I sat on my bed, waiting for the doorbell to ring. Clad in nothing but a tiny black thong, my body was completely shaved and I was ready. I would have been nervous if I wasn't so ready, ready for him to leave his wife alone in their home and walk down the street to mine, ready for him to join me, ready for him to punish me like I knew he would after just one look, just one conversation. It was inscribed in his eyes. He was a man who took what he wanted. He was a man that could hear your heart beating through your chest and knew how to calm you with just one touch. He could fulfill each one of your needs then surpass expectations with glories you never knew existed.
My hair whispered against my cheek. The scent of my mango shampoo lingered down the hallway from the bathroom, into my room. I hoped he'd like it. I knew he wouldn't say.
He was scheduled to be here in exactly three minutes. An eternity. I sat completely erect, my feet tucked under my ass in the middle of my pristinely made bed. This is where he told me to wait. This is how he told me to wait. I followed his orders and I waited.
Images of him rushed through my mind. His strong hands, his rippling muscles, those eyes, that smile, his thick head of black hair. I wanted every part in front of me now. I wanted him to touch me, to overtake me without saying a word. Words were far from needed. His tongue would serve other purposes today. My lips parted in longing anticipation as my eyes drooped shut. I pictured him on top of me, inside of me. In my mind he was aggressive and demanding, confident and calculated. He was a smart lover, a successful lover.
Two minutes. Two minutes and he'd be all mine.
I would be nervous if I wasn't so ready.