Back at his loft, he unpacked my things, making room in his closet and dresser for girly stuff. The large bathroom had little cabinet space to put my make-up, so I left everything in my cosmetic bag and put it on a chair in the corner.
It was late, and the dinner he’d planned on making was a bust. We ordered pizza and enjoyed a bottle and a half of wine while sitting closely together on the sofa.
“Have you ever been restrained during sex?”
I coughed. I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I offered, “I’ve had my hands held above my head before.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yeah, it was okay. It’s hard to fight the feeling of wanting to touch. Sex is as much about touch as it is feeling. One directs the other.”
He thought for a moment then took my glass of wine, setting it down on the table behind the sofa. “Close your eyes.”
I did as he commanded.
I felt his weight on the sofa shift, and I knew he’d gotten up. There were sounds coming from the distance, like the opening and closing of drawers. After a few moments, I heard him walk closer to me and felt the sofa shift again. He’d returned to me.
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