Oran shakes his head with a smirk. He’s used to me so next to nothing amazes him. My phone vibrates and grabs my attention.
Dat Azz: She’s eating Oreos.
Me: Ok
“I see you’ve been stressing and taking Ainslee with you,” I tease him, showing him the screen.
Oran shrugs but I can see the concern on his face. “She scared the shit out of us by not taking her meds or letting anyone know her chest was hurting. It could have ended horribly. The way I see it, she’s stressing herself out. I simply make sure she takes her meds, follows the rules, and checks her heart rate.”
“How’s everything else?”
I slightly change the subject since I know that’s not something he’s budging on because of his mom. Oran needs to see for himself that Ainslee will be okay and he’s not going to relax until he’s ready.
“She’s mad that I’m refusing sex.” He smirks like an asshole.
“Ah. So they’re in the same boat. In sync without trying.”
We chuckle about our wives frustrations but a notification catches my attention. It’s a response to my latest post. Another thirst comment I laugh at but ignore it.
“Changed your mind about having a social media account yet?” I ask Oran.
“Fuck them. The world doesn’t need to know my life.”
Nodding, I pull up Ainslee’s account. “Not even to see what your wife is doing?” I show him one of the racier pictures she’s posted since they’ve been married. “I liked it because she does look hot as hell.”
Oran looks like he wants to Hulk smash and I snicker internally. I don’t care about pictures. Karessa can post almost anything she wants. I need her to act right in my presence. I’m her man and no one else. Once we navigate that, we’ll get along swimmingly.
“How do you set up that bullshit?”
“Now, we’re talking.”
Walking him through the process, I download the app and set up his profile. I take a selfie with him and tag his new account to send followers his way. As expected, his follows start shooting up.
“Okay, now you need to post a thirst trap.”
Oran’s gray eyes study me like I’ve lost my command of the English language. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Damn, dude. Don’t act so damn old. It’s a picture that gives the women lady boners. They’ll be feening for more.”
He gives me a blank look. “And what do you suggest?”
I look around. “Well, we’re outside by the pool. The possibilities are endless. Let’s start you off slow. We need to go to the other side where my back is to the sun.” I tug at his pants a little so they’re lower on his waist then step back. “Lift your shirt and bite the hem like it’s in your way and you need both hands.” Oran rolls his eyes and does it. He still looks angry. “Look at me like I’m Ainslee butt ass naked and ready to fuck.”
I click the picture before he loses the expression. I show him the photo and he whistles, impressed.
“You spend too much fucking time on this,” he reprimands me instead.
After adding a caption and some hashtags, I tag Ainslee and post it. Oran takes his phone back and immediately starts frowning. His thumb is sliding up his screen. He’s on Ainslee’s feed again.
“She needs to delete some of this shit,” he grumbles as he scrolls.
“Comment on the ones you want her to delete,” I offer.
“Just hit that bubble looking thing?”
“Yup,” I say as I delete some pictures relating to Layla from my feed.
“There’s so fucking many.”
