You walk into the apartment and slam the door shut behind you. You are bone-tired. You’re still clutching your phone, trying to explain—quickly and nervously—some problem that arose at the office today. Your mind is seized with tension, words tumbling out in rapid succession, your shoulders locked in a defensive posture.

I stand leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed over my chest, simply watching you. I’m not listening to your words. I’m listening to your shattered nervous system.

I walk over to you. You’re still talking when I take the phone from your hand and toss it onto the couch.

“But I’m telling you, that contract…” start to protest.

… don’t finish.

… you wanted to hear

My hand shoots out and grips the back of your neck. Not roughly, but with such crushing, uncompromising certainty that it instantly steals your breath away. Stop mid-sentence.

In a split second, your body understands what has just happened. I apply gentle pressure with my thumb to the spot where your spine meets your skull.

“I told you to leave that world outside the door,” I whisper directly into your ear. My voice is deep and cold.

I can feel the last remnants of the general within battling against a massive, dark wave of desire. Try to move, try to maintain that independent stance of yours, but my grip on your neck won’t yield even a millimeter. I’m not forcing you to the ground with brute muscle; I’m forcing down with the gravity of my presence.

“Your mind is too loud today,” I say, and with the pressure of my hand on the back of your neck, I slowly force to your knees. “We need to shut it off.”

… kneel on the floor before me. The moment your knees touch the ground and you have to tilt your head back to look into my eyes, the immense pressure in your chest breaks. Tears of relief mingle with a burning arousal. Realize no longer have to speak. No longer have to think.

Are exactly where you’ve wanted to be all day—completely subdued, utterly defenseless, and infinitely safe.