Page 23 of Following His Commands

Shit, why didn’t I think of that?

“You really shouldn’t take one so soon. It could impact your menstrual cycle, make you irregular for a while.”

“But nothing like super drastic?” she asks.

“Maybe we should reconsider this, Dani. You don’t have to take it,” I tell her. I don’t want her putting her body in any harm. I’m very fond of that body.

“No, nothing drastic. Just fill out your details on here and I’ll get it ready for you.” The pharmacist hands her a slip of paper.

“Thank you,” she says, picking up the pen.

“Are you sure? I mean it. We don’t need to risk anything happening to you,” I tell her.

“It’ll be fine,” Dani insists.

Why do I feel like that’s what everyone says right before everything’s not fine?

ELEVEN

Have I ever been more worn out physically and mentally?

No. Never.

A weekend spent with Alistair Warner is not for the faint of heart. I’m not sure there is a surface left in his apartment that we haven’t christened. Multiple times.

I turn my head to look over at him. He’s asleep. Finally. I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours for him to fall asleep. I need to go home, and whenever I’ve broached the subject over the past two days, he’s distracted me with more orgasms.

It hasn’t just been sex either. We’ve talked. A lot. We even played card games, which turned into us betting sexual favours to make things more interesting. Ever played Go Fish where the prize for winning is twenty minutes of Alistair Warner going downtown?

I have. And let me tell you, I was not going to lose that game. Although, I do wonder if he let me win. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy going down on me.

One of us has to break this bubble that we’ve created. It’s Sunday afternoon and I really do need to go home, do laundry, prepare for the upcoming work week. All of the above.

I slide out from underneath his arm. Every time I have to sneak out on him, my heart pounds like he’s going to wake up and catch me. I’m not sure what he’ll do, but I do know he hates it. I just need to get home. It’s either that or end up having to go to work tomorrow wearing his clothes. Which will only happen when hell freezes over.

Tiptoeing out of the bedroom, I find my clutch on the entrance table and stab at the elevator button, cringing when the doors ping open, the noise echoing through the silent apartment. The ride down is eerily quiet, but as soon as I hit the street outside of his building, the sounds of the city on a Sunday afternoon surround me. People walking dogs, joggers, mums pushing strollers. I call for an Uber on my phone and wait all of two minutes for the driver to pull up in front of me.

“Hi, thank you,” I say, climbing into the back seat.

“Hey, how’s your day been?” the driver asks.

“Good,” I answer, then pull up the group message on my phone with my friends.

Me:

Pizza, wine. Now!

Their responses flow in immediately, and I can’t help but wonder if there ever is a time when their phones aren’t in their hands.

Daisy:

I got the wine.

Eloise:

I’ll get the pizza.

Claire:

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