Jun 252014
 

She’s late.

I’m annoyed.

Wait – I shouldn’t be annoyed. I should be grateful. She’s traveling a long distance, after all, to hand her body over to me to do with as I please.

“Are you ok?” I text.

Time passes. Finally, finally, she arrives. She doesn’t walk through the door I’ve been watching. She comes from the opposite direction.

She’s dressed as I asked. She wore the tight, short white skirt I asked. She removed the tights I’d asked her to remove. Her breasts push against her blouse. She wants me – all her men – “crisp,” not in t-shirts, dressed “well.”

That’s not me. It used to be. Now, I’m mostly a jeans-and-a-t-shirt guy. On this night? I think I might well have been crisp. Though, to be clear, if I was, it wasn’t because it was what she wanted.

Say something! (I just did....)