I chose my outfit a day early: a black pencil skirt, a slip, a light pink lace bra which would show tastefully through my opaque white blouse. My cuffs were black as was a strip of silk that I tied haphazardly below the highest button.
In the cool morning light my stomach fluttered as I dressed carefully; slipped on black lace panties, the short black slip, and the rest of the tantalizing draping. Business appropriate, but with an ulterior motive. That black silk that rested between my breasts all day will be wrapped around him once the moon rises.
9 o’clock. Au naturale. Nothing up his ass or around his cock. Fresh underwear on if he wears some normally. Stone sober. I want him just as he is.
I have inventoried my new toys and laid them carefully on my white bed, their black shapes like a seedy jigsaw puzzle. I have attached a silk loop at the center head of my bed to the steel frame for the cuffs to be attached to if I so choose to use them and looped two more silk ties in the upper corners to the wooden mattress slats if I eschew them.
I have condoms of all sizes and only a little lube. I doubt I’ll need it.
My nose is powdered, my pussy spruced up. I have placed a single hair tie on the coffee table beside a bottle of lotion. When I am ready, he will tie his jaw-length hair back and my eyes will turn black with desire. He will remove my black booties and socks and rub my aching feet, his hair tied back while I devour the length of his long body with my black eyes and imagine his heart beating against his muscular chest.
Candles are lit. The house smells like tobacco and cinnamon. A Led Zepplin record from my mother’s 1970s collection plays tantalizingly in the low light.
He called to say he ran out of time to buy wine, but he will be on time. I bought red wine for us anyway. I can’t stop my heart from beating wildly in my chest nor my pussy to stop thrumming intermittently when I think about his imminent arrival.
He will be here in 7 minutes.