Chapter 7 #2
I sit up taller. “Well, I don’t want to give this up.
This place to live, this job, because it is money and gives me the opportunity to do what I want to do.
I will admit that it’s a pretty decent setup so I can get my feet on the ground and get myself established.
But what if . . . what if I had fun with it? ”
“Like get the wrong bagels?”
“That, but so much more.” Excitement pulses through me as an idea formulates in my head.
“There’s chemistry between Levi and me. It’s obvious from the way I catch him checking me out and blatantly obvious from the night we first met.
Also, he’s told me he finds me incredibly attractive, so what if I use that to my advantage to torture him? ”
“Oh dear God,” Sandie says as I snatch the email from her.
“Look, right here at the bottom, it says, don’t fuck her. My dad distinctly warned Levi against such behavior, so what if I make it impossible for him not to fuck me?”
Sandie rubs her temples. “You know, I think we could go a different direction. I think we could have a constructive conversation with your father and then with Levi and let them know you’re disappointed in both of them.”
I shake my head. “No, they want to battle? Well, this is war now. My dad wants to teach me a lesson? Well, I’m going to teach him one.
That lesson being don’t mess with me.” Feeling empowered, I continue, “I’m going to prove to him that despite his negativity and lack of belief in me, I can make a career out of what brings me joy.
And Levi, well, he’s going to learn the hard way that I’m not one to mess with either.
He’s going to learn very quickly what he’s missing out on by helping my dad. ”
Sandie slowly nods. “And you’re not up for a conversation?”
“Sure, is that the adult thing to do? Probably, but what will it actually accomplish? I tried having a conversation with my dad before all of this, and this is where we ended up. It’s not going to do anything. I have to show him with action.”
“And Posey?” she asks.
“He made me get bagels at one in the morning, two nights in a row, and didn’t even eat them. Payback is a bitch.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, that sucks. What exactly does payback entail?”
“Erotic torture,” I say, staring at the wall.
She laughs. “I think that’s a first I’ve heard for payback. Erotic torture, okay, tell me what that entails.”
“Ohhh, I don’t think you’re ready for this,” I say, feeling slightly crazed.
“I’m ready,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “Lay it on me.”
Leaning forward, I paint her a picture. “Erotic torture is the apex of blue ball-ism.”
“Did you make up that word?”
“Perhaps,” I reply. “Erotic torture is a fine art, a master class in corrupting unsuspecting cocks.”
“Ehh, are you okay?” she asks.
“Never been better,” I say as my eyes go wild.
“Envision this . . . me, no bra, just a tank top, walking around his space, flirting with him, touching him, resting my hardened nipple on his forearm. Driving him so crazy with need, with lust, that he’ll walk around with a constant hard-on.
He wakes up with one, works out with one, plays his games with one.
Hard-on after hard-on after hard-on. And no amount of dingo dangling with it will the hard-on become flaccid.
He will be hard for the ages.” I move my hand across the sky, staring up at the ceiling.
Sandie is silent for a second. “A few comments. Dingo dangling is a first for me. I’m not sure where that came from, but it will never leave my head. Ever. Second, using the word flaccid, was that by choice?”
“Dingo dangling was a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants terminology,” I say. “And flaccid, yes, that was by choice. Nothing is sadder than a flaccid dick.”
Sandie slightly nods. “Agreed, and hey, this plan, it seems like fun, but what happens when he cracks? Because I have a feeling he will.”
“Then I win . . . in multiple ways.” I wink.
“And the end goal?”
I smile at my friend. “To show these men that women are not their puppets.”
“And what are we?” she asks.
“Strong, confident, smart, and in no need for a penis to dictate our future.” I raise my fist to the sky, feeling drunk off power.
“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m all in. What can I do to help?”
I stare at my friend and smile. “I need to borrow some of your shirts.”
“Why? They’re way too small for your chest size.”
I smile at her. “Exactly.”
Levi: I know this might sound crazy, but can you get more bagels tonight?
I stare down at his text, my teeth grinding together as I read his request over and over. The freaking audacity. Oh, he’ll be getting his bagels. He’ll have so many bagels he won’t know what to do with them.
Wylie: Not a problem. Same count and type?
Levi: Yeah, and can you freeze them?
Wylie: Not a problem. I don’t know how much room is left in the freezer, but I’ll shift some things around.
Levi: Thank you.
Wylie: Anything for you . . . Mr. Posey. And good luck tonight.
Levi: It’s Levi. And thanks.
