prim posture, perfect manners, not a single hair out of place. He struck you less as a kid and more as a robot but you bit your tongue before smiling back. 

“No need for fancy titles with me, little lord. You can call me Stitches.”

Alastair wrinkled his nose, a gesture that made him look so much like his father you wanted to laugh. “That’s a weird name.”

Valerie tutted at her son, blue eyes cast down in disappointment. “Alastair! Don’t be rude.”

“He isn’t wrong.” Maxwell waved off his wife’s scolding of their son. “Besides, I believe we came here to get actual work done on whatever horrid outfits you're making for the gala?”

“Of course.” You turned on your heel, leading them to the backroom where multiple mirrors lined the wall. “I’d hate to take up too much of your time. You’re a busy man after all, I’m sure you’d rather be off making your secretary cry or something equally as important.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes and shucked off his jacket, ignoring the twinge of annoyance he felt at even the mention of his secretary, someone you didn’t even know grated him so horribly. 

“Well we can’t all run rotten, hole-in-the-wall shops like this that just beg to be robbed.” He turned a sly eye to you with his nose tilted up. “Some of us have standards after all.”

You smiled. “I suppose you're right about that one Mr.Lord, I doubt my skills will live up to your expectations.” You wrapped the measuring tape around his bicep, using it to tug him so close his powerful facade melted into one of shock. 

“And yet-” Your voice curled in his ear like a tempting call, your eyes so focused on taking note of the measurement of his arm Maxwell hoped you didn’t hear his breath catch. 

“-here you are.”

Valerie looked up from the fabric swatches in her hand to notice the way Maxwell stared at you while you were blissfully unaware. It was hungry, surprised and oh so desperate. The same way she looked at you. 

All while you busied yourself with his measurements, unaware of the inner workings between the billionaire and his wife. 

Valerie was pulled from her head when her son handed her a swatch of fabric, a royal blue in color and soft knit against her skin. 

“This one is nice.”

She smiled at her son. Out of the corner of her eye she saw you wrap the tape measure around her husband’s chest. She reached down to playfully tug on the collar of his shirt, also a deep royal blue. 

“You’ll look lovely in it sweetheart.”

The conversation between you and his father was not nearly as loving.

“Do you have to play such obnoxious music?”

You didn’t bother to look up at Maxwell when he snipped back, you simply focused on the tape in your hands and the measurement of his chest which only made him even angrier. 

Obnoxious, what a perfect word to describe you. 

The shirts, the tattoos, everything about you was just so...loud. 

His eyes flicked forward when he felt your fingers ghost over his chest. Mirrors lined each wall, most likely so your customers could see what the clothes looked like on them from each angle. But as you leaned down to measure his inseam, his thoughts went other places. 

Places they definitely shouldn’t have with his wife and son in the same room. 

“Do you have to wear such disgusting cologne?”

Maybe it was your attitude, such defiance nobody openly showed him in fear of losing their job, or the fact that you were so different than the tucked in, prim-and-proper future trophy wives he fucked, or maybe it was simply the fact that your ass looked phenomenal in those jeans, but Maxwell couldn’t help but imagine fucking you in front of those mirrors. 

He wondered if you’d be loud, head thrown back and calling out his name as he fucked into you without mercy, without care. Maybe you’d be shy, you were so stubborn after all. Perhaps you’d bite your lip, trying to keep your noises stifled so you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he made you feel. Maxwell wouldn’t allow that of course, he’d never admit it but he liked having his ego stroked almost as much as his cock. He wouldn’t hesitate to grab your jaw, forcing you to look forward at yourself in the mirrors. 

‘We’re the only ones here.’ His breath fanning out over your neck would make you shudder as you stared at your reflection just as he did. Seeing the way your tits bounced with each thrust and the ways your legs trembled and shook like those of a newborn. His pride swelled at the notion that if his arm wasn’t wrapped tight around your waist and gripping you close, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now. 

‘Let me hear you.’ He grunted into your neck as your whimpers got louder until you were all but shouting his name. ‘Good girl.’

“It’s revolting really.”

The sinful painting in his mind was torn to shreds when your haughty voice cut through it like a hot blade. 

He blinked owlishly, you stood in front of him, tape measure no longer against him but thrown over your shoulder while you crossed your arms. 

“What?”

“Your cologne.” You explained with a smirk. “It’s like trying to take measurements in a chemical factory. A little goes a long way Maxwell.” You gave him a sarcastic pat on the shoulder, one he was too distracted to push off because the way his name rolled off your lips. 

You had never said his name before. 

As quick as the interaction was, you turned to Valerie and Alastair, both sitting at the table behind you. You smiled and held a welcoming hand out. 

“You ready little man?” 

Alastair looked at his mother, who nodded her head and he slid off his chair to hop onto the pedestal his father previously stood on top of. His father took a seat next to his wife who said nothing. 

They both watched their son raise his arms as you held up the tape measure to him with a smile, you were saying something to him, most likely about school or his summer break. Valerie appreciated when you asked her about his interests to make a connection, but knew that was less than likely. Alastair wasn’t one to make connections, something she wondered if he got from his father by instinct or something that was drilled into him by his grandmother. 

