I could have died.I could have died. I've never gotten over having said that. Sometimes I twitch with the sudden embarrassment when I remember it. But it's not fair to punish someone for a nervous laugh. That's like punishing someone for a hiccough. Of course, I couldn't explain that to J. I couldn't explain anything. I looked at him again. He was still looking at the fire. He wanted me to do something, not say something. That was obvious, even to a non-rocket scientist. I wiped more saliva from the side of my mouth. I was getting cold again, so I got up to go into the bedroom for the comforter. I looked at him to see if he objected. He didn't even look up. I was at liberty to do anything I wanted. Sort of. While I was getting the comforter, I noticed the bedside table was open; it was where he had gotten the blindfold. The drawer had a heap of chains and leather and padlocks in it. I wrapped the comforter around myself and after another mournful glance in the mirror, went back out. God, I looked awful. He glanced up, but said nothing. I sat down again. My jaw was starting to ache a little, and I needed to wipe my face. He wasn't going to let me back out of this gracefully. |