I pull myself away feeling the rushing of the warm air to fill the gap between us. Still holding Tara’s hand, I guide her to the still steaming shower. A brief thought of the water bill and the chain to water conservation flashes through my mind. Considering the water table cistern proposal the Spire has considered building. All thought of such flees as the heavy spray pounds and splashes against Tara’s upturned breast.
She exults in the tumult and I slide closed the shower door. Her humming hushed by the glass.
I stand on the outside, looking through the glass as if watching a movie, then pivot on my heel and look over the beautiful pale skin of my Sara. The streaked red blonde hair giving testament to the ministrations of our love who frolics alone in the shower.
I hold out my hand and Sara rises to her feet. The soft creak of joints held in pose too long and the flush of embarrassment of this proof of age.
I pull her to me. Her nude body small against me. Her presence towers in the my mind but here, against me, I look down and see the top of her head.
I lean down and kiss her forehead.
“Come, my love, I have a treat for you.”
We walk into the bedroom. Her hand clasped in mine. I stop us by her dressing mirror and pull her collar off the hook and hold it out to her.
Sara takes it from me and, holding my eyes, cinches it around her neck. That soft thrill as she affirms my ownership of her thrums through me. Taking a ragged breath, heavy with desire, I reach over to her lead. I attach it and ball the leather around my fist. Then tug and half drag my slave-wife to the living room. The Saint Andrews cross is set up but what draws the eye is the row of leather clad heavily muscled young men.
Addressing Sara, “I give you the choice of instrument. Either these young men or the cross.”
She looks at me. The war of desire for the certainty of the cross vs the unknown of the men fights in her. I can read her thoughts of the discussion we had concerning multiple partners and the fear as she again realizes that I remember every discussion we have. And that any of it, given the framework of our agreement, would constitute an informed discussion.
With a shiver she replies, “Sir, please pick for me.”