I was late. Not by much, but late enough. I hesitate for a second as I entered my house.
“Fuck, I hope she hasn’t noticed” I think to myself.
The house is really quiet. Coffee-house jazz plays softly on the radio. A clock ticks ominously in one of the inner rooms. It’s really quiet. Fuck.
She’s sitting in the corner of the living room. Legs dangling carelessly over the armchair. Toe nails painted blood red. Her flimsy little skirt bunched up around her hips. Her T shirt has the words “Make me” across her chest, punctuated by the hard outline of her nipples across the fabric. She not wearing a bra. And I pray to God she’s not wearing panties. I feel my groin go heavy and I’m turned on already. It’s embarrassing. And she knows.
The TV’s on mute as she flips through channels. Her eyes stuck to the screen. “You’re late” she says. “five and half minutes.” No movement. No eye contact. Not even a flinch of her head. Fuck.
“I started without you” She says drawing my eyes to the corner of the room, where her panties lie in a little black bunch. “Bring them to me” she says in a low, firm voice. “..no hands”.