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ChapterTwenty-Two
“We will never speak of that,”I say when Art stops the video. “Deal?”
He nods. “Should I delete it?”
I’m about to say “hells yeah,” but then I hesitate. “I’d keep it until you have the green card. If some government agent doesn’t believe what we have is real, we’ll show them that.”
He laughs. “I can’t even imagine the look on that hypothetical agent’s face.”
I laugh too, but then I make my face serious. “It probably goes without saying, but I want to spell it out: don’t watch that again, or show it to anyone.”
Nor will I watch it again because staying platonic with him is already as hard as Mr. Big was in the video.
“Goes without saying.”
The door rings. He stands up to answer.
Is it my video-stimulated imagination, or did he just readjust something big in the Mr. Big region? Damn it, now that I’ve seen it, is his cock all I’m going to be thinking about?
When Art comes back, he’s already dressed, and he hands me my dress from last night, now clean.
“I’m going to find Fluffer.” He walks out of the room.
I snicker as I get dressed. Speaking of fluffers, he didn’t require any for our little porno.
“Lemon, come take a look at this,” Art yells from the bedroom.
I join him—and when I enter the room, I blush. Now that I’ve seen what transpired here, the desserts take on a new meaning.
Also, I swear I smell sex in the air, and it makes me horny. Or hornier.
Art is kneeling by the bed, looking under it, so I join him.
As soon as I see what he’s found, I begin to laugh.
It seems we’ve located both Fluffer and the missing flogger. One is eating the other—and obviously, I mean Fluffer is eating the flogger, not the other way around.
I stop laughing. “Is that safe for his health?”
“I think so,” Art says. “That handle is made out of wood, and the guy at the store said chinchillas will gnaw on random things regularly, to dull down their always-growing teeth.”
Huh. Art was clearly paying closer attention to that spiel than I was.
“Come here, little Fluffer,” I coo. “We’re your mommy and daddy.”
The chinchilla gives me a look that seems to say:
Mommy? Human, please. I witnessed your insatiable appetite all over this room—in both senses of the word. If I come out, you’ll swallow me whole in one gulp, like a small ball of cotton candy. No, thanks.
He resumes gnawing on the flogger.
“How do we get him out of there?” I whisper to Art.
Theoretically, my arm is slim enough to fit under the bed, but no, thanks. I’m not sure this chinchilla has been vaccinated for rabies.
Art gets to his feet and leaves the room. When he returns, he’s holding a large bowl with—oddly—dust in it.
“The guy at the store said they love baths,” Art says. “Maybe this will get him out?”
