My mind is not on my work. The minutes and hours have been slipping past me, all the while I’m remembering the feeling of your skin on mine. Your smell. The way you squirmed against me until I tied you up, and the way you writhed after. The way your voice changed, soft and pleading when I made you beg. Your body. And how it was different than I’d expected it to be before we took off all your clothes. Your hands pinning my arms wide by the wrists. Your ass pressing up into me, firm and soft all at once. I’ve been trying to reply to an email for hours, but the only words that come to mind are things like Fuck Me and Ask For What You Want, Be Specific and No No, Please, Don’t. I’m looking at the screen but I’m picturing the crisp lines of your tattoo, the hairs still short and prickly. I’m reliving the moment you pleaded No and I hesitated before I saw your eyes and realized you meant Yes, since the functions of No had already been transferred to another word. I’m tasting your cum. I’m feeling the gravel under our feet and the brick against our backs. Time keeps slipping by and it’s harder and harder to remember which task I was trying to complete. The hours we spent not sleeping are taking their toll, but I’ll gladly pay. Thank goodness it’s Friday.