Hacker Boy continues to surprise me. In many ways, he is the consummate San Francisco gothy hacker boy (thus the accuracy of the name). He is tall and lanky, skinny and pale; always in long sleeves and all-black, with black boots. The only color you’ll see is in his accessories — one of two laptops, each with web 2.0 buzzword-compliant stickers (the only source of color in his ensemble). He detests the sun and dwells in dark wifi zones; anything he drives, he drives too fast. Like any boy in his twenties, he readily eats chocolate for breakfast and one can typically find beer in his refrigerator before edible food, as everything else will be a take-away box with questionable contents.
But he is full of surprises. One that that has really blown me away (after his seemingly unlimited capacity in equal measure for both erotic sadism and deep nurturing), is his astounding knowledge and love of tea, and all the accoutrements of a proper tea experience. It is beyond refined, it is obsessive, and his ability to tell stories and quote prices per pound of the rarest blends on earth stuns me.
It is with serendipitous timing that Thrusti Kicki Grabbi has emailed me, asking me with the most formal and cordial of emails to peep their website. Delightfully, it’s full of sweetly humorous, incredibly naughty tea-time Victoriana. All with an accent of playful male submission, especially evidenced in the Naught-Tea Tea Set (“What a naughty boy is he. He shall have no jam for tea.”) and the Well-Kept Hair Brush (“Over Madame’s knee and bare, spankings for his un-kept hair.”).
So, surveying the still-perfect, five-day-old handprint of bruises on my right forearm from my last session with Hacker Boy, I think it’s about to be tea-time here at the Blogger Bungalow.
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