He tells me he’s going to do bills.
I go take a shower, letting the water warm me up, thinking of what I’m going to do. I form the words, repeat them to myself about a million times. I step out, put on a cute lacy cami and my tight yoga pants. I pondered the black lacy baby-doll negligee, but decided that I wanted my words to do the talking this time, because that was what I needed to work on. The words and the action.
I look myself over, and head to the living room. He’s still on the computer. Well hell, I didn’t plan for that in the little scene that took place in my head. I pictured us standing, and me looking up into his eyes, hands on his muscular (hot!) triceps. Ok, whatever, I’ll do it anyway. There’s not a lot of room around the computer chair, I can’t kneel down next to him, and there are arms on the chair, I can’t just sit in his lap without it being really awkward. Well crap. I walk up, put my hand on his shoulder, and wanted to say:
“Spank me like I deserve it, then fuck me like you own me.”
What actually came out of my mouth…
“So, you’re not doing bills anymore?”
FUCK. But he laughed, and I think he knew I was trying to tell him something, even if my brain couldn’t form the sentence. He tried to get me to say what I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t squeak out. I felt ridiculous. He took over.
The evening ended well, but why the hell can’t I just SAY what I want to say? Why do I get so stuck in my head?
