There’s a drip. Slightly more than a drop. It is so cold as it trickles along. Although drawn by gravity, it seems to have a mind of its own. Following the soft smooth contour of your body. Seeking out the most sensitive spots. If you could see it through the blindfold you could watch it glide through the goosebumps on your skin. It’s moving agonizingly slowly. Tickling and tormenting along. Eventually, after what seems like hours, it drops off the curve of your side onto the bed.
And then the anticipation starts again.
Where will the next drip land? Will it be ice water again? Or possibly the stinging splash of hot wax…
It’s going to be a long night.
