The other night I was out with Mr. Vanilla and a bunch of friends. He was sitting down the table from me, engrossed in his conversation and I needed his attention. I looked at him and said, “Baby?”

Everyone looked up except him. I laughed at this failure of communication. Later that evening I thought back on this and a snippet of a fantasy came to mind.

The first thing that resters is the smell of eucalyptus/mint organic tile cleaner. My nose is rather suddenly and unexpectedly near the bathroom floor. The next thing that I process is that I didn’t, in fact, fall but was muscled to the floor – a handful of my hair used as a handle.

“Baby?” I manage to squeak out.

I see his toes curl surprisingly close to my face. Then, a tug at my hair signals me to rise.

“Baby isn’t here right now.”

The menacing tone here is unexpected. However, I’m not lifted all the way up. The tight grip on a clump of my hair slightly loosens.

Now, my face isn’t on the floor but instead I’m kneeling before his cock.

“Suck.”