BELLAMY
“How wasyour first day as a paid artist?” Winter asks excitedly as we sit down at a table at the restaurant. “Tell me everything!”
I can’t help but grin at her squeal, but I can also tell there’s something different about her. Her scent is different, and when I felt her orgasm while I was working, I had to concentrate on not coming in my pants.
The sensation was so strong, you’d have thought she was in the room. I never know how our bond is going to behave when we aren’t together. Often, it’s shared emotions and pain.
Knowing she’ll tell me at some point, I tell her about my day.
“I chose a concept for a job today, and now I’m bringing it to life,” I explain. “The person commissioning wants a certain style, and it’s one I’m not completely proficient in. At first, I wanted to go with the easy option, but Mr. Duvall told me to take the chance. The school has reminders for taking breaks, which helped me from completely hyper fixating.”
“So no dizziness,” she says worriedly.
“Is that why you were dizzy painting the mural in your nest?” Abbott asks.
“It is,” I admit. “I pushed too hard, and working on a ladder isn’t the most comfortable. The mural just needs a little more before it’s done.”
“It’s really pretty,” Winter praises me. “It feels like it’s ours.”
“As it should,” Cassidy says. “If you need help, please ask. Abbott is great at putting things together, and Shi is who you go to for cool, techy shit. Ansel will move furniture around until it’s how you want it.”
“God, will he,” Abbott snorts. “Every so often, Cassidy gets a bee in her bonnet to rearrange rooms.”
“Shh. It’s not that bad. Usually, it’s because I know the house cleaner needs to clean under the furniture, I just won’t tell them that,” she says, clearly enjoying the havoc she orchestrates on the house.
See, I love this. It’s family, connection, and shared love. I’m beginning to enjoy the chaotic energy in the house finally. It means that when the chaos is coming from Winter or I, we merely fit in.
We’re not a burden or making too much noise, something Matilda used to complain about often. May she rot in hell.
“What’s your work space look like?” Winter asks curiously.
I describe the school, how the space is set up, and then tell her about my studio. Some people would say it’s small, but I happen to like how cozy it feels. I can see everything inside it, and there’s no room for anyone to hide inside it.
“What did you do today?” I ask, smirking as she blushes.
“I got a job, had an orgasm in the dressing room of said new employment and a bond bite, and then decided to try out for a play,” she says, making me spit out my water after having taken a sip.
“You’re a terrible influence, Cass,” Abbott groans, cleaning his face with a wince. Oh, I didn’t mention my water spewed all over him?
Can the floor just swallow me whole, please?
“I’m so sorry,” I groan, red faced.
“This isn’t your fault,” he chuckles.
“See? The sandwich method works every time,” Cassidy giggles. “Are you okay there, Abbott?”
“Yes. I’d much rather have cock in my mouth than spit, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers,” Abbott says.
“I…what?”
I think I’m having an aneurysm.
“Don’t be dramatic,” Winter says with a wink.
“You’re the one with the exciting day,” I tease her. “I knew about the orgasm, I almost came in my pants while painting. I felt something else, but I was overwhelmed by trying not to embarrass myself."
“Maybe you should bring extra clothes from now on,” Abbott says, his face turning red as he tries not to give into a laugh.
