(Mrs. Hot is having thrilling summer adventures. The latest inspiration, titillation and transformation returns in October.)
IN WHICH MY MAN SPEAKS SOFTLY AND CARRIES — WHAT ELSE — A BIG STICK.
Boko Haram, a fanatical terrorist group in Nigeria, had kidnapped a couple hundred girls; the president announced the deployment of special forces to the area. When Mark went missing for three days, I worried like crazy, sure he was involved.
Finally, the tossing and turning that had come to be my sleep was interrupted one night by a Yahoo Messenger alert: Lieutenant Hot had been deployed to the area. As a Navy Seal he couldn’t speak of where he was or what he was doing, but newshound, culture vulture and world traveller that I am, I put together geographical and other clues he let slip: my man was on an important mission, rescuing helpless little girls.
Now Mark’s return home would be delayed indefinitely: the two to three month stint in Kuwait was no longer part of the plan. As much as this disappointed me, I felt so proud of him, on one hand, while on the other, the delay was giving me an extra dose of time to lose more weight. Though no matter how much I lost I’d still have the problem of sagging skin to deal with, I hoped he would understand. He was so nice and, after all, if he truly loved me then that love would be unconditional; his acceptance and patience would prove he deserved me.
Anyway, when I was lying down my skin filled out, and I anticipated beaucoup hot hours in that prone position. I would get the skin tightening surgery soon, anyway. In the meantime, I still looked forward to Lieutenant Hot’s incursion; surrendering to him would mean raising my white flag of, well, second virginity.
I only hoped he carried a very big stick indeed.
Yours truly,
