red
in the shower, i want you to tell me you are taking me dancing tonight, even though i hate clubs and you know that. i want you to be adamant about it when i complain, and tell me to dress my best because you want to parade me around like a prize: an exotic fruit from a distant country ripe for your mouth only. i want you to tell me to wear my perfume to drive other men crazy and that you will not let them near me. i want you to push me out of the shower and dry my hair while i whine about having to go out, why can’t we just stay home and fuck? i want to watch as you pick your favorite dress and tell me to wear it, laying it on the bed and opening my lingerie drawer to choose what will go under it, while i dry and cream myself. i want you to choose something i only wear for you, and look at me coldly when i refuse to wear it in public. i want to get mad at you, and tell you that, heading to the bathroom to put my make up on, and then you follow me and we take turns in front of the mirror while you shave and i fiddle around with brushes and curlers. i want you to look at me in the mirror and tell me to wear red lipstick because it makes my mouth look like my cunt, and you are keeping an eye on me tonight. i want to protest and see you walking away without a flinch. i want to curse you in another language under my breath, but continue to do my makeup. i want to complain about the heels as you check your wallet, place it in your pocket, grab your jacket. i want you to put it on and walk slowly to me and run your hand up between my thighs, saying i look lovely. i want to bargain and try to manipulate you into staying home, but i want you to ignore me and reach for my coat, and make me put it on while i sigh in resignation. i want you to hold my hands and half-raise my arms, and say something is missing, where is that necklace with the pendant? i want you to tell me to go get it, and put it around my neck and kiss me right where your fingers had been when you are done fastening it, and lick my shoulder and make me moan. i want to turn around and try to kiss you to convince you one last time, but i want you to hold my wrists and say no, we are going out, enough of this. i want to have tears brimming my eyes as i get my purse and follow you out of the bedroom and into the hallway, because i’d really rather stay home and fuck you until you cannot move. i want to see you disappearing into the door on the left and check my hair one last time, and then you come out and there is music playing where you were just moments before, and when you pull me into the living room there is not much time for me to understand you have fooled me again, and we are doing our own dance, and i am looking at the only place we will be going to tonight, while you bend me over the couch and take me from behind, prodigy swallowing your name which is dancing on my lips while your fingers get smeared with chanel rouge crème in fire.