Tonight's adventure (purchased at the cost of some amazing wrangling with schedules and Sable) was an Odyssey class on erotic dominance.
Words are a poorish medium for what was imparted by a wonderful teacher, with body language and dramatic flair. But we talked about energy exchange, about trust and vulnerability (and how to convey this as a dominant), about intimacy, about the need for humor in scene, about cherishing the gift of another's submission... about so many things that I've intuited or been taught, so very recently.
And suddenly it was all too much to hold, every joy and pain I've been given to feel in the last seven days tried to jump into my skull at the same time, and the resulting train wreck tore open my throat and my eyes and I began to cry.
Quietly, I'm happy to report. Early training is good for something. I could breathe into it, but I couldn't stop. We had a short break not too long after, and while everyone exited the crowded warm classroom for oxygen or the bathrooms, I made tracks for the truck, locked myself in, curled up like a bug on the front seat and let it go.
As I returned for the second half, I was seriously reconsidering my agreement (as flagged by a colored dot on my nametag) to be open to direct interaction. 'Tisn't polite to fall apart on a complete stranger without warning, due to events entirely beyond their control. But I sat down, left the dot alone, and briefly told the friend sitting next to me about the lay-off, so she'd understand if I lost it more visibly. She gave me a hug, which helped.
The second half was a series of mini-scenes whose searing intensity carried the point(s) made even more effectively than the lecture. It's not about the pretty equipment; it's not about flashing attitude or wearing loads of dead cow. It's about getting turned on, and exchanging that energy, letting the pleasure show.
I got to play in the last scene. (Ulp.) Not only did I not fall apart, I can testify that (conservatively) 80% of the people in that room -- me included -- would crawl naked over broken glass for that woman, because she appreciates what you give her, and conveys that powerfully. I can only hope I'm half so good for Kawaii. At least I have a role model now.