Late Night Return

I’ve been waiting for you, Alice. I’ve put on a fire, and
curled up with a book, waiting for you to come home. It’s 2 am. You
finally get home from halfway across the country, tired and cold and in *no*
romantic mood at all. Of course, you still give me a kiss and hug — not
just a cursory kiss and hug — and explain that you just are not up for
anything more now, that you are going to go get a bath and go to
bed.

Up the stairs you go. I watch you move, imagining how it would
look with no clothes on. I hear the water running, and wait just a
little. Then I go upstairs, and slide into the bathroom to wash your back
for you. You start to protest, and I grab your wrists and pull them behind
your head. You look lovely like that, with your arms raised and your
breasts jutting out. I pull out the soft cloth cuffs we sometimes use, the
dark purple cat collars. I click them on your wrists, and then snap them
together behind your head. Its not terribly comfortable, but at least your
hands can’t get in my way now. Tears start down your face, from
exhaustion or discomfort, I don’t know. I kiss you and then wipe them
away.

I take one of those big, soft sponges, and wash you, sluicing
water over your back, and letting it run down your shoulders. I kiss the
back of your neck and push you against the back of the tub, washing your
stomach with the sponge, and then your breasts. You are, by now, feeling
very warm as I start to scrub a little at the inside of your thighs, and
lean over to kiss your upturned breasts. Your eyes are closed, but you are
certainly not surprised by my touches. Eventually, I haul you out, and dry
you off with a big fluffy towel, kissing you very hard, forcing my tongue
into your mouth and pressing you close to me.

It is late, Alice, but
there we are, you in your towel and I in my bathrobe. It’s much, much
colder out in the hall or the bedroom than it is right here in the bathroom,
and you don’t want to leave. I untie my robe, push your towel away,
pressing my naked body close against yours. It is late, you say, as I
unhook your hands. And it is, as we sink down onto the bathroom floor.
We both smile, as we fuck, very very slowly, feeling very very
warm.

You’ll sleep well tonight, dear.

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