To my friends, I’m Nikki: a southern, snarky, foul-mouthed, mother of two. They know me as the friend who would drop everything during a crisis and show up at their door holding a gigantic bottle of vodka, or a flashlight and shovel. Yes, I’m THAT friend. And with that being said, they know me as the woman who would cut a bitch before I’d let harm come to those I love. My friends are vanilla, mostly, and only a select few know that I write erotica, that I’m open about my kinks, and I blog unapologetically about my sex life. Some read my shenanigans often, and some have chosen not to. Above all, they know how protective I am of my children’s and Mr. K’s identities, and they respect it. They allow ME to choose who knows about Nikki Blue.
This past weekend we gathered to celebrate a dear friend’s 40th birthday. We were moms without kids. We did our hair, drank lots of booze, and danced. Oh yeah, we got turnt up, y’all. Somewhere amidst cheeseburgers and vodka, Nikki Blue came out– all the way out –to people who didn’t know her. It began as a simple discussion about books, what’s hot, what’s not, and what’s utterly frickticulous. Then more vodka happened and someone said, “Hey, Nikki writes erotica!” Next thing I knew, phones were whipped out and web browsers opened.
I’d be lying if I said panic didn’t squeeze my heart a little. Some of the women only knew me as Nikki: the Teen and D’s mom. But Nikki Blue was out there and there was no pulling her back. Would I be judged? Would Mr. K? Would it change how they felt about my kids?
My friends are voracious readers who have devoured all of the erotic BDSM the bookstore had to offer. They were titillated by it, and their husbands reaped the benefits. I quickly pointed out Vagina Antics wasn’t the fiction they were accustomed to. There was no brooding, super rich dude, or an inner goddess with no flaws doing the merengue. It was real life. MY life. On the pages they would find me, Mr. K, pussy slapping, pee licking, and ass play. Lots and lots of ass play. I held my breath, waited for quirked eyebrows, and slack jaws. None came.
“Doesn’t anal sex hurt?” asked one friend. Another said she thought she’d had Vaginal Group B Strep too and likened it to strep throat in your cooch. I couldn’t help but snort because it’s so fucking true. We then ventured toward the topic of “no hair down there,” and I professed my theory linking my velvety soft pony nose to my delicacy issues. My internet ninja skills and my laser technician have failed to provide supportive facts to substantiate my claims, but I’m totally convinced.
Like the 50 Shades phenomenon, my coming out got them talking. It felt good. Curiosity peaked, and I was asked if having sex with women made me bisexual. I explained I loved the softness of a woman’s body, but I needed Mr. K’s penis within reaching distance to do so. ‘Heteroflexible’ was a term they’d never heard. I answered questions in regards to butt plugs, leather cuffs, sex clubs, and how easy it is to squeak through airport security with a bag full of toys. The conversation flowed as smooth as the vodka we drank.
My sexual preferences didn’t inhibit my judgement or ability to be a good friend. They also didn’t turn me into an out of control sex machine who spewed unwanted information to any open ear. I knew my friends, their personalities, their limits, and I would never push them into that awkward zone. I worried Nikki Blue would make them uncomfortable and they would see me differently, but that didn’t happen. Not even my self-proclaimed, sexually conservative friend who witnessed me take a tit shot for Mr. K as we drove home in her mini-van. Hey, they’re new, and he asked for it.
As I suffered through my hangover the next day, I recalled the events of the night to Mr. K. He was thrilled I enjoyed myself and that Nikki Blue was welcomed with open arms and minds. He hasn’t met these particular friends yet, and I asked him how he will feel when that day comes knowing they have intimate details of the ways we get down. “I will be proud,” he said.
My heart swelled. “Me too.”
