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Dare put The Hobbit on. It was a switch to watch something that wasn’t porn. I almost giggled at one point because I started imagining the hobbits doing it. I got my mind off that by glancing in his direction and seeing him flex his biceps to put his hands behind his head, which got me thinking about him having sex. Dang. I started to get hot under the collar.
A little while in I heard a buzzer and he paused the movie and then went to the wall near the door where there was an intercom. A few minutes later he answered a knock on the door and a teenaged boy stepped in, gave me a wave, and put a big pizza box and a large paper bag with twine handles on the island. He and Dare spoke in what must’ve been Italian for a minute and then Dare reached into his pocket to fetch out some cash and put it in the kid’s hand and then ruffled his hair and then the boy was on his way, waving at me on his way out. Dare brought the food to the table, then brought over a bottle of wine and two glasses, and then he flicked the movie back on while he started putting food out.
I ate while watching the movie, for the first time in almost two years not overly conscious of what I was eating and really enjoying the food. I don’t think it was just because it’d been two years since I’d had pizza that this was the best pizza I’d had in my life, hands down.
He paused the film after the meal to step out to the balcony to smoke a cigarette, which was nice since it was his apartment. I didn’t know if he did it for my benefit or because he preferred smoking outdoors, but when he came back in he cleared the leftovers away and put them in the fridge. I felt lazy. And full. I felt like I should be doing something. But it all felt so weird. He stretched out on the one couch so I followed suit and laid down on the one I was on.
** ** **
I woke up when the credits were rolling. I was asleep on the one sofa and he was asleep on the other. But there was a soft gray blanket over me so he must’ve put it on me while I was asleep and the idea of that gave me a twinge in my chest.
He was so handsome. And asleep he didn’t look at all pissed off like he usually did. Then again, he was probably pissed off because he had to deal with me. I was a complication in his life.
He was asleep on his back, his t-shirt riding up, his hand flat on his bare chiseled belly. God, he had sexy hands.
I could see his blond happy trail and his jeans were low, showing the start of the V heading down to his groin. His feet were now bare, his socks laying across the arm of the sofa by his feet. My eyes lazily took him in from toe to head and then back down to the happy trail. My mouth started to water and I squirmed. When I’d taken him in my mouth the other morning it was awesome. He was well-endowed. He was well-groomed down there. And the feel of his strong sexy hands in my hair while his cock was in my mouth? It had me wet and ready. More than ready.
But he’d been asleep and my doing that pretty much amounted to sexual assault. It’d been wrong. But I’d woken up to him looking beautiful and sleeping again with me cradled against him and so I wanted to wake him up in a way that showed my appreciation as well as ensured he’d want me. But he’d been angry. And now I knew why. He wasn’t there to collect his slave; he was there to deal with a mess put on his shoulders by his deceased father. He gets saddled with me, a dirty and broken human being, and I’m all stammering, begging for sex, and being a pain in his butt.
But sex was all I knew anymore. I knew almost nothing anymore of who I was before Thailand. I only knew A to B. Screw them good and make them happy. Screwing them good generally did make them happy. It meant I didn’t get punished, and it helped me get and then stay on course, a course of staying on the short list and not being subjected to corrections or retraining for non-compliance, and because of that, maybe that’s why I got off on it. It was who I had to be and every small A to B victory meant success so I got off on it in some dysfunctional twisted way. I’d always been sexual. Always. Even as a small girl. And the Kruna scouts knew how to spot it and their trainers sure knew how to exploit it. And somehow I used it. I used my sexuality to get myself out of there.
I looked back up from his happy trail to his face and he was now awake and watching me. He was watching me ogle him. Our eyes locked. I moistened my lips and tried to settle myself down. I was probably flushed. I was so aroused right now. I wanted him, wanted him bad.
“Jetlag,” he mumbled.
“Yeah,” I rasped.
He stretched, “Wanna crash?”
I think I nodded.
He got up, “You take my bed.” He stretched again as he walked to his alarm panel by the door and hit some buttons that beeped and the sight of his muscled arms and back as he stretched revved me up even further.
“But the futon sucks,” I answered softly.
“Yeah, the futon sucks.”
“I can sleep on the futon,” I said but was hoping he wouldn’t make me sleep alone in there.
“Naw, I’ll be fine.” He massaged the back of his neck with a wince and I knew he was thinking about how uncomfortable of a sleep that futon would be, “Maybe the couch is better,” he said.
“It’s pretty comfy. I can just sleep here. You take your bed.”
“Naw, you take the bed.” He was staring at me.
“We could both sleep in your bed again,” I offered.
His eyes lit with something and he sneered. He looked severely pissed off.
“I’m sorry. I---”
“You take my bed. I’ll sleep out here. I’ll order a bed tomorrow for the den, move my desk out here, you can have that room.” I wasn’t about to argue with that hard expression and those angry eyes. I don’t think anyone would.
“Thank you for dinner and the movie. And, um, everything. You’ve been very kind. Kinder than you should have to be. Thank you.”
He gave me a little smile but it had pity written all over it.
“Goodnight,” I said.
