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Pain Tank
Willow
Since Luca sneaks offto his holiday like a thief in the night, I have no choice but to assume it’s because he’s too embarrassed to admit he needs a break from me. I don’t blame him—I’m a lot to handle, and Luca’s a delicate flower compared to me.
I only find out he’s gone the morning after he leaves when one of his cleaners walks into his bedroom and seems surprised to find someone sleeping in his bed. I’m slumped onto my stomach, fully star-fishing, taking advantage of the space. It’s this cleaner who stiffly informs me they didn’t expect to find me here and that Mr Fletcher-Lowe left for Switzerland with orders to keep the house impeccable in his absence.
Wow, I find myself thinking. Give a guy a slap and a boner and he goes running from the country. It’s a good thing Luca’s notmy real boyfriend, or else he might have hurt my feelings a bit. Luckily, my feelings aren’t hurt, and actually, it’ll be fun to play pretend in his big fancy house and have some time to myself.
I won’t miss him, I’m certain of it, but he could have at least said goodbye. Rolling over with a grunt, I grab my phone from under the pillow to text Luca. He’s rather boldly saved himself in my contacts asMaster Fletcher-Lowe, so before I text him, I make sure to change his contact name toBroken Dick Psycho.
Willow: Did I get a little rough with you, baby Luca? Didn’t mean to make you run away like that.
He responds exactly as I expect him to—with frosty denial.
Broken Dick Psycho: Who is this?
I know for a fact he has my number since I saw it when I went through his phone. I bet he still has my face as his wallpaper. Nevertheless, I take a selfie of myself in his bed, winking at the camera.
Willow: It’s me, the woman you’re pathetically in love with.
Broken Dick Psycho:You’re the monster crouching on my chest when I can’t wake up from a nightmare.
And, before I can even reply:
Broken Dick Psycho: Stop sleeping in my bed, or I’ll have to have it replaced like the sofa.
Willow: Better replace your pillows, too. I might’ve gotten them a bit wet by accident.
Broken Dick Psycho: Are you masturbating with my pillows because you can’t come without thinking about me?
Willow: I was actually thinking about Colin.
He doesn’t reply.
But when I get back from work later that day, all the bedding and pillows in his room have been replaced. There’s a box waiting in the middle of the bed, and inside it, a smooth black glass dildo and a card which reads:
Go fuck yourself.
LFL
With Luca gone, Iassume the role of queen of the castle in his absence. I pawn a couple of his most expensive watches and redistribute the wealth by adding some much-needed personal touches to the house. Some fluffy cushions for the boring black couches, chequered rugs, fairy lights, plants. The cleaners put up some resistance because I keep coming home to find my new things tucked out of sight.
So I begin waging war against the cleaners. Making a mess in the kitchen when I cook, leaving the windows open while it’s raining, buying increasingly outrageous decorations, such as a rug shaped like a joint or a collection of frog ornaments I move in rotation around the house.
By the end of the second week, the war escalates to the cleaners throwing away my things and me leaving notes threatening them with legal action and personal violence, and Nadine, a distant supervisory figure in Luca’s absence, is forced to personally interfere.
First, she speaks to the cleaners and asks them to clean without moving anything “decorative”. Next, she turns up at Luca’s house one evening wearing a black workout ensemble that makes her look like a sexy secret agent. Her hair is in impeccable boxer braids, and she’s got a training bag slung over one shoulder.
She walks into the dining room and looks me up and down. I’m still in my work clothes—black ripped jeans and a long-sleeved band T-shirt cut roughly around the middle. My face and hair are a greasy mess, and I’m eating out of a bowl of cold left-over noodles, Luca’s copy ofThe Divine Comedypropped on the table next to a beer.
Nadine’s gorgeous eyes are narrowed with disapproval, so I open our conversation with a cautious, “I didn’t do anything.”
“You need to stop antagonising the staff,” Nadine says, stomping over to me. She plucks away my beer and noodles and takes them into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Go change into something comfortable and meet me in the gym.”
Working out is the last thing I want to do after an eight-hour shift on my feet, but I bet Nadine could teach me a thing or two. If nothing else, she might pin me down between her thighs and relieve some of that sexual frustration Luca’s black glass dildo has done very little to curb.
So I change into black sweats (since I don’t own any, I just borrow one of Luca’s luxury sets he wears when walking the dogs) and tie my hair in a ponytail before meeting Nadine in Luca’s gym, which sits right next to his obnoxious fencing room. Nadine’s waiting on the padded section, white boxing wraps around her hands.
