AllFreeNovel
Share Us
SIX
The wolf heaveda sigh but then moved toward the door. His eyes swept the room as he went; he was looking for an escape route just to make sure I couldn’t leave, probably.
I'd already looked though, and there wasn't one.
Satisfied that I was good and trapped, he stepped into the hallway and plopped down on his belly right in front of the door.
With the comfort of the door separating us, I took my time in the bathtub. Mostly because I wanted some distance from the wolf.
Er, Jesse.
He'd started to seem too human when he was giving me directions via our little game of Charades. And I didn't want to humanize him. He and his friends had abducted me, and they were trapping me in the townhouse.
I was not going to fall victim to Stockholm Syndrome. And sure, I was a long way from that, but the first step to falling for your kidnapper was seeing them as a person with hopes and dreams and feelings and shit.
At least, I assumed that was the first step. Taking Psych 101 during my spring semester had led to me feeling like I understood people better than I really did though.
Anyway, bathing in his bathtub was weird. Washing with Jesse's shower gel was weirder. Shaving my armpits and legs with the man's face-razor seemed like a sin, so I left them hairy.
I did wonder why he needed a razor in the shower when the electric one was sitting on the counter, but since he wasn't available for asking, I let it go.
As I rinsed shampoo from my hair, I tried to think back to the night before. None of the men had really stood out to me then, since I was so focused on trying to get out of the sandwich shop without catching the attention of one of the beefy guys. I couldn't even recall what Jesse looked like.
But he had conditioner sitting next to his shampoo, so I knew he wasn't bald.
I sniffed the conditioner. It matched the generic bottle of shampoo I'd used. I liked the scent but couldn't put my finger on what it actually smelled like. The name was River Rocks, and I didn't know what a river rock smelled like, but I was 99% sure it wasn't the same as the smell of the product in that bottle.
Why did men's shower products never smell like real things the way women's smelled like fruit and flowers?
My favorite scent was Sparkling Champagne. Though I'd never actually tasted champagne, every time I smelled the shower gel, lotion, and perfume, I about died and went to heaven. There was something so satisfying about using shower products that smelled amazing.
After I got out and dried off, I got dressed. And as weird as I felt washing in Jesse's tub, using all of his soaps and things, I felt so much weirder putting his pants on. My bra and underwear were absolutely disgusting, so I couldn't put even those back on without a good, heavy wash.
So, I was free-boobing and free-buffing. None of my parts were loving the extra airflow as I shuffled out of the bathroom with an arm around my chest, my clothes bundled in my other arm. My lack of exercise had made me soft in the chest, thighs, butt, and arms, and my curves did not know how to feel about their sudden freedom.
Jesse trotted beside me as I gingerly made my way back downstairs, heading to the clothing washer and dryer I'd seen tucked in a corner near the garage door. My feet were hurting something fierce. Painkillers were going to be my next focus after I got my underwear going in the wash.
When the machine was spinning, I looked at Jesse. The wolf peered back, his tail wagging once again.
"Where do you keep your painkillers?" I asked him.
He led me into the kitchen, and went up on his hind legs to point straight up at the cabinet beside the fridge. I opened it and breathed a sigh of relief when I found Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and Excedrin too. Oddly enough, every one of the bottles was still sealed shut, like they'd only recently been purchased.
After I thanked the wolf, I opened cupboards until I found a glass for water, then filled it up in the sink before swallowing the proper dose of both Ibuprofen and Tylenol.
I set the cup down beside the sink and headed for the fridge. Pulling it open, my eyebrows lifted at the assload of food in front of me.
At least two dozen containers of yogurt were stacked along the side of the top shelf, five packages of bagels cuddled up against them. Four 18-egg cartons rested against the bagels, maxing out the shelf's space. The shelf below it was similarly packed in with lunch foods instead of breakfast, and the one below that looked like dinner leftovers and ingredients.
Even the door was loaded with a gallon of milk, a gallon of chocolate milk, a bunch of premade smoothies, and every condiment in existence.
"How many people live here?" I looked at the wolf.
He tilted his head, confused again.
I gestured to the fully-packed fridge. "There's enough food here to feed five or six people for a week."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. He lifted a paw and circled it around, then gestured back to his chest.
