“No excuses. You know better.”
“Do I?” you say before you can stop yourself.
I grin.
“Do you need a reminder?”
Over my knee, you grab onto my ankle. Silky nylon. A moment of softness before my hand meets your skin. Hot and stinging.
You reach your hand back, without thinking. I grip your wrist at your waist.
Next you feel wood. Your weakness. Until you’re a puddle on the floor.