“Peut-être”.
With that hint of encouragement, Your guest transfers her gaze and looks intently to me as a smile forms on
her face. Responding in kind, I offer a smile in her direction with a hint of mischievous glint in my eyes. Her
voluptuous breasts rise with an intake of breath and her hand reaches forward with extended fingers. In a
blink, You intervene, take her hand firmly in Yours, and offer a polite “Au revoir”.
A stern look in my direction as You close the door reminds me of my manners. “Peut-être, mon jouet, mais
peut-être pas.”
Somewhat downcast in the moment, the image of this woman lingers. After some days the memory dissipates
but the excitement remains. I retain vivid images of that afternoon watching the two of you together.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
And now, weeks later, we stroll hand-in-hand along a street unfamiliar to me but which You have walked
before. As we approach a secluded piazza, I notice a charming café to one side with a solitary figure seated in front.
As I realize who she is, I’m barely able to restrain my smile.
Polite greetings are exchanged; You order coffee and pain-au-chocolat for both of us.
Puzzled, I silently observe the proceedings. Light conversation is confined to innocuous topics. But, I sense
there is something more to this meeting.
Our refreshment arrives and the conversation continues unabated. The coffee is fine, but tastes bitter in my
dry throat. The pain-au-chocolat has no attraction for me. My intuition frightens me.
As You finish the coffee, she leans over and reaches into a satchel beside her chair. Fumbling briefly within,
her hand emerges holding a collar.
Transfixed, I don’t notice You reach behind me until I feel Your fingers begin to unfasten the buckle on my
collar. Turning abruptly, I look into Your eyes, shake my head, and plead, “Non”.
You take the collar and walk swiftly away as she rises, smiles, and moves to place her collar on my neck.
Terrified, I rise abruptly, knocking the chairs aside and run after You. But, You have vanished.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
With a start, I bolt upright and look about the dim room. My pulse is racing and I cannot control my
breathing. My pillow and the sheets are clammy with my sweat.
Rising, I compose myself as best I can and walk silently along the familiar hallway to Your room.
Unannounced, I move the door aside and enter. You are asleep.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I lay on the floor at the foot of Your bed.
In my Pagan fashion, I offer to the woodland spirits a silent prayer of thanks that You are possessive.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
With many thanks to Zaphod Button who owns the copyright of this story.
Previous Chapters:
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/tuesday-february-14-2012-possessive.html
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/tuesday-january-24-2012-possessive.html
http://monseulcaprice.blogspot.it/2013/01/friday-december-23-2011-possessive.html
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