Who’s the Boss? (She is)

At the end of the week, as the work day starts to wind down, I’m working to finish up, get everyone their final bits to be done for the day.  I’ve been heads-down for hours, door shut, putting together the dreaded weekend lists for everyone to finish up over the weekend.

There’s a soft knock at the door and I try to ignore it.  But the knocking comes again, this time louder.  I mumble something resembling “come in,” hoping that whomever is on the other side of the door will take the hint and go away.  Nothing happens.  I grin to myself, thinking I succeeded, then the knock again.  Now I’m getting annoyed.  “Come in!” is all I can get out, with an expletive or two under my breath afterward.

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Be Careful What You Wish For

I really should learn not to joke around about things that I’m just not quite certain about at the time.  It may seem like something you wish for at the time in an abstract sense, but it can be extremely intense in reality.  It plants a seed in you that you keep around for later use and it has been known to come back to haunt me a bit in the future on more than one occasion.

“ha ha – wouldn’t it be funny if you…” is a dangerous entry into a charged scene.  Even though it’s a fantasy or even fleeting thought at the time I may mention it, your mind has this ability to grab onto it and take it to the farthest possible extreme.  Sometimes this is good, sometimes it’s a little shocking.

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Before You Go…

Every morning, the standard rule is to present myself to you immediately after my shower.  I never really know what to expect of course; that’s part of the game.  At one time, a hug.  At another time, you’d get me just the point of “inflating” and send me on my way.  Many times, it’s marks.

Today was no exception.  You decide you’d make sure everything was well, check the cage, leave behind some teeth impressions.  It’s always just enough to get the rush initiated, but never enough to do any more than that.  To call it wonderfully frustrating might be a good description.  I love these times.

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Objectification

When I walk in the door on Friday afternoon, you’re there to greet me.  You have the grin on your face.  The one that says you’re plotting and scheming and are in a place where you’re interested in one thing only – getting your way.

As I walk in you put your finger on my lips softly to shush me.  You take my things, put them on the floor and proceed to undress me.

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