Chapter Twenty-Two Darius
Chapter Twenty-Two
Darius
The next week passes in a blur. I see Monika every damn day, and now that she’s gotten the all clear from Emily, every damn day I also fuck her.
She takes me on dates. Last Friday, she took me to see some horror movie that might actually be the worst film I’ve ever seen.
The only thing that made it bearable was the way Monika laughed hysterically anytime anybody died and talked through all of it.
Saturday, we realized we share a competitive streak and played a dozen board games.
I won, I punished her. She won, I punished her.
Sunday, we got breakfast and I forced her to let me join the call when she videoed her parents.
Monday, she had to work and I had to wrap up some shit.
I got the design team to make me enough clothes to last me months.
Tuesday, I convinced Monika to send me the full video of the night that I reverted.
I made my assistants hand over the log-in credentials for my social media accounts and posted the full video myself.
I then recorded a short follow-up video telling the world I was resigning as a Champion.
Not wanting to waste extra effort typing up something original, I sent Mr. Singkham the same video with the subject line: Two Seconds Notice.
Wednesday, his team tried to contact me, going so far as to come to my apartment building, but this is my apartment, not the COE’s, so I simply called the cops while I flew on outta there with Monika on my arm and took her to dinner.
Earlier today, Monika took me to her art gallery for the first time.
I was surprised. Don’t know why, since it was her idea, but Monika doesn’t seem to mind I’m no longer a Champion.
Her gallery is impressive, even if the exhibit isn’t her artwork.
Her confidence gives me confidence. Her confidence in me erases any hesitation I might have had that resigning was the right choice.
I don’t start imagining new projects and activities for myself yet, for now I’m simply content to be.
Lying out on my balcony again in a way that’s become second nature, I text my girl: What are you wearing?
She responds a few seconds later with a picture of herself in the nude.
I reach under boxers especially tailored to my size—my last parting gift from the COE—and start to jack off.
I wonder, if I come over the edge of the balcony, what poor sap it’ll fall on thinking it’s bird shit.
Ha. I never realized such small tortures could bring such simple satisfaction to me.
This new life as Darius might just prove to be fun.
You’re fucking incredible. Hate that you’re working. Can’t wait to have you all to myself tomorrow night. I send her a picture of my hard cock against Sundale’s impressive skyline.
She does not respond satisfactorily. About that. I messed up. I have a photoshoot for the Wyvern and Vanessa. Can we do Saturday?
Rage permeates my being. My urge to text the Wyvern, Vanessa, Mr. Singkham—to cut power to the entire damn COE power grid—is so strong the lights in my own penthouse flicker.
I set my phone down in a rage, take several deep breaths, and bring the lights back.
The poor sap that was about to get cummed on is spared. This time.
I don’t storm her apartment, bend her over one of those ridiculous colorful couches she has, and spell my name in bright-red handprints on her perfect round ass. Instead, I simply exhale anger and respond to her text. OK. Look at that. Growth.
And I’m rewarded for my sacrifice. I’ll make it worth it, promise.
I smile. Expect punishment.
I’d expect nothing less.
I grin up at the sky, liking this life already.
This life as Darius.