I had a lot of options for the letter L
Love Lust Labia Lunacy Lou Licking Lesbian Lube Las Vegas (where Adam and I are headed next week)…
But the one that won out is “Lost”…
& Found. Why?
Viper will think it’s because I’m going to tell you a story that he gets a lot of chuckles about that goes along with the phrase, but I’m going to do better than that. I’m going to tell you about lots of things that go along with the phrase. It’s up to you to figure out if they are “lost” or “found”:
- Lingerie (in a Las Vegas hotel room)
- A black buttplug in my office
- A glass buttplug on a concrete patio
- A job
- A vocation
- A bracelet that means the world to me
- An earring that meant the world to me
- A brother and a sister
- The love of my life (this might be a trick question)
- A chosen family
- A best friend from high school
- An old lover (or several)
- A set of car keys
- Shoes. Many shoes.
- Panties (also a trick question)
- A favorite black bra from Victoria’s Secret
- A beloved black dog
- A love of sushi
- A love of coding (this one might be contingent upon the time of day)
- My temper
- A friendship because of my temper
- My heart
- My mind
Okay, okay, I’ll stop being coy and tell you the story V wants me to tell. I was at work. He told me, for one unfathomable reason or another, to put in my (favorite) black butt plug and wear it for a prescribed period of time. When that time was up, I was to play with myself, thinking of a particularly dirty thing having to do with, say, certain people with whom I work (Sisters, okay?) and then I could remove it.
I did the thing.
And I came home and the next day, I looked for the plug.
It was nowhere to be found.
I spent all that evening and the next morning looking, fretting, stressing. OMG what if the sisters found it?? Before I finally had to confess to him: I might have left my black torpedo buttplug in the bathroom at work!
So of course, for days, (while it didn’t turn up and didn’t turn up) he gave me shit about it.
“Have you checked the Lost & Found?”
“What if they send out an email with a picture of it: ‘Anyone that can identify this object, please come to the receptionist’s desk to retrieve it…'” … And on and on.
I did find it, eventually. Exactly where it was supposed to be (no, not my butt.) But I think he had more fun thinking about it lost and found thah he’d had imagining it in my ass.