One paragraph story... July 9 edition

“He’s probably cheating. That’s probably true. He never says my name when we have sex. I say his, I practically scream his, but never from him. I do everything he asks me to. Act demure, then wild. Wear the lingerie he buys me. Leave those dirty messages he likes on his phone while he is off working in Toronto. That’s not me. I’m not that person, but I do it because he asks me to. All I want is for him to say my name while we are making love. I consider myself a rather vanilla person- you know- in the scheme of things. I don’t need to be tied up. I don’t need to be called down to while we do it. Or get spanked. I know you like to do it Cindi, but I just don’t need it. I’m not old fashioned either. I get that some things get people off more than others. And I want to do what makes him happy… you know, within reason, but why can’t he just say my name. Roger used to do it, remember Roger. Ah, Roger from Winnipeg. The guitarist. Oh, that sexy way he’d whisper it in my ear while he bit my neck. Well, you don’t know that part, but you remember Roger, right. So hot, it made me. So hot. Trevor just keeps asking for things and I keep doing them, but nope, nothing for little old me. Anything, he doesn't care. Obviously. Got some chick somewhere. Probably back east, St. Catherines. HaHa. Why would I assume St. Catherines. Maybe it was in a song somewhere. Just having sex with her when he goes there for work. Checks my message from him. And let me tell you, I leave steamy messages- then he breathes her name. I tell you Cindi, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Did you ask him to?”

“What? No. Why would I? He should know. I mean I do all that stuff for him, he should know I have needs. I tell you what? I’m going to confront him tonight. Back his bags and he can move to St. Catherines and live with whats her face. Relationships are a compromise, you know, Cindi. One little thing. That is all I want.”

James C.