The Chameleon
I awaken to the buzzing sound of the alarm clock and roll sleepily from his bed, alone this afternoon as He is already at work for the day. Crossing to the bathroom I smile seeing the mess He left behind, using the toilet first and showering, I tend to the cleanup, already humming as I bring the bathroom sink and then His shower back to its shine.
Naked and wet, I make the bed, fingers lightly trailing down His pillow, my heart pulsing quickly in thought, a soft murmur of extreme pleasure as I draw the sheets and covers up, placing the show pillows neatly in their spot before drying off and dressing for my night.
Into the kitchen for the cleanup I knew would be there, I lift His cup from the sink and kiss the edge where He sipped from, washing it out before placing it away the spoon quickly follows, a damp sponge touching the table for a quick swipe, I look around as I push His chair in and smile... much better.
The great room looking untouched from any use I kneel by His wingback chair, my cheek to the cushion, I await His call.
This is my time of reflection. It happens like this every time I wake up alone. The realities of work and life outside His doors always makes me sad, but the feeling here, at home, are deliciously intense, I moan with thoughts of Him again. I feel my breaths quicken, my thoughts of Him bring me to this place. The place He wants me, the place He brings me all the time, the allowance to go there on my own now, I feel the wetness and roll in pleasure at the side of His chair, a burning need to touch, to be touched, but no touching is done, I know so much better now.
I never expected this, never thought anything this wonderful could ever truly be, but here it was, and here I was, His and only His. There is no way to explain it, and when I try I just end up crying in happiness. The burn, the need, the want all there, all so fluid and wonderful, all so deep and vulnerable, yes I am His.
The phone rings and I tremble as I lift it from its base, His voice makes me stop breathing for just a moment, His words bring me back to Him again and our conversation commences as I feel my face flush, my body respond, my heart ache even more. As we say our nightly goodbyes, I smile. Finally able to go on to my fake world outside His doors.
I am like a chameleon.
The outside world is my have to world. We both need to work to survive. We both need to be what the world expects us to be. So dull, almost like a robot as I go through my night. My mask tightly placed so nobody really sees me, nobody can afterall they would never understand.
Through the busy night I think of Him, my only real thought is being at home again. Thankfully the importance of what I do takes over and the night flies as quickly as it can. My body aching, my mind needing once more to be fed, my heart pounding at its normal rhythm, my mask remaining in place for the remaining hours.
Finally time for home! I cannot get there quick enough, the racing of my heart once again threatens to pound from my chest, the mask pulled free, my reality so close. I wish every light was green, every other car parked, please just let me get home.
Quitely now, quietly I say to myself as I put the car in park and take those few steps to His door. Turning the key and entering I feel the blood rush through me, I am here, nothing can bother me now. I feel Him even before I see Him in His favorite chair. He calls me to Him and so quickly I go. His arms open wide I climb high into His lap, curling up against Him as He wraps His arms around me and whispers into my ear.......
Yes, I am home, the chameleon is once again home.