Before she had been banned from coming to their house. 

“I’ll be working late tonight.” Maxwell told his wife. He knew she didn’t really care, their marriage was ten years of working late nights. Telling her at this point was just a courtesy. 

“Will your secretary be working as well?”

Maxwell noted the sly dig toward Delilah, but didn’t care enough about the woman to defend her. 

“If she wasn’t I wouldn't have hired her.”

Valerie ignored her husband in favor of the scene in front of her. She watched as you held the tape to her son’s leg, nodding your head as he spoke at length while you took his measurements. To say his mother was surprised would be an understatement, he hardly talked to his parents. Let alone people he’s only just met. 

Maybe something about you just brought out that side of the Lords.

“Alrighty, you're all good Alastair.” The youngest Lord hopped off the little step and you looked toward his mother with a jut of your chin. “You're up, Val.”

Maxwell looked toward his wife with a raised brow, mouthing her nickname in confusion. She was too busy taking your hand as you stepped onto the pedestal to notice. 

“So-” You wrapped the tape measure around her waist, mindful not to let your hands linger. “-how the hell did you two make such a sweet kid like Alastair?”

Valerie smiled at your reflection and ignored the way her heart jumped when you pulled the measuring tape just beneath the swell of her chest. “I’m not sure if that was an insult on my parenting or my personality.”

“Oh definitely an insult on your personality, without a doubt.” You responded seriously, but the tilt of your lips lent it to a gentle tease. “You must be doing something right because that kid is better behaved than you and your husband.” You looked up for a moment and she held her breath. 

“Or should I be giving this praise to some poor underpaid nanny you torture?”

Valerie scoffed. “Oh please, Miriam is hardly underpaid and she doesn’t do a damn thing right. I don’t know why we keep her around these days.”

You snorted. “Miriam?” The tape measure pressed to the side of her hip as you measured down her leg. “God, you people really tic every box off the one percent checklist, don’t you?”

Valerie hummed, painted lips curls into a smile. “We try our best dear.”

You stood up straight, hands moving behind her to wrap the tape around her chest with an awkward cough. Even as you willed all your focus on the numbers of her measurement you couldn't help but feel your face grow hot. 

“How unlady-like.” She murmured, you didn’t look up to meet her gaze but the smug tone in her voice gave it away. “At least buy me dinner, Stitches.”

You chuckled and spared a glance up. 

What a fucking mistake that was. 

Blue eyes stared you down like you have been presented on a silver platter and the richest woman in D.C. wanted nothing more than to devour you right where you stood.

“Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“I’m sure I can make an exception.”

You realized Valerie was alot like the sun, you couldn’t look at her for too long without needing to look away. 

You stepped back to write her measurements down and put your hands together. 

“I think you folks are good to go.”

You just hoped you wouldn’t end up burned. 

Maxwell stood up and scoffed. “About damn time, some of us have real work to do instead of twiddling our thumbs and sewing little dresses.” As he walked by, his eyes flicked over yours in a poisonous glare and his shoulder knocked against yours with his son following behind him like a little carbon copy.

You looked toward his wife, who looked just as surprised by the worsening of her husband’s mood. 

“You’re one lucky woman Mrs.Lord.”

“Believe me I know.” She leaned forward to whisper with a wink. “But I know a few things that’ll brighten him up no problem.”

You scrunched up your face and pushed out every image that surged into your mind at her implication. “Okay gross, didn’t need to know that but thank you.”

“Always my pleasure Stitches.”

The door shut behind Valerie as she walked out to their car, throwing one last wink over her shoulder before sliding into the backseat next to her son while her husband slammed the passenger seat door behind them. 

“Well-” Cassandra looked over at you with a surprised expression. She must've noticed the fact that Maxwell had seemed to be pissier than usual, you did as well but assumed it was because of some deal that went sour at work or some type of rich people shit you couldn’t even fathom. “-his son seemed nice.”

“Yeah.” Their car turned a corner and disappeared from your line of sight. “They aren’t exactly the fucking Brady Bunch though.”

------

“Daniels-” Maxwell adjusted his collar in the rear-view mirror as he spoke. “-swing by the office. I need to go over some papers for a meeting I have tomorrow. Then take Valerie and Alastair home.”

“Of course sir.”

The driver turned left. 

“Mom?”

Valerie looked to the boy at her side. “Yes sweetheart?”

“Can I come with you the next time you see the seamstress?” Valerie looked toward the passengers seat, where her husband sat just as shocked as her. 

“You want to go see Stitches?” Maxwell asked. “Again?”

His son nodded, too young to realize how surprised his parents were by his answer. 

“She’s funny and nice and she doesn’t talk down to me like other people do.” Alastair looked up at his mother, nervous at her lack of response. “Is that okay?”

That seemed to snap Valerie into action. She smiled and took her son’s hand in her with a loving pat. “Of course sweetheart, Stitches would love to have you around.”

The car came to a halt in front of the Chimtech Consortium building, which stood tall, even against the grit and grime of the busy city streets

Maxwell stepped out of the car before ducking his head into the window. “I’ll be home late tonight champ, alright?”

