In the anonymous dark of the theater, his hand repeatedly buries itself in his coat pocket, rolling the silken material of her underwear over his fingers. He presses his fingers under his nose. God, the scent of her is driving him mad.
Sofie knew God didn’t exist but after six weeks without an orgasm she figured Ernie Pyle was onto something when he claimed there were no atheists in foxholes. She knew a thing or two about entrenched warfare, knew it all too well.
Fear and excitement combine, making me dizzy as I settle across his lap. My muscles grow tense waiting for the spanking. He’s dragging it out this time. I flinch each time he caresses my ass, expecting the sting of his slap instead of tenderness.