Should I become a slut?

I have what one person (so far) has called the "sexiest bed on the planet." I don't think I would go that far. The sexiest bed would have be, uh, *my bed* swathed in white linens in the shade of a billowing muslin canopy on an isolated stretch of white South Pacific sand being lapped by warm tropical water that looks lit of turquoise. Now we're talking....

Nevertheless, the arrival of my much-anticipated, made-to-order, hand-crafted solid mahogany sleigh bed has dramatically altered the interior design of my living space. It has gone from loft living space with bed to boudoir with kitchen. The transformation has been prompting sexual talk by visitors.

"You do realize," one said, "that you could rent your loft by the hour on the weekends for a very high price, don't you?" (It hadn't occurred to me, but as it has occurred to *someone,* I will issue this warning to all who have keys to my place: No madame action permitted. Not without giving me a cut anyway.)

Others, however, have been looking at that bed and thinking it might result in some action for *me,* versus a high-priced call girl. (Man, still ... I can't believe I hadn't thought of that!)

Anyway, the other night S2 and her hubby came over for some pre-sushi libations and S2 started commenting on the bed. Which, OK, I preen over these things because I'm shallow and materialistic when it comes to gorgeous wooden furniture. (I don't preen or fawn over furniture if it's not made of wood and highly crafted at that. Obviously, it's some kind of fetish.)

So after a bit, S2 stands next to the bed and asks, "Have you imagined yourself having sex in this bed yet?"

Well, I have imagined myself having sex while in this bed, but I hadn't actually made the bed a central figure, I replied. Not yet anyway. It's such a sexy bed that it's only a matter of time.

This evening, The Good Witch stopped by for a visit and at one point said, "That bed is going to stand up to a lot of sex. You do know it probably will be around for centuries, don't you?"

That's one of the reasons I got it, I replied. If it doesn't get destroyed in a disaster, it's going to survive for generations. And so, yeah, it's going to see a lot of sex.

"Well, you must have had sex in mind when you bought it," she replied. "Because it has sex written all over it. Plus, it would make a great conversation pit."

So The Good Wiitch is seeing not just me and someone else, but multiple parties in the bed at the same time. It's making me think I should draw up the invitations for that Bacchanalian Orgy I was talking about a few weeks ago. We eat loads of food, drink tons of wine and all drop into the bed for a drunken ... -- oh, wait, we should all drop into the bed AFTER the wine, but BEFORE the food. Duh!

Back from fantasyland...

I've had two suggestions that I have a "Bed Warming" party. I like this idea, too. I can dress as Hugh Hefner (in some jammies, that is) and simply invite a bunch of women over with a request they go the bunny route....

Enh. I guess that's a diversion into fantasyland, too.

But what about becoming a slut? Surely, there must be something to be said for casual sex these days. Some of the most erotic sex I ever had was with a woman who fell into a relationship category that was somewhere between fuck buddy and friend with benefits.

Why not go down that road again? As my sister said recently, at this point in my divorce development, I would probably "a menace" to any woman who wanted a serious relationship. Because in that regard, I'm not especially available.

I'm off on some strange path of self-discovery again. I'm trying to reclaim myself as myself, be an independent woman here on Planet Earth. That doesn't mean I'm not acutely missing a signficant other at times. Of course I am. But it's going to take a while for me to want to be in another such relationship.

In the meantime, I'm 37 years old and my libido periodically finds the stratosphere. I have been feeling desire in ways previously not experienced. This is, I gather, partly to do with my age, but it is also related to the strange path of my sexual development thanks to so many years of repression and denial about my sexuality. All of that shit is gone now, and I'm in some place totally different.

A few months ago, Bubba told me she didn't believe it possible to carry on a casual sexual relationship without having all sorts of muddled and queer feelings, such as falling in love. She asked me if I thought it was possible for myself.

I don't see why not, I answered. I mean, if you're up front with each other about what you want and don't want but there's some chemistry there, I think it's totally possible. I was thinking back to what could have gone a little better with that fuck buddy/friend with benefit of mine. She hadn't been clear about what she wanted, and I had no clue what I wanted.

Bubba told me such relationships never go as planned and that she's had a hard time keeping the gals at bay in her own experience.

It's true, there is that whole bit with the lesbians and their U-hauls. And that is a concern to me when I think about getting all slutty. Because I don't want some girl moving in on me. Not any old girl, that is. There are, no doubt, some I would be quite pleased to have. But ... later!

In the meantime, what about sex?

Just how long can one live in a space with a bed as beautiful and sexy as mine and not think about putting it to good use? It hasn't even been here for two weeks.... It is quite comfortable for sleeping, but that's just the MATTRESS.

The bed itself? It's a sexpot.

I've been expressing concern to some of my friends that having casual sex in such a pretty bed -- and something I'll have for the rest of my life -- might bring bad ju-ju to the bed. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it might not be just the opposite. Casual, fun, charged-up, erotic sex without a whole bunch of "meaning" attached to it might be just the kind of energy a bed like this needs. It might be good ju-ju, indeed.

I'm beginning to think that rather than a set of European shams, this bed needs a slut.

As Anais Nin once said, "There comes a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud is more painful than the risk it takes to blossom."