I’m all cleaned up and ready for bed when my gaze settles on my Carytown book nook. While I’m still basking in the aftershocks of what we did, I sit at my table, turn on the light, and rummage through a bin of clear plastic bits in search of the perfect material to make a ruler.
I’ve never put myself in one of my models, and I’m honestlynot sure I can do so now, but the urge to immortalize the way I felt tonight is strong. So I set to work.
My body’s humming low and constant like a high-voltage power line, so the vibration of my phone doesn’t immediately register.
When it does, I scramble to get it out from under me. Too late.
A second later, a text comes in.
Grant: It’s Grant. Answer the phone.
My pulse flicks up into overdrive.
Me: Bossy much?
Grant: Part of my charm. I’m calling you. Answer.
The annoyance that drums up is nothing compared to the excitement I feel as I answer his call.
“Hello?”
“Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“When did you get there?”
“Oh, maybe half an hour ago.” A look at my screen says it’s been longer. “I kind of lost track of time.”
“You didn’t text, Rae.”
Too busy thinking about you.Well, and cleaning up after sick people. And making the world’s tiniest spanking ruler. “Oh, shit. I forgot.”
He growls. “You’ll have to do better than that, Sunny.”
I go instantly pliant at the sound of my kink alias.
“Okay, sir.”
“First. We should go over the club checklist you filled out.”
Whoa, okay. I can do that.
“I need a response, Sunny. Yes, you’re fine with it, or no, you’d rather not?”
“Yes,” I rush to reply. “Absolutely.”
“Good. And then we’ll discuss your punishment.”
“Punishment?” I whine, like the good little brat I apparently am. Wait. Are brats good or bad?
“For not texting the second you got home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to make it up to me.”
“Okay… sir.” Way too worked up from the direction the conversation’s going, I turn off my desk light and get into bed. “Should we do that now or…?”
