The chair on which I’m now sitting – picturing you, here, sat on the same chair, in the same hotel room, typing into the same laptop, just a few hours ago.
The carpet on which we picnicked together.
The armchair on which your clothes were strewn.
And, of course, the bed.
Over which you bent, as I made sure you were a very soundly thrashed young lady.
Very.
And on which we hugged, and cuddled, and touched, and melted into one another. Exhausted one another.
Every part of the room is touched by your presence.
Or rather by your absence.
You’d needed that punishment. Needed to cross that boundary, from e-mail to real life. Needed me to lecture. To turn you over my knee. To spank you slowly, hard, as we discussed your behaviour. To stripe you with the cane, until you felt like a good girl once more.
Needed me to lie next to you on the bed. To massage your shoulders and run my fingers down your back. To run my fingers ever-so gently across those weals, raised and hot, feeling you flinch to my touch. To hold you, and comfort you, and love you. To let you fall asleep wrapped protectively in my arms.
Sleeping, dreaming. With you. Not letting go.
And now I should be sad. Sad that you’re not here. Sad that you had to leave.
As sad as I felt when I stood and watched the train pull out from the platform this morning. As I stood, waved (and yes, I dare admit) cried as it disappeared from sight, taking you away.
I could feel so alone. But I don’t.
I’m smiling. Smiling fondly at the screen, as I type and think of you.
Smiling at the thought of our wonderful weekend. Filled with so many experiences that I could write a whole book, not a short story. Could fill the screens of readers online for months on end with post after post: what we’d talked about; what we’d done; what we’ll do.
Smiling at the picture in my mind of your happy, beautiful, kind face. Held in my palms as I gaze dreamily into your lovely eyes, and kiss you softly.
Smiling at how calm, and relaxed, and joyful I feel with you in my life.
I’m not alone.
You may not be here. But you are with me.
And I’m so blissfully happy.
I reach out and dial your number…
