Eric didn't tell me he was going to be home tomorrow. He waited until I'd texted the list of six infractions I'd been harboring. Two are mild, most likely thrown in to make the others not seem so bad. Two are bad, stupid stuff where I truly know better. Two are really, really bad.
I had a meeting at 3pm and Eric purposely called the minute I went into it so I'd have voicemail that could be replayed over and over again. When I returned to my desk, there were three messages.
Message one simply said, "You had better get your mind right tonight because tomorrow morning your ass is mine. 7am. I expect you to be in the corner, butt plug in place, implement box on the dresser and all pillows off the bed. By the end of the hour, you will have your focus back. That is a promise."
Message two was short but to the point. "One more thing, Amy. Take the wand off the blinds and have it sitting on top of the implement box. You think about that while you're falling asleep tonight."
And, message number three. "Hi Sweetheart. This message is not about tomorrow. I was just thinking about how incredible you are, how beautiful and intelligent and wonderful. I am so lucky to have you in my life and I'm not going to let you down. This is for you. This is all about you. Sweet dreams. Good night."
Yes, my stomach is flip flopping and I'm craving my man coming home. I'm so conflicted. I want, I want, I want... but then I get. Scary!!!!!