Sunday, 4 March 2012


The board-meeting dragged and she had to be
sharp with one or two wafflers but at last
she could call a close and
escape to her one-night-a-month.
Leaving the Lexus she caught a cab to the
Docklands flat no-one knew about, her
other secret home, her
way out of the woods of work.
She stripped in the hallway, took from its hook the
thick leather collar with its
heavy leash and stepped into her
impossibly high heels, then wiped
thirty years off her age, shucked her
CEO ego and became simply a
schoolgirl slut for the men about to arrive
who would grab the leash and
yank her onto all fours, use her as they
pleased and leave her sore and
happy that for once she hadn’t made a
single decision.

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