Wylie: Anything I can help you with today?
Your pencils have been sharpened and are beautifully displayed on the dining room table.
Skittles have been sorted and are waiting for consumption.
I’m almost done with the book, and I must say, Vermont is such an interesting state.
I can’t wait to discuss it with you over a bagel when you get back.
Oh, and I took it upon myself to fold all your underwear a certain way to fit better in your dresser.
Levi: Wow, you’ve been busy. Thanks. The underwear sounds interesting.
Can’t wait to see what you’ve done with it.
And as for other tasks, yeah, do you think you could pull all my laundry out of my drawers and rewash it all, fold it, and put it away?
I love walking into my closet and smelling fresh clothes when I get home.
Wylie: I know the smell you’re referring to. Delicious. Sure thing. Want me to add some fabric softener? I saw that you don’t have any.
Levi: That would be awesome. Thanks. And how did that stain come out?
Wylie: Perfect, looks brand new. Get ready to do your best eating.
Levi: Wow, I’m impressed.
Wylie: Also went shopping for you, so food is stocked up. I’ve also been learning to make that protein smoothie you like so much, and I think I’ve nailed it. I’ll make it for you when you get back.
Levi: Great. Thanks.
Wylie: Okay, safe travels. See you later tonight.
Levi: Yeah, see you tonight.
“What are you doing right now?” Sandie asks over the phone.
“Spraying Levi’s clothes.”
“What?” Sandie asks on a chuckle.
“He asked me to rewash all of his clothes, and there was no way I was going to do that, so I picked up some fabric spray, and I’m giving them a spray down to avoid extra work.”
“Ooo, smart.”
“Thank you. Also stocked up on grocery store bagels and froze those. The fucker won’t even know the difference. And I did what you said to do with the book, wrote the first few pages and then just copy and pasted shit from the internet and formatted it. Doubt he’ll even read it.”
“Did you bind it together like a book?”
“Yup, he’s going to think I’m a magician.”
Sandie laughs. “And the placemat?”
“Found it at West Elm. Bought three on sale, just in case he tries to pull another stain stunt.”
“You are my hero.”
“Thank you, I try. Oh, and because I half-fisted all of my tasks, I was able to sit on his comfy couch today and work on that entry for Patty Ford.”
“How did it come out?” she asks as I open his underwear drawer and spray the fabric down.
“I think okay. I took a screenshot of her and did a silhouette of her body. Still working in the right lettering, but I think it could be a viable option. I want to make a few options, some sexy ones and some discreet ones.”
“I think that’s smart. When’s the boss supposed to be home?”
“Anytime now.”
“What are you wearing?”
Smirking to myself, I say, “A pair of loose-fitting sweatpants being held up single-handedly by my hips and your Mickey Mouse shirt.”
“Oh my God, Wylie.” She laughs. “That shirt is short on me. What the hell does it look like on you?”
“A toddler’s shirt. I had a very hard time getting it over my breasts. Most of my stomach is showing, not wearing a bra, and I plan on playing with my nipples right before he gets home so they’re hard as stones.”
“You’re evil, but also, I’m interested to see how long he can hold out. I’m invested.”
“I’m interested to see as well,” I say.
“And when he gives in, will you give in too?”
“You know, I thought about that, and I don’t know. I’d have to see how it is at the time.”
“I think that’s fair,” she says. “But also for your sake, I hope you give in. I know how much you’ve wanted him.”
“That was before I found out he was in cahoots with my father. Now . . . now I’m seeking revenge.”
“No, you’re seeking erotic torture.”
We both laugh. “He has no idea what’s coming for him.” I hear some fumbling at the front door, so I whisper, “Oh shit, I think he’s here. Talk later.”
“Bye,” she says as I quickly toss the fabric spray under his bed, making a mental note to collect it later.
Before I walk out into the living room, I play with my nipples quickly, making them poke against the fabric of the shirt.
Perfect.
Feeling good, I strut out of his bedroom and down the hall where I get my first glance at him.
He’s wearing the sweatsuit I picked out for him, and his hair looks like he’s been running his hand through it for the better portion of the flight.
He’s left the scruff on his jaw, and there’s some light bruising around his eyes where he got hit in the head the other day.
And to my demise, he looks so fucking good that it pains me to have to conduct erotic torture on him .
. . because I think it’s going to be just as torturous on me.
Stepping in closer, I say, “Welcome home.” He glances to the side, and immediately, his eyes fall to my breasts.
Classic.
I could read this man like a book.