every time i buy cigarettes, i hate myself for it. the cost, the way i get out of breath, running for a bus now. the people i'm forced up too close to these days.
every time i light one, the taste reminds me that i don't like that, either. i need to stop. and soon.
i devoted lunchtime to running round the shops, paying a few bills. in the various queues i found myself in, i had plenty of opportunity to text Her back.
Her texts had started around eleven. She had to be in bored-at-work mode, i got two back for every one i sent.
following on from last night's phonecall, we were still discussing the various ways that i could fit into Her life. how i could maximise Her happiness, comfort and convenience. and pleasure.
it's strange that we fit together so snugly. how we reciprocate each other so well. the things i'm drawn to that She loves to inflict. the things She's mentioned that i've always wanted to try.
of course, it's hard to let go of my operating levels of cynicism. faced with Someone who so closely matches so many of the criteria of my personal set of values, it's difficult to really believe it's really happening.
in the gaps between our flurries of communication, i realise i'm looking for the catch, i'm trying to second-guess Her, work out what it is that She wants. Her under-the-counter agenda.
a Domme i used to know once told me Her rule-of-thumb was, "when it all sounds too good to be true, it usually is".
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