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With Xenia on my mind, I wonder about a place of my own. Could I make a house that wouldn’t act as a prison? I haven’t a clue where to start with design ideas.
Xenia doesn’t know what she wants. I don’t think I do, either, anymore.
No, that’s not right. I’m still me. I’ve been this person for forty-three years. I won’t forget how I roll just because of a crush. I can control myself enough to enjoy what Xenia offers before she disappears into a world I don’t want to know.
Sleeping in the guest room, I’m certain I can juggle my freedom with this new obsession. I’ll just feed my interest in Xenia. Give my obsession whatever it needs while I can. When she leaves, I’ll adjust to her being gone. I’ve suffered through worse.
So how come I don’t have the balls to see her?Fucking about all morning and afternoon, I only show up at her shop after she’s gone. Next, I hit up the tiny house and hunker down in the meadow, waiting for Xenia to appear. All while holding these damn roses like a regular schnook.
The chick at the flower shop nearly ruined my big plan. When I asked what kind of flowers ladies liked, she talked so much that I felt trapped back in school. I even started daydreaming while she vomited her word salad on me.
By the time she shut up, I was in the same position as when I asked. That’s why I picked red roses since they seemed like a safe choice.
From the meadow, I see when Xenia returns home. The sun lingers at the horizon, giving a dull yellow sheen to everything. The lowering sun’s glare keeps Xenia from noticing me. Or maybe she just isn’t perceptive.
Francis doesn’t notice me, either. I feel like a ghost at times, completely invisible to people. When I was a kid, no one wanted to see me. If they didn’t hide their eyes, they might feel the need to do something to help.
As a man, I ought to draw more attention. I’m a large son of a bitch swallowing up most rooms, yet people often just refuse to see me.
Most days, I’m glad no one notices. Tonight, it comes in handy when I creep closer to Xenia and Francis and their dating dance.
They make an attractive couple. I bet they’d look real fine on those Christmas cards Xenia wants to send out to prove she’s just as good as her brother and sister.
I ought to back off and let them do what’d make more sense. Except Xenia wants me. That’s why she dodges Francis’s touch. If she hadn’t made her feelings known, I might have needed to cut off the man’s fingers. Just imagining him enjoying her soft skin nearly turns me feral.
Finally, Francis backs off. As he walks away, I catch him glancing over his shoulder, more than once, still plotting how to win the beautiful woman within reach.
After he leaves, Xenia keeps checking on the main house. Is she considering whether to give in to his charms? I walk toward her, angry over how Francis might have a chance. I arrive behind Xenia while she’s peeking around the small house at where Francis went. I know she’ll be startled. I see the fear in her eyes even before I speak.
After Xenia turns around in terror, her gray eyes quickly transform from startled to pleased. I think of how Francis nearly touched her face. She ducked away from his affection yet leans into mine.
I can’t deny the pride I feel over how this woman chose me. That emotion’s quickly followed by a possessive need to keep her.
All of which is zapped away when Xenia asks me to enter her tiny house. I imagine a future where she chips away at my freedom until I’m trapped in a cage. My head’s back to feeling like a kid in a class, where I couldn’t focus because I was in pain or hungry. For my entire life, I’ve ping-ponged between wanting to be normal versus uncaged.
To my surprise, Xenia rests her sweet ass on the grass and dares me to walk away. I shouldn’t be tempted by a woman who clearly would prefer to sit inside her itty-fucking-bitty house with its air-conditioning and comfy furniture.
I think I’d rather she be inside, too. Xenia looks flushed despite the peak of the day’s heat being over. The woman deserves to be pampered after spending her life working nonstop to please those who didn’t care.
No matter what would be best, I refuse to leave Xenia. She’s all I’ve thought about for weeks. Right now, she looks so damn tempting as she stretches out her lean legs and waits for me to decide.
I plop down, sitting hip to hip, facing her. Xenia’s smile widens. She’s won her prize for now. I think I smile, too. Never before have I been considered someone’s prize.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” she asks.
“No.”
“I did. Do you want me to get you something to eat?”
“No.”
Xenia lowers her gaze. I nearly think she’s giving my cock a look. When her hand reaches out, it lands north of my crotch. She feels my stomach, checking for hunger.
“Where did you eat?”
“How do you know I didn’t eat at home?” she asks and glances toward the meadow. “Were you watching me?”
“I saw you still had your purse, so I figured you just got home.”