Alastair held no disappointment nor resentment to his father for the time he spent at work but it didn’t make Maxwell feel like any less of a shit father. 

“Okay dad.”

Valerie leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain in her wake. “I’ll see you tonight darling.”

Maxwell smiled. “Don’t stay up too late waiting for me dear.” He took a step back, watching the car drive out of the sight of his building before he frowned and wiped the lipstick off his cheek, which in turn left a red mark on his jacket sleeve. 

“Damn that woman.”

The moment he entered the lobby, people seemed to pause before greeting him, none of which he gave a response to. It wasn’t until the elevator door shut that he took a deep breath. 

Breathe Maxwell, you’ll run yourself ragged this way. 

A tiny titter behind him made him realize he wasn’t alone in the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye he could see brown leather shoes that he’d wouldn’t be caught dead in. 

“What’s your name son?”

The boy gaped for a moment before he found his voice. “Michael, sir.”

The door opened with a soft Ding! And Maxwell stepped out before turning to face the young man. 

Wiry frame, tall, yet hunched over out of pure insecurity and refusing to meet Maxwell’s eye. 

He was definitely an intern. 

“Well then Mikey-” Maxwell noticed the way his head snapped up as he spoke. “Get me a coffee and bring it to my office, just the way I like it.”

The intern squeaked out a quick “of course sir!” before the doors shut on him. 

Maxwell wondered how long it would take for ‘Mikey’ to realize he never told him how he liked his coffee or where his office actually was. 

He turned sharply around a corner, taking note in the sea of cubicles he passed, every employee pausing to whisper and watch him march past without speaking. The sound of marketing calls dissipated as he grew farther away from the flurry of lower rank workers. Huddled cubicles were replaced with sleek halls and grand windows showcasing the city view. When his eyes landed on the dark brown door at the end of the hall he nearly wept. 

Sweet sanctuary. 

 His hand had just curled around the silver door knob, the final obstacle between him and sweet sweet isolation when a shrill voice broke out. 

“Oh!” Delilah squeaked, jumping up from her chair with surprise. “Mr.Lord, you're here!”

She definitely should’ve noticed that he had gotten here earlier, given that she was his fucking secretary. 

“That I am Delilah.” Maxwell answered gruffly, eyes flicking over to the stack of papers on her desk that she would no doubt forget to file. “I do run this company after all.”  Before she could respond with some ass-kissing compliment, he walked into his office and shut the door behind him. 

Maxwell rolled his shoulders back, undoing the blue tie around his neck as he sank into his office chair with a groan. He spent more time in that chair than his own bed at this point. 

Truth be told there wasn’t much that needed to be done at work today that couldn’t be done tomorrow.  He had no meetings for another three days and he’d worked himself ragged the past few days to play catch up, now he was more than ahead of the game. He simply needed to be alone, to clear his head a bit.

But try as he may, he couldn’t calm the rambling stream of his consciousness no matter how hard he fought. When he opened his eyes again and spared a glance at the clock on his desk, he realized thirty minutes had passed since he first sat down. 

Maxwell groaned, threading his fingers in his hair and pulling in frustration. 

Why can’t you get the fuck out of his head?

That bratty attitude combined with your god awful sense of style should've made you repugnant, somebody he couldn’t stand the sight of and didn’t see as anything worth the metaphorical shit under his eight hundred dollar shoes. Yet here he sat, hunched over in his office plagued with your voice saying his name like a challenge over and over in his head like some sick chant. 

Maxwell ran a hand through his hair, setting each strand into place before he pressed the button on his desk and spoke with authority. 

“Delilah, could you meet me in my office?”

Only a few seconds later, she came scurrying into his office with poorly hidden excitement. 

“Yes sir?” That was one thing he hated about her. 

The fucking voice. 

It wasn’t her voice on it’s own, but it was the way she made her voice sound. She made sure to always talk softly, forcing herself up to a higher octave to sound sweet and submissive like a flute when she really sounded like somebody stepping on the tail of a cat. 

But her boss wasn’t interested in her voice to begin with. 

He pushed his chair out from under his desk by a fraction and unbuckled his belt. 

“Knees.”

She was quick to find her way between his legs with a sultry smile. 

“Did you miss me?”

Maxwell scoffed. “Hardly. Now do something useful with that mouth before I start looking at new hires to take your place.”

The smile disappeared and she looked down, uttering out a small “Yes Mr.Lord” before she took his cock into his mouth. Maxwell let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, head falling back with a relaxed hum. His eyes shut as his mind, always his enemy, began to paint a picture he had been longing for all day. 

You sat on your knees between his legs, moaning while you ran your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

You seemed like the type to tease, he didn’t doubt that. But he enjoyed teasing just fine, as long as he was the one doing it. Maybe in the form of a toy nestled between your legs while he held a remote, turning it on and off with no pattern just to see you whine and buck your hips like a bitch in heat. 

His hand knotted itself in your hair and pushed you further down on his cock with a grunt. 

