His Perfect Place

She had to hurry.  There was way too much to be done and way too little time.  No second lost, no movement wasted.  She ran into the house with her arms full of groceries, only fumbling with the keys half a heart beat, and getting frustrated at the iota of a moment lost.  Dropping the bags on the counter she buzzed from room to room.  'First, First, First..."  Opening the closet door, she grabbed the vacuum.  The floor had to be perfect.  Quick and with practiced precision, she sucked the unwelcome dust, dirt, hair, and everything else up, backing out of each room, careful not to leave a single foot print behind.  'Dinner!"  His favorite, cause nothing else would do.  Not tonight, anyway.  She felt the fear climb into her chest, "No NO NO NO....Dinner, I can panic later."  Garlic roasted potatoes, steamed asparagus, and roasted lemon pepper chicken.  Next, came the counters, spotless and relieved of clutter.  Windows, patio doors were to be smudge free, news paper and Windex, a girls best friend.  Grabbing a place setting from the china hutch she made her way to the dinning room.  Wine, red, napkin white, silverware, spotless, plate, charged.  PERFECT!   As she made her way through the house, she adjusted, straightened, smoothed.  Everything in it's place and perfect.  That is how He liked it, in it's perfect place.  Shower,  she could smell her own anxiety, if she could, so would he.  His preferred scent of soap and shampoo, He loved the way it smelled on her.  Using her towel she dried the tub and cleaned the bathroom.  'Time, time, time...hurry!"  Candles lit, plate made and set, wine poured....car???? "Shit!"  Quick glance around, she found her collar and leash, hastily dawning both she settled in the corner, everything in it's place and perfect.  With her head down on the back of her hands, she could not see him, but she heard him. Door lock clicking, opening , closing.  Keys dropped on the table by the door.  A slight pause, as he assessed the view.  A small groan of pleasure after a drawn out sniff of his dinner, still hot, right on time.  The chair legs scraping across the slate tile floor as he sat to his meal.  The occasional scrape of  sharp metal to pristine china, clink of crystal to polished wood.  Still she sat, on knees, head to floor, leash in mouth, waiting in worship, intoxicated with fear and elation. 

He watched her, out of the corner of his eye.  He could smell her fear, it was sweet and hot, and made his palms itch with anticipation.  He ate slow, letting his excitement build.  Letting her anxiety grow.  And still she sat, in her place and perfect.  Another growl of satisfaction followed by silence.  He watched her.  She was perfect.  His grin grew.  A sickly sweet kind of grin that always made the hair on the back of her neck rise. Sliding his chair away from the table, he passed by, and deeply whispered, "Come!" Just one short, sharp,  silent, spectacular syllable of a word, yet she jumped to her feet and blissfully  followed



This is one that I composed years ago, just wanted to re-share.  Thank you Becky for posting it on your page...what an honor to have such a loving friend.