It’s been awhile. I know.
This morning I woke up thinking of freedom. Shocker right? Seeing as it’s July and all, but the type of freedom I’m referring to is personal freedom. Where does it come from? And who’s to say what it means to you, or to the neighbors across the street, or to that couple sitting on the park bench?
Look more closely.
The woman gazed at the clothing laid out on the bed, designer fitted dress or leather and chain? What would she wear? Who would she be tonight? Her heart pounded, palms sweated.
Her fingers caressed the edge of the dress, black and elegant. It sang of upscale restaurants, limos, men with suits.
Her hand moved to the leather, subtle and soft but speaking of dominance and obedience. The riding crop laid out next to it spoke of… other things.
She placed her hands in the middle, just as he came into the room, the man who gave her the freedom to be both.
She picked up the riding crop…