Even though I’ve made the right choice about letting him go, it’s still uncomfortable.
Olsen makes me a calming playlist to listen to as I work.
“Pretend I'm washing dishes with you,” he offers breathlessly as we recover from our sunrise fuck. “I'll be waiting at the door to walk you home.”
“I don't finish until one in the morning,” I laugh.
“I'd walk you home at any hour of the night,” he vows.
And I can’t deny that it feels good when he kisses me hello in front of Porter.
We’re not doing it to be shallow, not really.
But it’s almost like Olsen is saying:
Pay attention.Thisis how you treat a man like Mark.
???
We’ve been living together temporarily until I can find a place of my own.
And yet, after a month of browsing online ads there doesn’t seem to be much point.
“I love waking up in your arms,” I simper.
“Then stay here with me,” Olsen suggests.
“Yeah?”
“It's not like we just met, we've known each other for a while. And…”
“And?”
“And I already checked with the landlord. My lease can be adjusted. So… say yes?”
“Wish granted,” I smile. “Look, my clothes are already in your closet.”
“Ourcloset,” he replies, kissing below my belly button.
And it really is our closet, in more ways than one.
Olsen has excellent taste.
He teaches me all there is to know about style, about hair and accessorising.
He introduces me to one of the best barbers this side of the river.
“Which do you find more arousing?” I muse. “Dressing me or undressing me?”
He considers neck and shoulder kisses an essential part of getting ready.
Occasionally a nipple lick, too.
“One guess,” he replies. “I can't behave myself around you either way.”
I give a bum wiggle as I turn in front of the mirror.
“I know exactly why you loaned me these pants, Ol.”