“That’s it.” You whined as your head bobbed up and down, tongue hot against his veins while the coil in his stomach wound tighter and tighter every time you moved. “You take it so well, just like that.”

A nervous knock sounded against his door. Maxwell’s eyes snapped open before they narrowed into angry slits. 

Christ, he just couldn’t catch a break today.

Delilah let out a muffled squeak and pushed herself off of Maxwell’s cock before his hand pressed down on the back of her head and bucked his hips against her open mouth.

“You make a noise or move an inch off of my dick-” His voice was even and ultimately unbothered as he spoke to her. “-and you're fucking fired.”

Delilah made a whimpered garble against him, he assumed it meant ‘Yes sir.’

“Come in.”

The door creaked open and in walked the same intern from the elevator, just this time with a Styrofoam cup in his trembling hand. 

Son of a bitch, the kid actually did it. 

“Well color me surprised Mikey, you came through.” 

The boy set the coffee on his desk, completely unaware of the woman crouched under the desk, deepthroating the seemingly unbothered man sitting before him. 

Maxwell took the coffee into his hand, taking a tentative sip before his face scrunched up. Just as he did, Delilah gagged loudly against him, causing Michael’s eyes to go wide as he looked around for the source of the sound. 

God he hated black coffee. 

“A touch too bitter for my taste, but gold star for effort kid.”  Maxwell's hand snaked under the table to push Delilah's head down another inch or two. Her nose was now nestled against the hem of his dress shirt, and he could feel her struggling to maintain the position by the way her throat flexed around his cock.

Good. Maybe that would shut her up.

“Next time try a dash of nutmeg.”

“Nutmeg?”

“Yes, nutmeg. It’s a nice wake-up in the morning. But for now that will be all.” Maxwell motioned to the door, to which the boy nodded and bowed his head like some servant. 

“Of course, have a good day sir.”

“You too kid. Make sure to shut the door behind you.”

The intern all but sprinted out, Maxwell felt his pride swell knowing even after he complimented the intern, he was still scared shitless of him. The moment his door clicked shut, he gripped his slobbering secretary’s hair by the root and wrenched her off his dick, leaving her to sputter and cough with tears in her eyes. 

“I suggest you make yourself useful, Miss Harris.” Maxwell slid his jacket off his shoulders and onto the chair behind him. He pulled a condom out of his pocket with a frown that never seemed to leave when she was in his presence.

 “That poor intern already knows where my office is and how I like my coffee, you might be out of a job soon enough.”

Delilah wiped the spit from her mouth and grinned. She stood on shaky legs in those horrendous kitten heels before pulling up her skirt and bending over his desk. 

“You could never fire me sir.” She groaned, gripping the desk like a lifeline when Maxwell entered her and began to thrust without giving her time to adjust to his size. “You’d miss me too much.”

Maxwell, still buried inside her, scoffed. “And what exactly would I miss Delilah? The cold coffee? The missed memos? Or you coming in late and thinking I don’t notice?” With each question he thrust in and out, in and out, a harsh unforgiving tempo that his secretary should be used to by now.

She arched her back with a squeaking moan. “No, you’d miss this pussy. Nobody fucks you like I do Sir.” The final string keeping Maxwell together, the one that everybody seemed to tug and pluck all day finally snapped when Delilah her next words. 

“Not even your bitch of a wife.”

Maxwell’s hips halted their assault against Delilah’s freckled skin, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the back of her head, the pregnant pause filled the air that made Delilah realize right as the words passed her lips she had fucked up. 

She gasped when his hand wrapped tight around her throat and pulled her up off the desk and against his chest. 

“Talk about my wife again, go ahead.” Maxwell growled out, Delilah opened her mouth but no sound came out as his fingers squeezed tighter and tighter around her throat until her face went from pale white to bright red, the cold metal of his wedding band cut into the soft skin of her neck, the pain hopefully proving to be an effective teacher . “I fucking dare you, you even mention Valerie one more fucking time and you’ll wish you never pulled your lazy ass through that door to apply for this goddamn job. You understand me?”

When he loosened his grip she nodded rapidly, taking in a shuddering breath. She looked over her shoulder at him, legs trembling and a pout on her swollen lips. 

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out, voice hoarse from his dick and only made worse by his temper. His hand slid up her back before pushing her down on the desk where her body slammed down on the hard wood.

“I don’t care.”

Maxwell slid out of her before ramming back into her dripping cunt with zero grace, continuing to do so as his hands gripped her hips hard enough that he would surely leave behind bruises come the next day. 

He thought about the way the same bruises would look on your hips.

 Your neck.

 Fuck, your chest. 

Hearing you moan his name like a plea, a chant to God but Maxwell was one being worshiped. All the bite you showed him at work would melt away when he slid inside you with a groan. His fingers digging into the plush give of your ass while pounding into your sweet pussy that gripped him like a fucking vice. 

“You love it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hair unkempt and falling in front of his eyes. “You fucking love it don’t you?”

You nodded numbly, gripping onto the table and just barely managing a weak moan. Maxwell’s hand came down on your ass in a stinging slap that made you shout.  He didn’t care who outside his office heard you, Christ himself could be standing outside and that wouldn’t be enough to pull him from you.

