Home after a long day. I go to the kitchen, a sphere of ice and a double whisky already in a tumbler. That was sweet of you. I make my way to the study and sit back into my chair and put my glass down onto my new table beside me. The condensation on the glass beads and slides. Collecting at the base of the glass and onto the metal bars. The water drips through the cage. The droplets hit your soft naked skin and you let out a whimper with every strike.
I’m not even thirsty, I just like to watch you squirm.
I like to watch you. So serene and peaceful. Sleeping, heavily, as if it’s the first real sleep you’ve ever had. I like to imagine it’s because some part of you knows I’m right here. Watching over you. Shielding you from what lurks in the dark. How ironic?
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