I bought a small g-spot vibrator on sale today, and the female condoms were on my doorstep when I came home. Put them in the overnight bag, now my hope chest.

Shuddered at BATTLEFIELD EARTH on cable, Sunday, sorting through my black patent high heels, my ball gag, my disposable latex gloves, dry condoms for my toys and lubed condoms, for his. Practiced walking in the heels; it has been years since anyone wanted to see me teeter in them.I put on my tight black opera length gloves, and run them over my naked breasts. I want to feel his body with these; I want to see them stained white.Yesterday, my period started, and I have a weekend of classwork and family and church, but next week I see him for the first time, after four years of shared orgasms over the phone, and for two brief days I will be his girl, on my knees, braced against him.I memorize the fellatio book. Hope the paddle and white stockings and cherry lip gloss come in time. Hope for a toy surprise from him, though it would be confiscated by the airplane feds.Once I get to the hotel, I'll dive under the shower, dry my hair, lotion and powder my skin, iron my skirt and shirt, put up my hair in plaits, dress, and lie on the bed, grinding my thighs, waiting for his call, his knock on the door, my sweaty palm on the knob, my bowed head, his business suit, his extended leg, my thighs wrapping around it, the wall we reach for, the kiss I need like water, the semen I eat, for it is of him.