Yesterday afternoon, Em called me to tell me that she'd be a little late getting to her place, where we were to have dinner and where I was spending the night.
"Will you do something for me, sweetie," she asked.
"Sure, what?"
"Will you run the vacuum, dust...oh...and change the sheets on my bed?"
"Of course, Em. Um, you want me to change the sheets in the guest room, too," I asked her, thinking of course of Even, her friend who was spending the weekend.
"The guest room," she asked, sounding surprised. "Oh, you mean," she chuckled. "Sure, hon, why don't you change the sheets in the guest room, too."
Why would the guest room sheets need to be changed? So Evan could sleep there. Why wouldn't it matter to her (or at least, why would she pretend it didn't matter)? Because he wasn't going to sleep there, he was going to be in her bed.
She teases me, oh, how she teases me. Letting her know about my fantasies was the stupidest thing I ever did. The best, too.
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