When I awaken next, I smell breakfast cooking. Sylvie’s in the kitchen, Eric is in the shower and I’m alone in bed.
***
For the next week, life settles. Sylvie lives with us as though she belongs here. She’s the self-ordained cook and housekeeper, and does a decent job at both. When Eric comes home, she gives him head — and at that she is spectacular. He likes to beat her afterwards, but not every night. I can see she is a novelty for him — I don’t think he’s ever had a willing masochist before. I’m as willing to go sub as a wild cat; it is, after all, not a natural state for me, but rather one that’s forced on my rancorous spirit when the beastly demon of my past flares, arising irrationally and without provocation. Eric puts out the fire through physical means, which is about the only
