The usual suspects and myself got together for one of our virtual game nights about a week ago. One friend suggested we wear “fancy” clothing, which I decided to interpret as underwear and a netted leather skirt in the style of a caged hoop skirt. This was as much a practical consideration as one designed to tempt, as I refuse to allow dry-clean-only gowns to come between me and my love of guacamole.
I was up to my usual shenanigans when the female friend I enjoy needling sputtered indignantly at losing a game. When I teased that she secretly enjoys having a reason to faux-rage, she denied it. Of course, my high brain retorted, “that’s not what you’ll be saying at the end of the night.”
While my joke sailed over everyone else’s head, one of my boyfriend’s friends caught on and said, “that’s hot.” Naturally, I was intrigued and couldn’t resist pushing the envelope. Later in the evening when I alluded to my rape fantasy again he said, “I can play by those rules,” which only served to inflame my overactive imagination.