Tuesday's Turgid Text: The Wet Corset
To satisfy the burning desire, he called on the telephone, wearing nothing but a wet corset.
When she didn't answer, he knew it was time for action. Her words echoed in his head, drowning out the rain that pounded relentlessly on the car roof. He punched the dashboard as her voice filled the car, instructing him to leave a message. He'd be damned if he'd leave a message; no, he needed to talk to her, converse with her...see her. He arrived at her house in record time and stalked to the front door. When he banged his fist on it, he was rewarded by the look of surprise on her face when she threw the door open. He stood silently, his arms crossed formidably over his muscled chest, his face forbidding.
He lifted an eyebrow. "I believe your words were, 'You don't understand how restricted I feel.' "
At her silent, wide-eyed nod, he continued, "I do now. Is this enough for you?"
She swallowed, then took a step back, revealing two people standing just inside the door. "I'd like you to meet my parents..."
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