Chapter Three:
VOICES IN THE WILDERNESS

During the first five years of our marriage before our kids were capable of serious curiosity Malcolm and I were free to play at home ... although, as an investment in the future, we did from the beginning encourage my Mum and Malc's parents to have our kids to stay with them for occasional weekends and take them on holiday trips from time to time. Luckily this suited all concerned and even in our innocent beginnings allowed for our noisier game playing. As far as our instinctive gravitation towards more (shall we say) experimental games, we were isolated from any form of outside influence, but at least we had each other. When I think how many people there are out there with nobody to even exchange ideas or opinions with; people who may never succeed in making contact with another compatible soul on this planet ... Sorry, recently that thought's been bothering me more and more. Anyway, where was I? Beginning of Phase Two of our development. By the time our two kids both reached the age to start primary school full time, money was getting tighter. Everybody was ready for a change. I wanted to get back to my work full time and Malc was eager for a shot at something more adventurous than being a garage mechanic all his life. From the first his idea behind the diving was to get work on the oil rigs which were only just starting. After five years of married life he had earned a break. Bless him he was great with the kids but he'd still got a lot of the kid in him at 25. We thought there'd be more need for him to be around the house when our two hit adolescence. I was nervous of the dangerous work of course but there was good money to be made on the Rigs at that time ... and I was quite looking forward to getting back onto the career ladder I'd hopped off to get married.

As this saga is only about our sexual exploits I'll get to the point of this chapter: Voices in the Wilderness. Throughout history sex-starved men in lonely places have found solutions that 'Civilized Society' might find unacceptable. Life on the oil rigs pitched Malc smack into a world he'd never experienced but took to like a duck to the proverbial. In spite of his Orchid Ballroom bravado and our less than conventional occasional sex games he was still an innocent at heart. Older men on the rigs knew and did things that blew his mind. Luckily for me we had a good firm relationship. Without the bond of our secret and slightly guilty games (we still felt guilty about them then ... we don't now, Your Honour) I don't think our marriage would have survived Aberdeen ... the Tartan Klondike. For the first time Malc was exposed to German, Swedish and American porno videos. He had access on local shore leave to strip shows, sex clubs, phone sex ... and what was so sweet was he used to write and tell me all about it.

Not to be outdone I used to write him weekly letters giving news of home and the kids plus totally fictitious and outrageous accounts of my sexual exploits with my boss, the milkman, his old mates from the garage and even with the lady next door. Some of the scenarios I dredged up from my subconscious shocked even me. On his first two trips home he was suspicious ... but it was the beginning of the role playing that we both eventually became so good at. On an early trip home he brought a few of the Contact ad. magazines that circulated on the rigs to show me. Of course they're illegal in Britain but that didn't seem to include Aberdeen . BITCH GODDESS, SM GAZETTE (I'm not making this up), SM/ADS, , RUBBER NEWS, and DIZIPLINE were all packed with contact ads as well as pictures and fiction. Most of the ads were from professional Dominatrix offering the men interesting shore leave in Amsterdam , Hamburg , Bradford, Birmingham and even Carnoustie! Some of the ads sounded like pure fantasy but who knows? There were also obviously genuine personal ads from lonely men, lost souls sending out messages from the wilderness. It was the first time I realized how many lonely hearts never get heard from.

During that leave I asked Malc if he'd fancy writing to some of the more outrageous Dominatrix ads. I said I'd be very interested to know how they wrote back. He said he'd think about it. When he went back he left the magazines ... they certainly contributed to my education. No, they didn't pervert me, I was just happy to know we weren't the only perverts in the world if that's what we really were. Reassurance that you're not alone in the world is not something to be sniffed at. And like it or not Mrs. Whitehouse, there are people in the world who choose NOT to live by the rules you choose to live by. Whoops! Cool it! Don't get emotional. But you see, thinking about all the people who never manage to make contact with kindred spirits makes me angry and depressed ... and I don't want this book to be depressing or shocking just informative.

END CHAPTER 3

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