When I come out of the shower and move back into my bedroom I’m pleased to see that my clothes for the day have arrived – riding clothes, thank god - and even more pleased to see a little note on top. I scurry over and grab the little white envelope, ripping it open.
It’s a simple, short note – as all of Kent’s are:
Everything is fine.
I owe you.
I smirk, a little, at how coy he’s being here. Because if anyone intercepted this note and read it before me, it’s innocuous enough to mean anything. But those words at the bottom? I know precisely what they mean. Who knew three short words could get me so hot.
But I sigh and toss the note in my waste basket, knowing that I have to wait, and endure much, before I get to that more pleasant part of my day. But I get ready quickly – drying my
