“You should sleep naked tonight.”
I propose. Waiting. Hoping. Her eyes dart away. She can’t look at me. I love when she’s shy.
“Mmm, maybe… It’s kinda hot in here.”
I changed the AC to 85 degrees. She doesn’t know. I knew my plan was working when she slipped out of her lacy nonsense and turned off the lights. I’m ready. I hug her, kiss her…
“Whoa! You brought rope?” I ask, stunned. She’s quiet, wrapping me in a grip. Snug, hard, unbearable… “UGH! NO—STOP!”
The ropes untied. I can breathe again.
“Are you okay? I thought you could handle it,” she says.
The lights come back on. I’m blind. Gently, her beautiful face came back into focus, tousled black hair down her shoulders —
— and her tentacles…
“AHH! WHA—WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!” I yell, sheltering myself under our bed sheets from her bulky, lamppost length, slimy-pink octopus arms.
“I know what you did to get my clothes off tonight, so I figured, what the heck. Maybe you could play rough. I was wrong. Well, guess there won’t be anymore of your particular requests or tricks now.”
I’m silent as her monstrosities slither back inside of her, like snakes burrowing into skin pockets.
“Just so you know… Sometimes a soft brush down the back of my neck works, or gentle whispers of my beauty turn me on… Roses, or rope itself,” she declared, giggling, and shut the lights off.
I’m so scared…
Who is she?