It’s 5 o’clock in the evening. I’m on the train from Birmingham New Street to my house in Lichfield, when I feel my phone buzz. I’ve been to the Birmingham City Library. The talk was on women in business. The focus being the unrepresentative ratio of women given high powered jobs in power positions.
The text reads:
“My house. 19:00.
Red Bra. Red French lace pants. Red hold ups. Black stockings. Black heels (above 4 inches). Beige Mac.
Ring the door bell then place your hands behind your back”
I feel a hate rise within me as I read the text. How fucking dare you? We’ve had some rough and fun sex but instructions? I’m not yours. I can’t be summoned.
18:45:
I’m in the back of the Taxi. I have the Beige Mac on. I have minimal Male up except for extremely vibrant red lipstick. Underneath I’m dressed exactly as instructed. The cab pulls up at your address and I hesitate. I pay the driver and walk up your drive. I ring the bell and then clasp my wrist behind my back. The door opens and I do not look up to you.