“You speak when-” Maxwell groaned, doubling over your body and rutting into you like an animal. “You speak when you're fucking spoken to.”

Your back arched as his voice growled out against your neck. “I love it.” You fingers dragged against his mahogany desk that shook with each thrust. “I love it so fucking much.”

“I fucking know you do.” His hips stuttered against yours, hot waves of pleasure threatening to crash over him with every thrust, every bounce of your curls and every sweet coo of your voice. “You were made for just my cock, just for me. Weren’t you?”

“Just for you.” You panted. Your knees knocked together as he pushed you into the desk more with each selfish thrust of his cock. “All yours max, only yours.”

Maxwell’s hand slammed down on the table next to Delilah’s head as he came with a low groan. Delilah, feeling her own high slowly retreating, whined. 

“Max please.” She begged. “I’m so close please just-” she squeaked at the feeling of her boss pulling out of her in record time as he cleaned himself up. 

“How many times to I have to fucking tell you, address me as Mr.Lord or Sir-” his eyes cut down at her trembling form. “-or don’t bother speaking at all.”

Delilah pushed herself off his desk with a weak nod. 

“Yes Mr.Lord.”

“Send a reminder to that archaeologist for this Friday.” Maxwell had already fastened his belt and taken seat at his desk once more, plucking the now disarrayed papers off the cool surface and shuffling them into a neat pile in his hands. He read them while he walked over to the bookshelf raised on the wall 

“She seems like a ditz and I want to make sure this meeting doesn’t fall through.”

Delilah frowned, tilting her head to the side. A gesture some men may find charming if they were ten years younger and didn't run a fucking company that this idiot woman worked for. 

“Archaeologist?”

“The mousy one that works at the museum.” He reminded her. “If you don’t remember at this point, that’s your own fault for only paying attention to the things I say when you’re on my dick.” Without looking up from the papers in his hand, Maxwell waved a hand in the direction of his office door. 

“That will be all.”

Delilah bowed her head, whether to hide the bright blush on her face or angry tears, he didn’t know. And quite frankly? 

He didn’t care. 

He was already focused on the papers he skimmed, deals and mergers that could break other companies while making him a richer man. 

At least that’s what he told himself while your voice was playing in his head like a broken record. 

Angry, brown eyes left the paper to stare at an unopened bottle of whiskey on the shelf that stared back at him. 

A wedding gift. 

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on him as he forwent a glass and drank straight from the bottle in hopes of drowning all thoughts of you. 

The bottle was halfway empty when he gave up.

[motherlifesucher-archives]

Roman Holiday l Shawn Mendes Imagine.

(a/n): in honor of Shawn (hopefully!) taking his first Grammy home tonight!

prompt: Shawn & (Y/N) know their relationship is sinking fast, but they deny it in front of the cameras. 

Today marked four years since they started dating.

A lot had happened since then...

They were young, just starting their careers. Now, he was a Grammy-nominated artist and she had recently become an Emmy and Golden Globe winner actress. 

They were able to hide their relationship for five months before they were caught sharing a kiss in the line of security on LAX.

Everything was perfect during the beginning. They had managed to balance their work life with their relationship and actually making it work. She’d be constantly traveling to wherever Shawn was playing, since most of her job was situated on Los Angeles. 

Almost two years after they started dating, they decided to move in together, buying a beautiful apartment in Los Angeles. People said they were moving too fast but they didn’t listen, they knew they were going to prove people wrong because they were in love. 

Until things became harder...

They didn’t want to acknowledge it at first, but people started to point out how they didn’t smile or hold hands when paparazzi got pictures of them doing simple things like getting groceries, and all of a sudden pictures stopped coming altogether. 

Their families and friend started getting worried about their relationship, but they just denied it. She always repeated that Shawn was very focused on his new album, while Shawn told people his girlfriend’s life had gotten even crazier after becoming an award-winning actress. 

And people bought it. 

They never wanted for their relationship to become something they could profit from, but they were too far inside to negate that their relationship was a benefit for their careers. 

It made people like their instagram posts from each other. It made people talk about them. It made brands like Calvin Klein wanting them on their ads.

Breaking up just wasn’t possible, so they couldn’t admit to themselves that something was wrong. 

They just grew apart. 

With time, calls grew distant and colder. Posts about each other became rare and they disabled the comments so people wouldn’t voice their opinions on how they weren’t the same couple they knew from the screen. 

-

She couldn’t help it but feel like something was missing as she walked on her own the red carpet of the SAG Awards.

“You look stunning, what are you wearing tonight?” The interviewer asked gesturing your light pink suit. 

“Of course this beautiful creation is from Louis Vuitton,” She smiled to the cameras like she was used to. 

“I can’t help but notice your boyfriend is not here, does it feel any different?”

“Oh, absolutely! Sadly he’s London at the moment, but even if he’s not here, I know he’s with me and I just love him so much,” She said never losing the smile, and she internally celebrated when the interviewer awed. 

“You two are so sweet. Congratulations on your nominations! (Y/N), ladies and gentlemen!”

