Golf Widow

We're two ships passing in the night, lately it seems. Life happens in rapid fire at times. When the house down street went on the market, Daddy decided to tell his brother about it. This was at the beginning of summer, snapped it up, bargained for a new roof, and moved in before we returned from the lake. Each morning they drop in for coffee, stay for breakfast and now the weekends, while the weather is good, spent golfing.

It's led to a slightly disgruntled mouse, jealous of his social life that obviously excludes her. Please don't suggest that she take up golf, because she's completely uninterested, aside from him showing her how to swing by standing behind her, holding her close as she clutched the golf club. It made her wet, she blushed and could think of nothing else.

Back to the ships sailing in opposite directions, but the port seems to be our bedroom, where each night, we briefly touch on high points of our day -- well, the high points that don't involve projectile vomit. We cuddle for a few minutes and fall asleep. Then rinse and repeat. Each day blending into another. We didn't even have the time for mouse to rack up demerits, so maybe this wasn't a bad thing after all?

Suddenly, as mouse poured some coffee it hit her, he's going through a selfish phase.

Several days passed last week without a blog post from mouse, and Daddy seemed too busy to notice. Still with the lack of time together also means less chances for mouse to make bitchy mistakes that would result in demerits and...then again...

There's been no time for much else. Oh sure he gets his morning service, but there's been no time for anything else.

So there, in the morning as mouse poured coffee and plated yet another breakfast for extra people, she began to feel...oddly...strangely submissive.

Damn that sub brain, twisting things that would have any other woman livid and feeling diminished, yet making mouse all hot and bothered. When she looked up Daddy was looking at her. Yes, mouse was blushing before she realized she had caught his stare.

We met up with Lucy and Schroeder that evening at their home and it was there mouse had the feeling again, except this time it felt sterile, and oddly vanilla. Later as cocktails were served mouse realized how far we'd drifted. When had this happened? He was discussing something work related and mouse had no clue about it. A few white Russian drinks for mouse later and she was again feeling cozy with Daddy's hand hitting that comfortable space on the small heir her back.

As we approached the car at the end of the evening, Daddy gave mouse a hard slap on her bottom. Thank you Sir.