Smutty bumps his head into my leg, a sure sign that he wants to be cuddled.
He curls up in my arms when I finally give him what he was begging for. His purring is calming and my mind drifts back to last night... and this morning. I can’t remember ever experiencing sex like I’m having with Ben. Not even when we were younger. This is a new Ben.
He’s attentive, he is caring, he’s dominant, he is… hot and knows exactly what buttons to push, literally and figuratively speaking. I feel safe and I feel like me in his arms and these are two sensations I haven’t felt in forever.
Movement in the garden catches my attention. Ben scoops up Robbie and makes him laugh out loud before they head to the shed and start taking out what appears to be art supplies.
I never thought of Ben as a father but there is no denying that he dotes on his nephew.
“Oh, Smutty, I think he’s stealing my heart,” I sigh. He rubs his little black head against my neck and chirps. “Yes, I know, he’s already stolen yours.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I whisper as we walk into the shop with blocked windows.
“Oh, come on! You can date a pleasure dom but you can’t go to a sex shop?” Samira rolls her eyes at me. I told her that I wanted to buy some nice underwear for Ben. I personally don’t get the appeal because I don’t tend to feel sexy in lingerie (more like a stuffed sausage), and I hate the feeling of the material on my skin. But if I play my cards right he’ll just rip it off me and I won’t have to wear it for long.
“Okay, what kinky stuff are you thinking about?” Samira grins.
“Nothing,” I mumble and my cheeks pink up, of course.
“Stop blushing and let’s see what we can get you.” She struts towards the underwear section. There isn’t much choice for underwear shopping near work and it was either this shop or Marks & Spencer, and Samira vetoed that because they only sell granny underwear. Her opinion, not mine.
“How about this?” she asks and holds up something that I’m not sure I know how to wear.
At my age my breasts no longer point upwards and instead droop downwards. They are soft and less firm, which means unless I have a full cup reining them in they’ll find a way to mysteriously flow out of my bra in a very unsightly manner. It’s like they turn to semi-fluid until they form some random bumps, making it appear like I have rippled breasts.
“Well, no!” I whisper-shout. Samira just shrugs and keeps browsing. I look around the underwear section until I spot a set that doesn’t look quite that uncomfortable. I look for my size but they only have it a size smaller. But it’s underwear. Sizing is not that accurate, right?
“I found some,” I mumble.
“Well, try it on,” Samira raises an eyebrow.
“No! I’ll try it when I get home,” I whisper. Ben has a business dinner so he’ll be back home late. Plenty of time for me to give this a go before he gets home.
“Maybe I should get something for my husband.” She lifts a tiny thong up. “I told him about Ben being a pleasure dom and he thinks I’m trying to trick him into ‘servicing me’.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. Samira has a lovely husband. She does complain about him regularly but deep inside she adores him.
“I had to Google the pleasure dom definition in the end to prove it to him.”
“So, is he giving it a try?” I giggle as we stroll towards the cashier.
“No. Frankly, I don’t think it’s for me either. I’m not really the submissive type.” She shrugs. “But we might try a swingers' club.” I stop abruptly and she bumps into me.
“Samira!”
“What? Did Ben not tell you? As long as both parties consent and it’s legal, it’s okay. So, no sex-shaming here, Miss I’m-submitting-to-my-Ex,” she winks.
Cue heat shooting back into my cheeks. I know, I know, I really need to get my shit together but I just can’t help it. And Ben never makes me feel silly when I get embarrassed. I have a feeling he likes that side of me. I'll miss living at his when Smutty and I move back home on the weekend. My boiler is finally done and I should be elated but I'm not.
We grab a sandwich on the way back to the office and by the time we get there my tummy is rumbling.
“Amelia!” Graham calls out as I walk past his office. Great, what now? I hand my shopping bags to Samira and step into his office.
“Hi.”
“The finance team has a complaint about this invoice. Anila emailed to say you refused to approve it. What is going on, Amelia?”
“Well, the invoice isn’t mine so I can’t approve it.”
“It’s for security analysis.”
“I know.”
“Amelia, who else would order an analysis?” He whines frustrated.
“Richard.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“Are you assuming or do you know that?” he asks.
“I know.” After I received the initial email from Anila I called the company and asked them who placed the order. I knew this would come back to me and I won’t take it this time.
Graham types something on his computer and I see Richard rise from his desk. We are all obsessed with the internal messaging service and Graham clearly used it to summon the twat.
“What’s up, Gra—" Richard grins at our boss, but ignores me.
“Did you order a security analysis for Balochistan?” Graham cuts off the little twerp, who is finally losing his smug expression.
“Yes, I needed it for—”
“Did you run it past Amelia?”
