I've dreamt again of Manderley, I would think sometimes upon waking alone in bed, thighs damp, hair loosed from my bun. I'd breathe deeply, disappointed not to be waking at that vacation house in those peaceful dark woods.
My sanctuary. My hideout when cursed with writer's block. My secluded Colorado cabin like Annie's, but my hostages are always willing. I'm glad you appreciate my dark humor.
I hope memories of our explorations haunt you nightly. Oh how we explored it all - every fetish and desire. You were the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.
"We never cease wanting what we want, whether it's good for us or not."
I read that somewhere. It embodies us.
You unlocked a monster inside of me. That monster won when you accepted my invitation to visit me there - at that place where I go to be alone with my ghosts and write in peace. I didn't think you'd accept my terms. I didn't think you'd volunteer to feed that dark side of me.
You've never feared me though, not really. Part of you ached for that dark version of me. Unleashed, unreserved, unrestrained, uninhibited. My Tyler Durden, my John Shooter.
You craved my fist in your hair, flat palm on your ass, the burn of rope, the whoosh-snap of a flogger. We were addicted to that intense, overwhelming pleasure that accompanies pain.
Right up until you knocked on my door, I had doubts you'd follow through.
"Still want to do this?" I asked you immediately. I sensed the slightest bit of hesitation.
I wasn't going to let you inside until you responded. This question needed to be answered while heads were still clear, not intoxicated with lust.
Crickets and frogs filled the silence between us as evening arrived. Fireflies floated in the undergrowth. The horizon shone pink.
"Yes, absolutely goddess." Your confidence eased my racing mind.
"Strip." Tonight was not about niceties.
You obediently removed your clothes, folding them and placing them on top of your suitcase.
"Leave it all out here." I stepped aside, allowing you to enter. We left all of your belongings on the front porch.
There are times for playfulness and gentleness, for fun and teasing, but that night was different. Maybe it was the house. My sanctuary. My hideout when cursed with writer's block. My secluded Colorado cabin that you traveled to willingly.
"Nadu," I said softly before you were hardly more than a few steps inside the front door.
The word immediately triggered your legs to buckle. You left your hesitation on the porch with your belongings. Your perfect position, your eagerness, your focus made my core start to warm, my heart start to race.
