Rules

With the kids in bed, I poured a bourbon and settled in for a date with my online girlfriend, Madeline.

Marcus would be arriving at her place the following night for a long weekend with her.

Jefferson: Are you prepared for the arrival of your guest?

Madeline: Mostly. Still a lot of running around to do tomorrow. I have a list of things to do.

Jefferson: Your list is about to get longer. I have prepared a set of rules that you must follow this weekend.

Madeline: Oh good!

My best friend was going to spend the weekend with my online girlfriend—surely you didn’t think I was going to let that alone?

I imposed my regulations after great care and deliberation. Madeline was duty bound to adhere to them.

In deciding what these rules would be, I immediately dismissed any regulation of their sexual activities.

I might have insisted that they curtail kissing, for example, or anal sex, or what have you, reserving certain acts for times when I was present. But imposing such a limitation would lack imagination, and seem designed primarily to annoy.

I did not want to limit what they could do. I just wanted to be sure my presence was felt throughout the weekend. Madeline’s obedience would ensure that—if I could formulate the correct rules.

Ultimately, my regulations would be divided into three categories.

First, her body would be marked according to my direction. This would cause her to think of me when she saw that mark.

This would be her way of saying, “I’m thinking of you.”

Second, the two of them would be denied a convenience. This would underscore a sense that something is missing.

This would be her way of saying, “I miss you.”

Third, she must regularly articulate that she regrets my absence.

This would her way of saying, “Wish you were here.”

For the first rule—wearing my mark—I wanted something subtle, something Marcus might not even notice. It would be too crude and amateurish to have her write “Property of Jefferson” on her ass.

Jefferson: You need to paint your fingernails and toenails for me.

Madeline: Of course. What color?

I held a glass of bourbon to the web cam.

Jefferson: This color.

Madeline: Yes.

The next day, as she ran her final errands, she picked up a copper nail polish, the closest she could find. That evening, as she awaited Marcus’s arrival, she held her fingers in front of her web cam.

Madeline: Does this satisfy?

Jefferson: Very much. Thank you.

She also volunteered to move her wristwatch from her left arm to her right. That way, when she instinctively looked to her left wrist to see the time, she would find her watch missing and remember me.

Good: she understood the spirit of my edicts.

For the second rule—the denial of a convenience—I had a few suggestions.

Jefferson: What we want is something that isn’t essential , but makes life easier. Like, a toaster or a microwave that doesn’t work, or an icemaker that is out of commission.

Madeline: I have a toaster. Can we pick that?

Jefferson: Perfect! Your toaster is now broken. And so you must buy bread and crave toast.

Madeline: I love toast.

The next evening, I inquired about the toaster.

She had taken it to her parking lot that afternoon and smashed it to bits.

Madeline: I fucking hated that toaster.

Jefferson: And you are stocked for bread?

Madeline: Beautiful bread for toasting.

Jefferson: Good. No easy toast for you.

For my final rule—the noting of my absence—she had a simple requirement. At least four times a day, she must say of some activity, “You know, this would be so much more fun if Jefferson were with us.”

She was to document those moments and send me the record.

I also insisted that she withhold two things from Marcus on this first visit. She was not to take him to the river, where she sometimes sits when she calls me. And he was not to meet her children.

She agreed.

With that, I was content. I could wish her an enjoyable weekend with Marcus.

I mean, it wasn’t as if I lacked for weekend plans of my own.

As fate would have it, she would break one of her promises.

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