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How many times had she heard the question? How many times had it been the thing that spurred her to walk away from the man who asked it of her? Ten or fifteen? Maybe even twenty? Too many times to count. Too many times to recall. Too many hopes shattered by four words.
Will you scrub floors?
What?
She was searching for a domin-ant man who had the strength to allow her to be voluntarily submis-sive to him. She wasn’t searching for a job as a maid. But like a bad penny the questions about her will-ingness to do menial housework always turned back up. Inevitably he asked about scrubbing floors. What was it about scrubbing floors that was so pivotal to these men?

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Read the rest of tBristled in Consent Magazine Issue #20 Winter 2003