In the early morning before Christmas, you're sleeping in our bed. I'm sitting in the dark front room, lit only by the pulsing coloured lights from our tree. It's cold but the laptop on my knees is going some way toward keeping me warm. I know that eventually, you will read this (maybe later today, maybe days from now). When you do, you will know that I was thinking of you while you were oblivious to the world.
I can see you smiling, picturing me sipping my coffee between sentences. I was too excited to sleep. I can't wait for you to be sitting here next to me as you unwrap your presents. Three vanilla gifts and one kinky, that was the deal (a deal I am pretty sure you broke). There are eleven gifts under the tree, four from me to you, two from us to the dog, four from you to me, and plus one more. For whom is the extra gift, I wonder?
Gift One: A framed print of your favorite Dali painting, Melting Clocks. I remember how you kept staring at it when we saw it in the museum. I can't wait to watch as you contemplate on which wall to hang it.
Gift Two: the highest-rated rice cooker I could find online. You love rice but hate cooking it. I don't think you've ever successfully cooked rice without burning some of it to the bottom of the pot. Now that is a thing of the past!
Gift three: An older hardcover copy of your favorite book, Kafka on the Shore, by Haruki Murakami. I wanted to tell you that I spent hours in old bookstores trying to find it, but when you read this you will know the truth: I won it on an eBay auction.
Kinky Gift: I got you a custom collar for you to wear around the house because I don't think you'd be brave enough to wear it in public. It's pink with two words in shiny metal: "His Slut." I hope you're at my feet when you open it, wrapped in a warm blanket. Your hair is all messy as you hold it up for me so I can place the collar where it belongs. I make it tight but not too tight. You hug my leg telling me that you love it.
After we give the dog his rawhide bone and new rubber ball, I will take you into the bedroom and put you on all fours at the edge of the bed. I will stand behind you and you will be naked except for the new collar. I will grab you by your hair as I ease into you. You will feel my thickness stretching you when I demand you answer me: "To whom do you belong?"
Merry Christmas, Darling. You gave me an extra present, so let me give you yours.
Lead image: "Photo" of an older man generated by This Person Does Not Exit