Out loud.
Concentrating harder on the store to try to make more sense of it the second time.
“Follow the scent?”
I sniff the air. Wood. Dust. Vanilla?
Nothing.
I turn and notice a rope toy at the bottom of the stairs. Sniff out the toy. What kind of kinky fetish is this?
I walk over and pick it up, finding another note tucked inside the loop.
You’re close. Shake your tail.
I blink.
“Okay, what the fuck?” I glance around. “I ain’t shaking my tail.” My shout echoes back at me.
What am I looking for?
I glance around and spot a bright rubber ball sticking out from under the couch. I crouch and pull it out. Another note is taped to it.
Good boy.
Why do those two words excite me?
Fetch. But great boys find the prize upstairs.
I stand slowly, turning the ball in my hand like it might explode.
My brain short-circuits in a good way. I’m up for whatever kinky fetishes my woman wants to play. We’ve already dabbled in candle wax and silk scarves, tested the limits with blindfolds and ice cubes.
She surprised me with that feather tickler, and it was an experience I’d repeat.
And don’t even get me started on the massage oils that somehow ended up everywhere except where they were intended to be.
So this? A new kind of game. A challenge I’m ready to take on.
Bring it on.
No matter how wild or weird, I’m all in.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, she always knows how to keep me on my toes, and I fucking love every second of it.
“This better be some weird sex thing,” I say, as I make my way to the stairs.
Something shiny catches my eye. Two leather collars, draped over the banister. Stitched. High-quality.
I pick them up and find another note.
Time to come when called.
I squinted at the words.
“Fuck yes,” I say out loud. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
The boards creak under me, and I pray they don’t collapse as I skip the two at a time.
