“C’mon then, chubby cheeks,” I say as I open the window to let him in. He immediately smacks my face, claws out, before purring and making biscuits on Arnie’s pillow for a snooze.
It’s early April, so it’s still a little cold out, but the smell of grass, rain, and Arnie’s flowers outside floats through the open window and permeates the room. I take a large breath in and exhale, content with my life at this moment. There had been no sign of Jed after the brick-throwing months ago. I had no idea what his motive was in finding me or why he’d gone silent after that one sighting. I’d received no more texts either, and part of me worried it was because he was plotting something bigger and was waiting me out until he could completely blindside me.
I lazily pet Johnny as he snores lightly. I think back to last week in the car with Arnie and our talk about monogamy.
My upbringing was based on so-called traditional values. Man meets woman, man marries woman, man gets kids and firstborn son is like dad. Okay, so I was making it sound more caveman, but it was basically the same!
Being into guys was fiction on TV for me. Being in a non-monogamous relationship was greedy or weird. If you stepped outside the realm of societal norms, then be it on your head, considering most people would not be supportive.
So, I plodded along in life, assuming I would be happy and content with the person of my dreams, which turned out to be Arnie. But then debauched thoughts of multiple hands, multiple cocks and extreme pleasure flooded my mind.
What was wrong with me? I couldn’t get the thought of Freddie on his hands and knees out of my dreams. His lace panties, since that’s what I imagined I would force him to wear for me, ripped open, his hole exposed as I got him ready to take me. Arnie and Simmons telling me how to dominate the brat.
I stiffen under the warm sheets, and I groan. Arnie had told me no masturbation today, and it was barely 9am, and I was suffering already.
Throwing back the covers, I put on my checked orange slippers and got a start on the day. Johnny, entirely ignoring my absence, snoring blissfully on as I leave the room.
After breakfast, a soothing warm shower, and telling Johnny that it was time to hitch a ride, I was ready for my chores for the day. I wanted to surprise Arnie with a dessert when he got home if I had time too.
With my usual timer set at the dining table, I make my way through my chores that Arnie prints and leaves out for me every morning. I’m sure some would find acts of service odd or peculiar, but it gives me meaning and joy.
It makes me feel closer to Arnie in a way that might not make sense to anyone else. He enjoys them too, and we both get off on it, so who cares?
Not that I have friends who might worry I’m being used as a sex slave or cleaner. Although put like that, I don’t mind. It makes me want Arnie to come home one day with a sexy little maid’s outfit for me.
I chuckle to myself as I polish the wooden stand by the front door. Taking extra care with every chore so that Arnie can see the effort I’ve made. To show him my love for him in this unusual way.
The timer goes off as I’m reaching for it. I smile happily, knowing that my efficiency has got better.
When lunch rolls around, I make a simple bagel with a filling that Frankie from work had suggested. BBQ jackfruit with pickles. Apparently, he’s obsessed with them, and to be fair, it was delicious. I clean up, turning off the background show I was watching, then head back to the kitchen.
Pulling butter, cream cheese, and limes from the fridge, I add them to the other ingredients that will contribute to making a key lime pie.
Before living with Arnie, I’d never had the chance to cook or bake. I spent all my time growing up dancing and eventually avoiding any room Jed might have been in.
Living on my own as a student didn’t afford me the luxury of cooked meals or money left over for baking. I only ever watched videos of recipes and added them to a folder in my phone, hoping the app still existed by the time I’d get the chance to make any of them.
Key lime pie is one of my all-time favourite desserts, and I wanted to share that with Arnie. Crossing my fingers and toes, metaphorically, I pray I don’t fuck it up. I was glad he was out ofthe house at work; I didn’t need any distractions, and Arnie was only ever a HUGE distraction when he was around.
I watch the video, listening to everything the white-haired, smiling woman is describing, and try my best to recreate her masterpiece. With a substantial amount of mess, huffing and tears almost once… okay twice, it is in the fridge to set.
Turning around, I sigh at the state of the kitchen. That was okay though, since I had some time before he was due home. As I’m turning off the video and placing my phone somewhere safe, away from the debris that lies strewn across the work surfaces, it chimes with a message.
Unknown: Thanks for the fuck ;). We should hang out sometime.
My jaw drops open. I haven’t fucked anyone. My heart hammers in my chest as I re-read the text. It must have been a wrong number. Ignoring it, I put it down again, but only a minute later it chimes once more.
Unknown: Jamie, does Arnie know you think about me naked?
Shit. It wasn’t a wrong number then. There could only be one brat in the world that would send texts like this to me.
Freddie.
Annoyed and a little flustered, I shoot back a text.
Jamie: How the hell did you get my number? Also, I didn’t fuck you. You are delusional.
Quickly adding him to my contacts, I’m worried that calling someone delusional was rude or a lot rude. But within seconds, Freddie has text back and those feelings disappear.
