What the card is for

Earrings. Not a surprise. I had sent him the pair on a Tuesday and he had said yes in a sentence, which is how I take yes. At the counter he stood one step behind me and held the card out when I glanced back. The woman wrapping them called me lucky. I smiled like a person who is lucky on purpose.

The hotel was his idea and I had already agreed to it in the book. Box open on the desk. Dress still on. I sucked his cock in the chair until his hand hovered like he wanted my hair and did not quite take it, because he has learned. When I stood I turned, bent over the desk, and told him to fuck my cunt with the earrings on and the dress up. He fucked me steady. I watched us once in the dark screen of the television and then I stopped watching and felt his cock in my cunt, the even pace I had asked for. I came with my palm on the wood and the box clicking against my ring. He asked, close, if he could cum in my cunt. I said yes. This week, yes.

After, I put the earrings in properly and looked at him in the mirror. This is what the card is for, I said. Not a performance. A fact. He laughed, wrecked, and said he knew. I believe him. I slept in the dress for an hour and then I went home to my own bed, which the arrangement does not get to rename. The cellar can be his. The lease is mine. I like both sentences equally, and I like saying them with his cum still in my cunt on the ride down.