I need more underwear. He takes them… in restaurants, movies, on the street. I raised my eyebrow once, in an alley near that bar we like, the one with the strong drinks and unapologetic sadsack vibe. He was confused for a second and then laughed, assured me he doesn’t wear them himself. Then he spanked me, hard, for hesitating to do as I was told. Now he fingers the edge, or strokes me when no one’s looking, and says “Off, they’re mine.” And I take them off, because they’re his, everything is his.