I grin to myself while I grab some clothes of my own. I wish I had my phone, because I would be texting Derek all kinds of things right now. Instead, I sit down on the bed, lean back on my hands, and stare at the nipple picture on the wall.
It’s a great nipple.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask Scottie as she shifts on the bed, tugging on the blankets.
“Yes, sorry. I think… I think the pillow barricade is a little much?”
I lift up so I can look over the stack of three pillows. “Really? I thought it was fortress-like. Would take a lot for one of us to cross the moat.”
“Yes, very well built,” she says. “But it’s pulling on the blankets, and I don’t want to be cold at night.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. So do you want me to take down the pillows?”
“I think so, unless you want to keep them up.”
“I’m chill. Whatever you want.”
“I say we get rid of them.”
“Okay.” I start tearing down the wall until there is one left, a soft one that could easily be rolled over, but I keep it there so she at least feels safe. After all, she’s sharing a bed with a stranger. I can’t imagine that being comfortable for her. “That better?”
“I think so, as long as you’re comfortable.”
“I’m fine,” I say and then lift up the red envelope that was in our mailbox. “Shall we read it?”
“God, I completely forgot about that. I was so distracted by the flesh poker in the shower that I bypassed the thought of us having a task tomorrow.”
“The flesh poker?” I ask. “Is that what the youths are calling it?”
“Uh, you are the youth, so you tell me.”
“So are you,” I counter. “You’re still under thirty.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like it,” she says on a sigh. “Either way, I tried removing the flesh poker, because I couldn’t stand it being so close to me when I was showering, but all I ended up doing was sliding my hands over the shaft, and, well…I swear it got harder.”
I let out a whopper of a laugh, because I was not expecting her to say that at all.
“Stop it,” she says, poking my arm. “It’s not funny. I think it’s real.”
Tears come to my eyes as I keep laughing.
“Wilder, I’m serious.”
I wipe at my eyes and shake my head. Once my laughter is under control, I say, “It’s not real.”
“How do you know? Did you touch it?”
“I mean, I swatted at it to see what kind of material they made it from, but if it was real, it wouldn’t have enjoyed the swat. Also, it’s not coming out of a wall. It’s suction-cupped to tile. There’s a difference.”
“You say this as if you have experience.”
I roll my eyes. “If it was real, it would be coming out of a hole, and someone would be standing on the other side. There was nothing real about it.”
“It felt real, and to my dying day, I will swear that it grew in my hands.”
“How long did you hold on to it?”
“Not that long.”
