I round the corner to come down the hall and see you standing there. You’re not even looking in my direction. Your right hand? A deep red, leather, paddle.Continue reading
I’ve written before that pain is this thing that I, at least, have this love/hate relationship with. It’s really odd to me that at times when things are NOT going on, it’s this “aw, that was so nice!” and then you think about these romanticized memories of what went on.
In reality, it was more like “Mother-trucker! That hurt!!! @#^%@#%”