He said something then. I was sufficiently distracted that I’m not sure of the
exact wording, but he says, “You don’t do this because you lose a bet. If you
want me to come over, it should be because you want me to, not because you have
to.” Well, that messed up my head. I actually hear myself telling him that I
want him to come over. A part of it is that it seems like cheating to just duck
out on my bet. A part of me really wants to know what J would want from a sexual
slave, other than the obvious. I also realize a part of me is anxious to have it
happen. Time seems to hang still. I imagine myself parading around in front of
him with nothing on; I imagine his desire as he watches me; I get horny in
anticipation of the way his gaze will make me feel. I realize on a conscious
level that I want this to happen to me. I realize that I want to have this
experience. He asks me if seven is still good. I told him yes. He then asked me
if I remembered how I was supposed to answer the door. I knew what he meant. I
told him yes. He told me, “O.K. It’s a date,” and said goodbye. I stood there
holding the phone for a long moment.
The Chief went off on his trip. I spent Friday seeing that the house was clean.
I changed the sheets on our bed even though it wasn’t the normal day. At 5 in
the afternoon, I took a long bath with scented bath oil. I did my hair and all
of the other things I’d do before something important. when I was done, I put on
a lose robe and went down stairs. I started dinner about six. My mind spun
between visions of being savagely (well passionately) taken repeatedly on my
living room floor, and a terribly sophisticated dinner during which I just
happened to be nude. I had everything more or less ready at about quarter of
seven. That’s when I took off the robe. I’d been horny all afternoon, horny and
…End of the part8. To be continued..
