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Their Language

Finally the day was over, he thought as they were getting ready for bed.   Work had been overwhelming his wife the past few weeks; he could see the exhaustion not only in her face but in her movements.

As he undressed, he pulled the belt from his pants.  The feel of the buckle so cold and hard was in sharp contrast to the leather.   His stomach tightened.  It was late, but he wanted to play.   She was tired, but lately she seemed almost too tired to sleep.

He wondered.  Should he?  The only way to find out was to ask; ask in their own language.

"Did you just drop your camisole on the floor, wench?"

At the word "wench", their signal for play, he saw a small tremor go through her body.  Oh, he was so glad they spoke the same language.

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