My husband had agreed to let me have 3 hours alone with my friend. After a few months of having him as a third – or fourth – in our bedroom, I felt safe enough with him to allow one of my fantasies to play out: my husband dropping me off at his house like a prostitute. After eagerly awaiting for them to make arrangements, the day had finally come.
In my purse I had packed a change of clothes – my collar and leash, crotchless fishnets, and a slinky black dress – all items were requests directly from him. I was eager to please him. After all, I had fantasized about this encounter for months. I could barely contain my excitement on the drive over, giggling like a school girl, butterflies tickling my stomach. It was the same mixture of excitement and fear I felt before riding a roller coaster. Only this time, I’d be riding him.