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these things I read, but I don’t think Hendrix will do anything that sounds country like reverse cowgirl, no matter how pleasurable it may be. He really isn’t into kink. His idea of super kinky is car sex. I suggested a few things when we first slept together and he was appalled when I wanted to use a vibrator. I thought all guys were into the kinky shit. He does really like head. He really loves when I slob his nob, but I’m not really a fan. Blow jobs are something I do for him, because he enjoys them so much. That’s just nasty—so thick and salty. How have I gone twenty-one years and not swallowed? Easy. I spit into a napkin afterward. While I’m doing the deed for Hendrix, all I can really think about is still being in position and choking when he comes. I panic that I’ll die right there in that situation and they won’t be able to get my mouth closed for my funeral. Morbid, I know. But that’s my one hang up. Everybody has at least one hang up.
    My mind wanders from my reading. I wonder where Hendrix will take me tonight. I still get butterflies when we go out. I never know where we are going or if I have on the right clothes. I love when he picks out what he wants me to wear. My anxiety eases when he says, “Wear the navy dress tonight,” or “Wear that skirt and top.”
    Dressing for a man is fun and sensual. I follow the same ritual every time I get ready to go out with Hendrix. It’s all part of the “Impeccable Bailey Plan.” I layer on the lotion and powder then spritz the perfume followed by pulling my hair up so my neck looks elegant. Next is selecting the right lingerie to go underneath. Hendrix says there isn’t anything sexier than a garter belt and thigh high stockings. They are uncomfortable, and the heat makes me avoid wearing them. I like to keep things simple for the most part, a thong and lacy bra. Plus the color sets the mood for the night. Normally, pastels put me in a romantic mood, but when I want to let out my inner kink goddess to play, I go for something racier like red and barely there! Tonight, I choose pink. If Hendrix were to add candlelight, rose petals, and silk sheets, I would be complete putty in his hands. How do you tell your boyfriend you want him to do that stuff for you? You can hint, leave clues, and mention stuff, but I think the romance gene is missing in some guys.
    My phone dings again with another incoming text, pulling me from my wayward thoughts. I carefully lay down my e-reader and pick up my phone. Aww, it’s Hendrix!
    Hendrix: Hey, Sweetheart, how’s your day?
    Me: Babe! It’s great now that I’m talking with you!
    Hendrix: Aww, I hate to do this to you then.
    Is he cancelling?
    Me: What?
    Hendrix: I have a function I have to attend with my parents. I won’t be able to make our date.
    I haven’t met his parents, but I’d be willing to if it means I can be with him.
    Me: I can go with you as your date!
    Hendrix: I’m so sorry. They are making me take an old family friend.
    What? I type fast and furious.
    Me: Babe, you’re a grown man. They can’t make you take someone else.
    Hendrix: Bay, you don’t understand. This function means a lot for my future and they want me to be seen with this woman. Believe me, it won’t mean a thing. I might be able to swing by your place but it would be really late.
    Me: I guess, I just don’t understand why you have to take someone else. That makes me feel like you don’t think I’m good enough or something.
    Bailey, he just said his parents are making him take this woman.
    Hendrix: Love you, Sweetheart.
    Me: Yeah, you too, babe.
    Well, that is really disappointing. It’s more than disappointing. It downright hurts. Being replaced by another woman is the absolute worst thing. Will I ever measure up to his parents’ standards? They haven’t even met me yet so they’re being unfair by judging me already. I’ve tried so hard to be exactly what Hendrix wants, but I’m not sure if I will ever be good