“Yes, sir!” she said eagerly. “Would you do the honor of sliding it up my ass, please?”
“Of course, pet,” I said.
I got out the lube, and she moaned as I pushed the well-lubed butt plug into her tiny hole.
“Oh,” she said. “It feels so big in my ass. And I can keep this in all day?”
“Yes,” I said. “You have to get your ass ready for my cock.”
“Mm, I can’t wait to have your cock in there.” She smiled. “Just thinking about it makes me wet. Thank you so much, sir, for giving me such pleasure.”
Dixie was a wonder. She tried everything I asked of her, without question. She followed instructions and enjoyed my stern hand. Could I ask for anything more?
I told her to have a good walk as I went back to my computer to look over more financial charts. We wouldn’t be breaking any sales records this quarter, but if things held on for another month… Hopefully, we’d come out of the lockdown more or less intact. We had, at least, saved a bit of money by closing the building and working from home.
Just as I was about to check on Dixie, Sam called. The government’s loan program was progressing for us. If we got the loan, not only would it be low interest, we wouldn’t have to pay it back, as long as we spent it according to the government’s wishes.
Since this would cover our payroll for a few months, I dropped what I was doing to help Sam fill in the rest of information for the loan. After an hour or so, he was ready to file online at midnight on Sunday, the moment the banks opened.
At that point, the call ended, and I realized the time. Dixie had been gone for a few hours, which wasn’t like her. Something was amiss. I picked up the phone, but hesitated. Didn’t I have to trust her? She probably had a perfectly good reason for being late. Maybe she ran into some old friends, or just lost track of the time. Maybe someone had asked for her help and she got caught up, just like I did.
Then, I got some dark, negative thoughts. What if Dixie wasn’t the person I thought she was? Foolish old man taken in by a younger woman… It wouldn’t be the first or the last time. I didn’t want to believe that anyone, much less Dixie, would play with my heart so callously.
I stared at the phone, trying to decide whether or not to call her. I had been in relationships as a young man and been intensely jealous and possessive sometimes. That’s what love does to young people; it pushes their natural instincts into overdrive.
Back in high school, I was so paranoid that a girlfriend had been cheating on me, I followed her around, checked on her whereabouts, and demanded mutual friends give me pertinent information. All it had done in the end was drive away the very people I was interested in. So, instead of getting information and becoming more secure in the relationship, I could never get enough information to satisfy me, and I’d end up distancing from the girl.
I told myself that Dixie wasn’t like that, but I had no third party, empirical evidence to confirm that. That was the problem with love: It’s all emotion-based. When you’re feeling good, everything is right, even when it’s wrong. And when you feel bad, everything is wrong, even when it’s right.
If I called and she answered, would she feel that I was suffocating her? That I didn’t trust her to be a little late on a walk? Was this a test? I had girlfriends in the past that would develop little “tests” for me, to see how I’d react in certain scenarios that they would concoct.
I hoped Dixie wasn’t like that. If she was, then I had totally misjudged her. To manipulate someone just to test their own insecurities seemed wrong. No, I didn’t think so. Dixie was not so Machiavellian that she would do this.
Still, if she were in trouble… What if she had twisted an ankle in the woods, and I didn’t come looking for her? And she arrived home four hours later, wondering where the hell I’ve been? She could be out there now, dragging herself across the forest floor, trying to make her way back to the house.
Wait! Perhaps my phone was off and she’s trying to call! No, it was on. It would’ve buzzed, or I would’ve gotten a notice under “recent calls.” I mean, if she did call and I didn’t get that notice, I would definitely have an excuse as for why I didn’t answer, but not for why I didn’t go looking for her.
I got up and walked into the living room. Opening the curtain to the front, I looked out the window. As I did so, I convinced myself I’d see her coming down the street, that this was all for nothing and I was simply worried to be worried. I had allowed my brain to over think the situation. Surely now, she’d be walking through the door.