As I entered my shower, I began scrubbing my body to rid the paint that was indeed definitely on me. Did I paint myself? No way. Did my 'phantom' lover come in and paint my nude body with intricacy that was a work of art to behold? All I wanted to do was to get as much off as I could. I scrubbed my round soft breast's, feeling my body down to my private parts much to my own pleasure. I felt the paint run down my thighs, glad that it was becoming a thing of the past. And so was Dan.
As I was getting dressed, the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat when I heard that familiar voice. My eyes closed, and I took a deep breath, not thinking he would call. It was Dan! He wanted to come over and talk with me, but the first thing out of my mouth was that today wouldn't be a good day. Today, tomorrow, next week, any day at that very moment would not have been good. I wanted to see him again, but thought we both should wait a while until he returned, and he agreed to call me back later that night. I just stood there, knowing I had to focus on something so totally different at that very moment, as I wouldn't be alone for very long. I was glad it at least ended with him wanting to call me back later in the evening.
So there was this strange contraption decorating my table, and with my apartment lit in a red light, it looked like some freak show. I have all sorts of toys, after all, I'm a party girl, and I love to play games. All sort's of games. And while the game is on, I hear sorted secrets that have become a part of what happens in apt. 9. Dressing for the part, I had to focus on my next visitor due to come over shortly.
The idea of thinking for one minute if my party had been real or not was troubling to me. Was I in denial over a night of exotic pleasures that I didn't want to admit to? Why not? I had enjoyed whatever I wanted to, and this time wasn't any different. Denying what you like, is denying yourself, and I never denied anything I wanted to do, even if it was strange and bizarre.
I went into my bedroom, and dressed in stiletto's and dark nylons. I looked at myself in the mirror with approval. My guest who had just arrived thought the same. We talked for a short while, and he told me he loved how I looked. I told him it was just for him, but that couldn't be farthest from the truth. He set the pace, not knowing what was about to happen. He looked at the 'hand' and handcuff dangling from the small table, and thought that was a good place to start. It was.
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