Belay Slave Turned Crag Slut…

I’ve been wanted to learn to rock climb for two decades…there was only one thing standing in my way and it was a doozie…fear of heights, as in a standard ladder was too much to conquer for normal household maintenance (like screwing in a light bulb.) I know, insane.

When I met my hubby the only thought that went through my head was sex. (I was horny the minute I met him.) The second thought that went through my head was kink (of course) because I refused to be in another vanilla relationship. Having passed both tests, I proceeded to first date where I was astonished to learn that he was an avid rock climber (or as avid as a man can be with a full time job/mortgage responsibilities which is honestly a big bonus because since meeting him, I’ve met several men and women who consider climbing the only thing of importance, shunning relationships, jobs, and mortgages in favor of traveling from cliff to cliff with nothing more than their shoes, rope, and tent.) So meeting him, really seemed too good to be true…

I thought…he’ll teach me to rock climb…

In the past two years since that first date, I’ve mentioned on several occasions that I wanted to learn to climb but it seemed I was destined to be the belay slave (the one who holds the rope and adjusts the rope tension as the climber climbs) for the rest of my life because of my FEAR.

Last weekend that all changed. Hubby flew in (btw he’s been mostly gone since August 3rd for business) for a week’s vacation to celebrate Samhain with me. I surprised him by signing us up for a weekend membership at a rock climbing gym. He was less than enthused since he’s seen my paralyzing fear in action and once had to rescue me from a three foot step ladder but he went along on the adventure stoically hopeful that the day would end without any hysterics on my part…

But, I was prepared…mentally…in addition to meditating for weeks, focused on abandoning my fear of heights, I whipped out my most powerful persona…my Femme Fatale…and I dressed for the occasion: color-coordinated yoga pants and athletic top, full make-up, bouncy ponytail. I lotioned my shoulders and arms with wonderfully scented, luminous lotion (okay, slightly glittery) that made my shoulders look like there might actually be some muscle there and I wore full make-up;)

I felt smoking hot.
I felt strong…no, make that invincible as we drove to the gym…

I climbed a thirty-five foot beginner wall without even considering the height factor. It was wonderful. I surprised everyone, including myself, because when I looked down and waved at my hubby and daughter, I knew I’d really conquered my fear.

On Monday, he flew out again…
I went back to the climbing gym and signed up for a month’s membership for my daughter and myself…(it’s also been a major stress reliever but I will not even bother to get started on my personal life insanity) and in the few days since…I’ve climbed every day, even if only for an hour. I’m challenging myself on routes that I know are physically over my head and quite a bit higher than that first climb…but I’m sooo psyched. I even bought two climbing magazines so I could start learning terminology (not realizing in advance that almost every single article has a reference to sex…who knew?) and where the best outdoor places are to go for a beginner climber. Sure, I could wait and ask hubby because he already knows…but I really want to do the research myself.

Hubby has no idea that he’ll be coming home to a crag slut:)

Other posts by Roxy Harte

• On The TOP TEN LIST! - March 29th, 2010
• The Bitchin’ and Moanin’ Is OVER… - February 17th, 2010
• Lesbian Erotica Rejection Letters - June 10th, 2009
• Writing Lesbian Erotica... - March 16th, 2009
• Woman Prime Minister Is Also An Outspoken Lesbian - January 29th, 2009

Tags: Femme Fatale, Rock Climbing