She waved one last time before entering the venue. She took a glass of champagne and checked her phone, sighing when there wasn’t a trace of Shawn. Not a message, not a call, nothing. 

They had gotten too good at lying to the world. 

And themselves.  

Shawn sighed when he heard the door being closed and a suitcase being dragged. 

They were going to be home together for the first time in months. 

He wanted to run and kiss her as he had done many times during the years, but he knew it wasn’t possible. They had barely talked over the last month. 

He shyly made his way to the living room, where she was standing with her suitcase. 

“Hey,” He greeted his girlfriend. 

“Hi. Sorry, did I wake you?” She said taking in his disheveled look. 

“Oh, no. I was just laying on the couch,” He mumbled. “Congratulations,” 

She raised her eyebrows, “For what?”

Shawn internally cringed. “For the SAG. You totally deserved it! And I saw your acceptance speech, thanks for mentioning me,”

“Well, you are my boyfriend, aren’t you?”

Silence filled the room as they stood there, avoiding each other’s eyes. 

“I think there’s something lacing that question,” Shawn said and let out a dry chuckle. 

“Are we having this conversation now?” She asked quietly, finally looking at her boyfriend in the eye. 

“I think we are...”

She slowly made her way to the couch, not wanting to look at Shawn, because she tried to understand the reason behind how things changed so quickly, but she didn’t have an answer.

“Isn’t this supposed to happen to every couple? It’s a rough patch, so what?” She said and Shawn shook his head.

“This is not just a rough patch. We’ve been lying to everyone, and by doing that we broke us even more. The only reason this,” He gestured them both. “Is so fucked up is because we spent months pretending everything was fine, we held hands in public but we weren’t capable of acknowledging each other when we were on the same space. You thanked me after winning an award and I haven’t done shit for you in months!” Shawn quickly escalated the conversation. 

“it’s not like we had a choice, Shawn...”

“We did have a choice! We could’ve stopped faking and fix things, fix us. That’s what should’ve mattered, not putting on a smile while we were falling apart!”

“Do you know how much shit happens if we break up?”

“We shouldn’t give a crap about that, (Y/N)! That’s the point. We got lost. Our relationship didn't start because it brought attention to us, it started because we wanted to, and we’re here because we love each other. I know it seems hard to believe right now, but I do, I love you so much it kills me to not see you or talk to you,” Shawn said with clear pain in his voice. 

“Do you think I don’t love you? I missed you every second, and I miss us, and I'm scared that we’ve damaged our relationship forever. It hurts me that we put the entire world first instead of everything we have, because you are everything I have,” She blurted out, trying to swallow the tears. 

“I don’t think it’s too late to fix this, to fix us,” Shawn muttered, taking a step closer to his girlfriend. 

“I don’t want to give up, I love you.”

She took a final step and circled her arms around his waist, hiding her face on his neck. 

He could feel the tears making their way down his neck, but he didn’t care; not when he had her in his arms. 

They had a tough road ahead, but they hoped love was enough to overcome everything.

“We have Shawn Mendes here tonight at the Grammys red carpet!” Ryan Seacrest greeted. 

“Hi,” Shawn sheepishly greeted at the camera. 

“Congratulations on your nominations, you completely deserve it!”

“Thanks, man,”

“I gotta say you always bring something new to the red carpet. Who are you wearing tonight?”

“You make me feel so much better,” Shawn said laughing. “I’m wearing custom Armani Privé,” He looked down at his navy suit.

“I saw (Y/N), why isn’t she her by your side?” Ryan asked, making Shawn chuckle. 

“She decided to skip the red carpet. I miss her by my side, but she looked so breathtakingly beautiful that we both decided it was better for her to not steal the spotlight,” Shawn jokingly said, making Ryan laugh.

“I took a look at her and you are absolutely right. You might be the best looking couple tonight, maybe from the entire awards season!”

“Oh, I'm flattered! Thanks, man!”

“Shawn Mendes, everybody!”

Shawn politely answered more questions before it was time to enter the tent were catering was displayed and different celebrities were mingling. There he spotted his girlfriend, happily chatting with Camila and Bebe Rexha.

“Hey babe,” Shawn approached her from behind. He greeted both of his friends before resting his hand on his girlfriend’s waist. 

“Did you miss me?” (Y/N) said playfully before leaving a kiss behind his earlobe. 

“I don’t think so, you know I love the attention on myself,” He said lightly squeezing her waist, making her squirm.

“You two are so disgustingly cute, I want my boyfriend now,” Camila said jokingly. 

“I think I’m gonna start heading inside. This dress is impossible and I don’t want to disturb people while seating,” Bebe laughed while managing her beautiful puffy red dress. 

“I’m actually going backstage. I’m really rooting for you,” Camila hugged Shawn before following her manager and publicist out of the tent. 

“Should we head inside or find some place to make out?” Shawn suggested, earning a soft slap on his shoulder. 

“I think we are saving the latter for the comfort of our home,” She smiled and squeezed his hand. 

Shawn swiftly walked down a flight of stairs to leave the tent, extending his hand for his girlfriend. 

