Danny

There is something innately sensible about Danny.

His jogger jeans combo, motivational sayings posted on his wall, and framed registration of business name sitting proudly by his bed.

Danny writes lists, ticks them off and listens to business podcasts whilst vacuuming.

It's sexy though, a positive change from the drug dealers, tattoo'd writers and pseudo-Newtown-cowboys of my dating history.

I feel like i can exhale into his presence.
His chamomile tea with the bag left in and going to sleep wearing ear plugs and a sleeping mask.
I think through the people i know and conclude that he's probably the most likely to succeed at getting what he wants out of life.

He listens to spotify with the adds.

When I was younger my mum had a whacky friend called Jan Ford.
Jan Ford of Jan Ford real estate. She was thin and attractive and people loved to gossip about her, I liked her though she was always really encouraging and always hinted at the fact that maybe i wasn't meant for the small town i grew up in.

Once she got drunk at a party and licked my dad's face.
That same night she leaned into my 14 year old ear and slurred to me "the seeecret to marriage isss to marrry the nerd".

She said her husband was such a nerd that when g-strings first became fashionable he was worried about the hygiene of them, like there might be poo particles imprinted on them because because they would go so far into the behind of Jan Jord's tiny bum that he forbade her wearing them.

And While he's not what i'd call "the nerd", I feel like Jan Ford, of Jan Ford real estate would approve of my spending time with Danny.

Tonight I dropped him off to the opening night of Sydney Film Festival. He'd bought himself a ticket, not to enjoy the show but to network.
I'd never seen him in a suit before, Usually he wore track.
He looked Hot.
I told him that he was making me wet and he said not to be cheeky, his suit pants were tight enough as it was.

I go home, make a milo, leave it exactly 45 minutes and then send him a text.

"I want you to tell me to get on my knees and fuck my mouth"

“Fuck Bindi, Stop it”

My degree in gender studies nags at me that i shouldn't feel turned on by acting submissive.

Maybe I channel Marie Calloway, her cum covered face and and recent book deal.

But there's something in handing yourself over to someone.

"I want you to tell me to get on my knees and then fuck my mouth"

"And then I want you to tell me to take my clothes off while you watch me with your cock in my hand. Then you'll tell me to sit on the edge of the bed and spread my legs. You'll put your fingers in my mouth and start to tease my pussy. But I don't want you to give it to me yet because I don't think that you should make it that easy for me. I think you should make me beg you to fuck me, any where you like".

Some time passes with no reply.

I read these back and wish I hadn't sent the last one.

I wish I had said “tell me you want me to stop it”. 

It's seems to fit the part more.

But such is the beauty of hindsight...