Hole

I’ll be waiting for you.

When you’re hard at work I’ll be prettying myself for when you become free. I’ll take a long slow soak in the tub, cover every inch of me with my fingers, slowly.

I’ll be waiting for you.

When you’re finishing up the day and I’m at home, putting on that little pink slip the one that shows my belly button, when I reach up and, stretch.

I’ll be waiting for you.

When you have a drink or two after work with your friends, I’ll be rolling up my stockings feeling the heat between my thighs, purring.

Oh, I’ll be waiting. For you.

When you come in through the door and sit down heavy in your favourite chair, I’ll be kneeling, at your feet, letting your big rough hand stroke my hair.

And you’ll be teasing, won’t you?

When your hand raises up my chin and your fingers probe my neck, and I’ll be watching you look over me, and offering myself to you.

And I’ll be yours

When you open your belt, one-handed, and take it out, and you give it to me and let me feed, and I’ll wrap my lips around you and move over you like waves.

I’ll be, for you.

And I’ll empty myself if you could only make me whole.

So I’ll be waiting. for, you.