“You are such a gentleman, Mr. Mendes,” She carefully ran her hands down his perfectly styled hair. 

The ceremony started and they patiently waited for the best song category to be announced. 

Time stopped as they opened the envelope. Her hand was tightly squeezing his sweaty ones.

“And the Grammy goes too... ‘In My Blood’, Shawn Mendes!”

Shawn nearly jumped from his seat with a look of disbelief on his face. The only thing he could do was to kiss his girlfriend before making his way to the stage with his team. 

“Oh my God, thank you so much. To the Recording Academy, my team, my label, my friends, my family. This is unbelievable! Thanks to everyone who has been part of this process, and not only of the creation of this song, but of my entire career. My mum and dad, for keeping me grounded and always giving me a word of encouragement. My sister Aaliyah, for being so annoying and the best sister in the world. My manager Andrew for believing in me,” Shawn held the award in his hand and shook his head with a smile on his face. “I don’t know how to thank everyone, but I know that I saved someone for the last, because there’s no way I would be here without my girlfriend, (Y/N). My love, who keeps me together even during the hardest times, I love you so much, this is yours too. Thanks everyone!” He bowed before leaving the stage. 

She was clutching her heart.

She knew people were looking at her and cameras were looking for her reaction, but he didn’t care as she looked at the man she loved on stage, receiving the most important music award.

They went on commercial break, ready to announce the most important award of the night, but she didn’t care. Someone from Shawn’s team told her he wasn’t going back to the venue, so they carefully made their way backstage, where Shawn was hugging his parents. 

The moment he saw her, Shawn smiled and she noticed the tears threatening to spill.

“Congratulations,” She hugged him tightly.

“This is surreal,” 

This time they didn’t care about the cameras or the fact that Shawn’s family, including his grandma, were standing right next to them. He cupped her cheeks and crashed their lips.

It wasn’t just a kiss. They were leaving a painful time of their relationship and starting a new one, together. They were stronger and happier, they knew they belonged together. 

They knew things were going to be just fine. 

“What do you say if we skip the after parties and just head home?” He suggested before leaving one more kiss on her lips. 

“Shouldn’t we at least spend time with your family?” She giggled.

“I think they’ll understand.”

They were happy again. 

[wwoofcsa]

My weekend with pet

During my week with karla, i noticed (because it was pretty obvious) that i couldnt stop talking to petrina. We were like teenagers, messaging back and forth all day, day dreaming of one another and sharing everything under the sun. I was madly in love, like fall on your face in love with this girl and a plethora of bizzare things were circling our relationship (all of them super cosmic and hard to explain) that just gave me more reasons highting the importance of this relationship at this time. After intense and hilarious conversations, a thought popped in my head, maybe id buy a flight down to KL to see her for a few days? We chatted about it, but i was still feeling hesitations, i was afraid to let go and indulge in this realtionship. My entire life, im trying to find balance, and i was afraid that i was falling too deep into desire. BUT, after some conversations, i surrendered and jumped into the pool of love and bought my flight. A few days later, after pai, i was driving to the airport in chiang mai, hopping on the plane, and arriving in KL. I couldnt fucking wait! So i arrived, and we eased gently into one another, this was the first time we’d really spent time alone together, without any other stimulation to entertain us. But we eased smoothly the first night, as we laughed and talked and eventually fell asleep. The next morning we had planned to trip together. We had spoken about stepping a bit further out into the universe and taking a tab and a half each, and then adding some mushrooms on top. So we went and got some breakfast, made some food, set some intentions, and took the dive together. I lead the death meditation for her, and it felt like a  really lovely start to our trip. And there we went, our rocket ship left the atmosphere and the next ten hours were an intense explosion of connectedness, realizations and honoring the intriguing relationship that fell upon us. There were times that we held eachother so tight, that it was like we were a meteor flying through space, inpenatrable on the outside, but safe and gentle on the inside. It was as if i had lived multiple complete lives with petrina. Each life, a completely seperate reality, similar to mr. nobody. In one life, we were two kids that met each other and were full of lust. In another, we were partners with a child, all of us covered in with shalls and warming up by a fire in the winter of northern thailand. Another life, petrina was my daughter and i was letting her know how much her mother (petrina) and i loved her. 

The trip was incredibly powerful and intense, and near the end, we became slightly more sexual. Neither of us spoke, and i noticed that i wasnt sure what she was wanting from me. There were definitly signs that she desired pleasure, but at the same time it felt like a very surface feeling. I noticed that she wasnt recipricating touch, and that although we were being sexual, there seemed to be a slight distance making its way between us. Near the end of the trip, i started thinking about some of the things i had said earlier on, and that perhaps some of the things i had said earlier, may have caused a feeling of her needing to distance herself. I tried to open up and share and process the trip, but i could see that she was holding back a bit. I told her whenever she was ready to share, id love to hear. We fell asleep and the next morning she went to shower, closing the door and i could feel a continuance of the distance. It dawned on me that only a few days before, i was wearing the mask she was wearing of distance, and now it was my turn to feel the other side. I realized then, that neither of these roles were mine to play, and that mine was a secure one, and that i wanted to continue handling the situation from a place of truth and compassion, and not from anxiety and insecurity. So i meditated a few minutes as she showered, and when she came out, i asked if could share with her. She agreed and listened intently as i explained that i had noticed my mind finding insecurities, and only weeks ago i was on the other side of the coin. I realized that while i wanted to give her love, i never want to hold her back from anything, and that i really just wanted to make the most of our short time together. I wanted to end our beautiful weekend on a note that would send us into the world feeling good, and not one of regret and feeling foolish. I wanted to face my feelings, and confront them. I told her i was sorry, cause she expressed that she wasnt great with confrontation, but if we were gonna have a relationship of any kind, this is how we gotta do it. 

