Clothes Maketh The Man — Part 39.

Over the next few days I waited in anticipation of a call from Devina. It seemed as though she had forgotten me and while I went through the motions of work my every spare moment was consumed with thoughts of her and how I might turn this relationship from its current course.

Perhaps she’d respond if I asked her to join me for a romantic evening and dinner. Most people enjoy that, however depraved their version of their sex life might be. And after all, Devina couldn’t be all bad. Maybe it wasn’t her fault she had taken this dark path and drawn me so helplessly down it. Perhaps deep inside her there was some good, a warm and loving person hidden away just waiting to be drawn out.

I can remember sitting one evening staring out across the lights of the city, my phone nearby as I hoped she’d call, while I wore a fluffy pink teddy and some slippers. I sipped the mint tea and clutched my arms about myself thinking of her strong arms around me. Yes, that was the real Devina. Of course, there was that other form of herself which she probably just put on for show, and I supposed if I had to indulge that then I could forgive her that. After all, as surprising as it so often was, I at some level had enjoyed some of those depraved activities she’d put me through. Maybe that was, after all, just a small part of her. Perhaps if I could accept that I could teach her to move…