Written in response to the prompt: Lost and Found

As a self-confessed neat freak, you’ve taken an age to get things ready. I’ve been waiting: showered, dried, and dressed in only a robe; sitting on the sofa just like you told me to.

There is nothing to distract me except the anticipatory murmurs of my body in response to the sounds of your preparations in the room next door.

When I finally hear the door open and your voice call out a low, “Come in now”, I slip off the robe and roll my shoulders back. I walk into the room – naked – my eyes performing a quick sweep of the set up before I remember I’m meant to look only at the floor. You chuckle. It makes you happy to know I’ve already disobeyed one of your orders.

“Onto the bed. On all fours.”

As I make my way to the mattress, I pass the table and the row of implements and toys you’ve selected. Each one lies parallel and equidistant to the next. I’m reminded of a scene in a Poirot movie where he lays out each item required to care for his trademark moustache, straightening each piece just so, aligning them with the tabletop and mirror.

If you had a moustache, it would be waxed and twirled, like a ringmaster’s. I smile a little at the thought.

You wait while I clamber into position on the bed and then you make subtle adjustments to my torso, hips, and limbs – like a yoga instructor would – until my body is evenly balanced and appeases your need for order.

I hear you step back to admire your work. And, once you are happy that everything is exactly as you need it to be, you warn me, “Now it’s going to get messy.”