Pet was incredibly receptive and opened up a great deal about how she was feeling the night before. She opened up and we talked about the lust we were feeling the night before, and how it didnt feel great, that i wanted to give her love, but it felt cheapened by lust. I pointed out that i noticed she hadnt even touched me, and while that was ok, it just felt as if i was giving and she was receiving, instead of us mutually sharing love. The day continued on and our relationship truly blossomed. I learned the importance of communicating from a secure place, of not attacking, and not trying to pin my feelings on external events occuring, rather just to express my feelings and intentions. It was truly a game changer. We had a fucking blast the rest of the day, laying together in bed, getting coldstone ice cream, and going to see the new spiderman movie. 

Spiderman was hilarious, as we didnt realize that it was a cartoon. We arrived at the theater a few minutes late, and couldnt figure out what was going on. We left the theater and asked someone if we had made a mistake but the employee assured us that we had entered the correct theater. After reentering, we did some quick google searching and concluded, that we had in fact chosen to go see an animated spiderman, but since we were already there, we might as well enjoy it. And we did. It was a fucking awesome movie. I realized that night, that it didnt really matter what we were doing, as long as we were hanging out together, i was happy. 

A beautiful weekend of celebrating ourselves, with the lovely petrina

Things i learned from my acid trip with petrina.

There was this feeling in the depth of my being, that a large chapter of my life was coming to a close, and that this next chapter was about to commence. I could feel this third of my life, the third where i was making decisions for me and only me, was ending, and i was entering a realm where i would truly feel comfortable to make desicions that considered not only myself, but also others around me. Thats not to say that that hasnt happened in the past stage, but this would be the predominant work of this stage. A stage of giving back. As if the early ears of my life were focused on taking and utilizing resources from my parents and the world around me, and then i left for israel and i started thinking about caring for myself and taking less from those around me. I focused on learning and diving into the things that were interesting to me, and filtering a many great things that were interesing and letting those core healing practices emerge organically. I now feel like im arriving a stage, where i can truly allow for opportunites to come, that will help me dive to the depths of some of these realms that ive started digging in. Whether its a 21 day meditation course, or a month long ayuhasca retreat, im reading to get deeper. In addition, my relationshpi with petrina highlighted a desire that i had for a family, one of these days, a most unconventional family, and i believe that in this chapter of life, i will start to arrive to a place of emotional stability and groundedness.

In addition, i had an interesting experience, as i was showering during the trip. I could feel, very clearly, how much energy i had been storing in my dreads. This was stale energy that id been carrying around with me, weighing down on me for weeks, through pai and chiang mai. It was a profound experience, washing away all of this old, stale energy that was no longer serving me. I cant even explain how much lighter i felt after the shower, after coming to the understanding of just how much we carry with us and within us from the past and if we dont take time to cleans and wash, it really does build up.  it was awesome (like actually awe-some)

Another huge take away, was was omni present during the entire trip, was the idea of depth. I think for my entire life, ive been searching for depth, in almost everything that i do. Ive been trying to find tools to allow myself to experience the world in a more subtle and deeper way. During the trip, i feel like a door was opened that allowed me to see just how deep things can be in relation to how deep i have been living. It was truly humbling to see just how much of the mountain i had left to climb, but to see that there was a direction and deeper conciuosness (ironically, weeks later i would start my ayurvedic yoga/bodywork therapist trainging, where i would be consistantly practicing going to the depth of myself and of the world around me.)

Indulgance vs. discipline vs. balance

Lastly, something that petrina brought to my life, was this question between when its right to let go and indulge, when its right to hold back and be disciplined and how to find the balance between them. Obviously if you are always disciplined, you lose out on letting go, and living in the moment to some degree. On the other hand, if you are always indulging, it may be harder to reach a more sublte reality, or a deeper path.

An example of this would be, if i ate the entire cake by myself, i would miss out on a much deeper experience of sharing with others (a more eudonomic happiness vs. just sensual pleasure), or i would be trading sensual pleasure for pain and discomfort in my body later on. Or very simply, giving into sensual pleasures constantly, will be atempting to fill a void, that will just grow and grow (as both max and zen buddhism teach)

Having said that, if im constantly holding myself back, i may deprive myself of the simple and beautiful pleasures of life. In my attempt to get deeper, i will miss a very important lesson, in letting go and being present with what is, in flowing with the environment vs. trying to control everything. 

It’s been a very interesting idea to play with and observe in myself