My boyfriend Claude and I have been living together for three years now. When I first moved into his apartment (a move we had considered for more than six months) it seemed as if we could not get enough of each other. When he came home from work (he teaches high school English at the school where I work as a librarian) I would often be there waiting for him, wearing much less than I had worn to work myself and kissing him as he came through the door. We would make our way to the bedroom, where dinner would only come as an afterthought.
After three years of living together our thoughts of making love have drifted to the back burner, gradually crowded out by the mundanities of life. Job concerns, automotive maintenance, putting food into the pantry, all these and a million other things have eclipsed our sex life. Now instead of coming home to me, Claude will often go out drinking with friends. I know he was not cheating on me, he would never do it and I trust him completely, but when he comes home late, after several rounds of beer with his friends, he comes in and after mumbling a greeting, he takes off his shoes and pants and crawls into bed and falls asleep. While I do not entirely begrudge him the time he spent with his friends, as I have been known to join my friends for a ladies night out, but still it seemed that all to often he had time to spend with his friends and not with me.
Even on nights when he does not go out with his friends it seems that there is always something he is doing and not spending time with me. Whether he is grading student papers or watching sports on TV there always seems to be something occupying him, taking him away from spending time with me. I longed for those days, early in our relationship, when it seemed that our lust for each other knew no bounds.
Tonight it was a Friday night and I was determined not to take no for an answer. I knew that he would be coming home a bit late because he always stayed after on Fridays to give a little extra help to his AP students. I had prepared his favorite meal, steak with baked potato, and spinach salad. I had even gone out and got a bottle of a central Californian zinfandel that we both liked.
I met him at the door wearing my favorite short black dress I knew he liked, with black stockings and heels and greeted him with a glass of wine. I had even done my makeup, something I rarely bothered with on a night we were both spending at home.
"Janelle?" he asked upon seeing me, his eyes gone wide with surprise.
"Here," I said handing him the glass of wine.
"Thank you,"
"Why don't you come in an have some dinner, I made your favorite."
I led him into the TV room where we usually ate. Instead of the television, which was usually on when he arrived home, I had put some jazz on the stereo.
"Why don't you sit down and I will bring you dinner."
Without a word he sat down in his usual place on the couch and reached for the universal remote.
"Ah, why don't we try to do without the idiot box tonight?"
"Sure," he said, reluctantly putting down the remote. I knew there was a football game on he wanted to watch, but I had no intention of letting him. Not tonight.
I went to the kitchen and got both of our dinner plates and brought them out to him. Handing him his plate, I put mine on the coffee table we ate at. I walked back to the kitchen and got the butter, cheese and sour cream for the potatoes and then returned to the TV room. He had said nothing more about the way I was dressed and I guess I was a little hurt. Could he not see all the effort I had gone to on his behalf. As tears welled in my eyes, I did my best to hold them back. I would not get mad; I would get even. Claude had already started eating his steak when I returned. I choose to ignore the rudeness of his not waiting for me. Mentally I added this to list of the things that I would be punishing him for.
We ate dinner without conversation. He is a rapid eater, in my opinion not savoring his food, so as usual he finished before me. He sat silently and waited for me to finish. When I finished I picked up both our dishes and took them and put them in the sink. After I finished washing off the dishes and putting them into the dishwasher I picked up a pair of leather wrist restraints I had stashed in the kitchen I returned to the TV room.
When I returned he had already turned on the television and was watching his football game. Holding the restraints up on display I stood waiting for his attention. It was several seconds before he noticed me there. He was engrossed in the game and my being there was, as usual, superfluous to him. Finally he looked up at me and when he saw the restraints in my hand he gave me a quizzical look and then looked back at the game.
"You've been very bad and will need to be punished."
"What?" he asked, still not looking away from the game.
"You heard me, bad boy. Turn off the TV and come with me."
"What? I am watching the game."
