Chapter 6: Who Are You Now?
She immediately starts to get concerned about dinner. I suggest take out. “No way, I’m committed to making you a proper meal babe” she shoots back at me.
She’s serious. It’s heartwarming to hear. The comment snaps me back into a brief moment of introspection.
Nearly 12 hours into consciousness this Saturday, I’ve cum three times. Six times in total since I’ve arrived. But the night is young, and time as stated earlier, is moving forward in spite of my perfect sex weekend.
She starts making dinner around 7. She provides me with a drink (more champagne), some trail mix (the best appetizer she can rustle up), and a fully rolled joint that I agree to take, even though I know I don’t need it.
The boast she’s given my sexual ego since I’ve arrived is the only high I need. Yet here I am, puffing away.
Dinner is done close to 8. She sets the table with the precision of a housewife from a 1950s sitcom. Silverware, plates, drinking and wine glasses are all laid out perfectly.