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His gift startled her.
She stared at it, disbelieving. Surprise leading to
recognition leading to joy and delight. And it was so simple, his gift.
A plastic bag. Nothing more. A simple bag that
groceries were delivered in. And it meant the world to her. "Are you sure?" She
asked, her voice trembling with a sudden build up of desire.
A nod, a whisper, "yes. I'm sure."
Her smile caused his heart to swell. He had debated
her request, pondered his response, and now with his answer clutched firmly in her hands
he knew he had made the right decision. It came down simply to a matter of trust.
And he did trust her. With all his heart, with his
soul, and with his life.
"I am not going to tie you up," she told
him her voice grating with passion. "I want you to hold yourself still.
Understand?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She could see something in his eyes; she wasn't
sure what it was. Fear, she thought, he was afraid. She bent down to where he was sitting
and kissed him passionately, her tongue snaking into his mouth. Breaking the kiss, she
whispered to him, "I love you."
"I trust you." His eyes displayed the
trust he was professing to have.
And for her that meant the world. Not just the
words, but the look on his face that told her he was telling her what he honestly felt,
the he truly trusted her. It had taken him almost two weeks to get to this point. Two
weeks of silent nights and cold days. She had thought she had driven him away with her
request, and now with his offering in her hands she knew he did indeed trust her; love
her.
Slowly she opened the bag and placed it over his
head. She was watching his eyes looking for a sign that he changed his mind.
He blinked once, nodded slightly, and smiled softly.
She clamped the end of the bag tightly around his
throat. She felt him swallow, nervously. Yet he did not flinch, did not raise his hands.
She held the bag snugly against his throat. She watched the sides of the bag shuffle in
and out as he pulled the last vestiges of air from the bag into his lungs.
She looked at his head; encased in a rapidly pulsing
plastic bag and felt more love for him then she ever knew was possible. She held his life
in her hands, the bag clamped firmly around his throat by her strong grip, and he did not
fight. Did not struggle.
He just sat there in a bag devoid of air, his lungs
burning. Fire climbing up from the bottom of his chest to the roof of his mouth. He wanted
to grab her wrist, pull her hands away from his throat, and rip the bag off of his head.
But he did trust her. And he wanted to prove that trust, show her how much he loved her.
He felt the last traces of air leave his burning lungs, and still he just sat there.
She could feel his body tense beneath her, and it
excited her. She knew he wanted to pull the bag away from his head, and the fact that he
held himself poised like a tiger prepared to pounce proved his trust. The muscles on he
arms were taut, and still he held himself still, sitting on his hands, unable to breathe.
Ten seconds passed, the bag pulsing like a beating
heart. Fifteen seconds. Twenty.
Finally he did move his arms. He pulled them from
under his thighs, and placed them in his lap, palms up. He fully gave himself to her
fantasy, her desires.
She began to cry then, her own heart full with love
for the man who sat there on the chair beneath her, her eyes growing red with the tears
rolling down her cheeks. She pulled the bag off his head, allowing him to breathe once
again.
His eyes were closed. He coughed once, then again.
He inhaled deeply, and opened his eyes.
He saw the tears in her eyes, the tears of joy, and
he whispered, "I love you."
And she smiled. |