That piercing was a painfulhumiliation, one that took some explaining, too. How I could ever manage to explain any more, I don’t know. But I worry-- She left me, almost a half hour ago, my hair fretted into a messy chignon, and now I wait on the bed, the sheets a tangle beneath me. I’ve been tossing, anxious. It doesn’t matter if I make things a mess. No one minds. The blinds are still open, the sun’s heat lighting my skin, easing me into my role. I am indelicately delicate, porcelain broken, chipped, stained, ready for daily use. I’ve been told to remember, many times now, I’m just a common slut. If I believe it, she says, it’ll come true. If I am that way, then I’ll believe. I don’t understand, but I’m not supposed to, any longer. Things aren’t for me to decide, anymore. The couple arrive, footsteps clattering outside. The man and the woman, they let themselves in. The woman waits at the door for too many casual seconds, with it open behind her. She wears dark sunglasses and a. Roger startled me when he asked, "Are you hunger, love?" Yes, now that you mention it I'm starved. Is there a little country inn that serves up good food nearby?" No, but how about a picnic?" Oh, Roger that sounds wonderful. You never cease to amaze me lover. You truly are a romantic, aren't you?" I thought it would be fun. That's all." Yeah right, and you haven't thought about getting a little reward for this bit of romance? Come on admit it you rouge," I teased."Rouge am I? I think I like that. Yes, I am a rouge and you are my wench." He smiled and I beamed since I was the cause of his smile.Roger found a wonderful little hide-away just after we turned off the main highway. It was packed with big trees, a stream tumbling down to a pasture below and there were horses running free in the pasture. It was very picturesque and romantic. Roger laid out a blanket, set out the food and opened a bottle of wine. Roger truly loves his wine. There are cases of it back in our apartment. I have.
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