"I Like Your Mind"

Sometimes when SugarAnne wakes up she peeks into the den. It's 4:30 a.m. I'm a light sleeper, an early bird. So I’m up. Sug’Anne’s the exact opposite. She sleeps hard – and late. Every now and then, on the way to the bathroom or to the kitchen for water, she'll peep into the den and toss in a “Hi BabyMan!” This morning I’m able to slice through the groan/chirp paradox. I mentally separate the groan from the chirp and allow only her chipper-ness to fill my ears. For some reason I’m not always able to perform this delicate surgery.

I can’t see her. She’s in the shadows of the dark hallway. In my mind’s eye she’s peeking around the door jamb. Nevertheless I strain my eyes in a futile attempt to get a glimpse of her body. I know she’s nude. I also know from experience that unless she steps into the glow of the computer screen she might as well be a ghost. Sometimes I won’t even know she’s gone until I hear the hinges squeak on the bedroom door.

I respond: “Hellooh”, the “o” rises long enough to say “welcome” but not so long as to be artificial. She knows that morning is my quiet time. My time to pray. To think. To study. To surf the ‘net.

"Whatcha dooin'?" A semi-singsong tone matches my rising “oh”.
"I'm just looking at some spanking blogs". I’m open. Honest. Revealing. Intentionally searching.

Sometimes she’ll relocate to the sofa in the den. It happens seldom enough to be called a rare occurrence. This is one of those rare occurrences. She wanders in out of the darkness. I try to catch as much of her body as I can in the weak computer light. My eyes are her escort until she slips in under the comforter. Perhaps the idea of spanking has drawn her in. Maybe all is not lost after Sunday night’s fiasco. She settles in on the sofa. The very same sofa that is the scene of most of our few spanking sessions. Most always over the knee.

I continue to surf in silence turning every now and then to glance at Sug’Anne. She could fall asleep in an instant. But she’s still awake. Looking at me.

"Anything good?" She says, eyes searching mine. Wide.

“I haven’t settled on anything yet. Just bouncing around right now”. I turn back to the screen. I am immediately taken in by an article. I read silently. To myself.

An involuntary, “Hmm” squeaks out.
“What?” she asks. ”Something interesting? Read to me.”

And I read to her. For 20 minutes this article and that one too. Especially the ones I’ve submitted comments to. She offers a thought here and there. We’re sharing, communicating on this spanking thing. I crown our time by reading my own most recent posts.

“You write beautifully", she says.
“Yeah thanks. Now you know what it’s like to be in my mind”, I snicker.
“I like your mind.” She whispers wistfully.

Hm. All is not lost.