Love never comes with a brochure of rules and regulations, a prospectus with guides of what is acceptable and what is abominable.

Quote from Truly, Madly, Deeply by Faraaz Kazi

“What if I really do love you, don’t you even care?” I burst out with more emotion than either one of us had shown all day. His hand lands a stinging slap on my freezing cheek. He walks away like nothing happened. The hotel entrance is just a few feet away, street lights on, a cold night to be outside. He disappears. I stand outside, across the street, and wait for the lights in our suite to go on. A few minutes later they do.

“I hate you!” My outburst becomes a downright scream. Tears roll down my cheek. I’m so frozen at this point, I don’t even feel my own skin. He keeps the lights low inside the warmth of our 8th floor oasis. “Asshole!” Windows open around me, not his. I’m clearly an embarrassment. I have every intention to keep it up until I get a reaction from him.

Dinner had been nice, but bland. After two days, the normal enthusiasm was gone. He just wasn’t into any of the normal shit he gets off on. No attempts at humiliation, bondage, no fucking, not even a blow job. We barely spoke. He’s not a big speaker anyway. What is it about men, dominant men? Are they all like that? Change mood and won’t even talk about it? Then they get all upset if someone who cares wants to do something special. “Go to Hell!” I scream again in his direction; the cathedral just a block behind me.

I’m not going anywhere. I’d rather freeze to death and traumatize him for the rest of his life. He fucks me when he wants, ignores me, hurts me, degrades me, and I let him. “Fuck you, bastard!” My voice is hoarse from the cold. He’s not coming back for me. I can’t stay outdoors for much longer.

During dinner, I had tried to surprise him by wearing my catsuit underneath a beige pullover and my black winter coat. He had paid no attention to what I was wearing leaving the hotel. Normally he’d be all over me, groping, touching, spanking, all in a playful way. Tonight, nothing. He was emotionally absent. I figured he’d warm up when he realizes I took the initiative to get ready for some naughty, after dinner, pictures.

I had to get him out of his funk. Why? I don’t know. We already had our talk and he didn’t seem to be in the mood of wanting to change our relationship at all. He liked the ‘pay-for-service’ arrangement I so hated. Granted, I jumped the pregnancy on him, which probably wasn’t so cool and may explained his dampened mood.

Since breakfast, his mind was somewhere else. I have no idea what made me think this was a good time to give ‘the talk‘ another try. Sometimes, difficult talks are easier after a good blow job and some scrambled eggs, while spending the morning naked in bed. This was not one of those mornings. I wanted to ask him about our future; what he felt for me. I never did. I was a wimp. But now no more.

Walking back to the hotel, I open up my coat despite the freezing cold. “Come on, just a few pictures.” Shit this is cold. Whoever said catsuits retain heat never wore one in Russia in the early winter. “I can’t stay like this long, I already can’t feel my face against the wind.” The cold is bad, but the wind is worse. Straight into the face, at quite a few degrees below freezing, the slightest breeze feels like an arctic blast.

Without a hint of enthusiasm, he takes a few quick shots, then buttons up my coat again. “Thanks, my love.” I don’t feel my lips and still give him a kiss. I can’t feel his lips either, but there is no warmth coming my way. “I love you.” He fires back a curt “shut up.” I’m on a roll. “What if I really do love you, don’t you even care?” I burst out with more emotion than either one of us had shown all day.

His hand lands a stinging slap on my freezing cheek.

“I hate you!”

“Asshole!”

“Go to Hell!”

“Fuck you, bastard!”

The balcony doors open. “Come inside, you’ll freeze to death. You’re no good to me dead.” He steps away from the doors and closes them slowly, as if waiting for me to scream something up to him in response. I know it is too late, but I have one more passionate outburst in me before he disappears completely behind the soundproof glass doors.

“I love you.” My failing voice calls helplessly into a howling gust of icy wind.

F4Thought