Confession by Cam

You never really know what someone is like until you meet them.  Yes, we'd met in SL, chatted in text and in voice, swapped pictures - all of that.  You think you know them, but you don't really.  There's always room for doubt; for things unseen.  Not lies or half-truths but omissions.  Little snippets of character or appearance; mannerisms or ways of being, that might put one off.  They say never meet your heroes but if you don't of course you'll never know that they're really just normal people - or the most incredible person.  You have to scratch that card and hope it comes up with bells and not lemons.

Seeing Mistress in that secreted-away café in a Holborn side street for the first time washed away any doubts.  Her smile.  Bell. Her gentle persuasiveness. Bell. And the effortless style of her clothes.  Bell. We sat and chatted - it was weird, meeting someone for the first time that you know so well, so strange yet so familiar.  She asked me if I still wanted to come with her.  I agreed and we walked back to her flat via the shops.  I've been completely hers ever since.

I still look back to that meeting sometimes with fondness - the cafe isn't there any more; well, it is, but it's a different company now.  Some things don't change though.  Her smile, her gentle persuasiveness, and her effortless style.  Nor does my love for her.  Except that it ages well, like a good wine.  Better every year and well worth drinking deeply..