by Sebastian Ex
“Put them in the dishwasher.”
“You put one bowl in the dishwasher?”
“No, I’ll wait for morning and put my coffee cup in it too.”
“You put one bowl, one coffee cup and maybe a glass in it then turn it on?”
“Is that a problem?”
“It’s wasteful.”
“What do I care?”
“It wastes water and energy.”
“Whatever, just put them in the dishwasher. Tomorrow you can get whatever else you need for cleaning. I’m going to bed.”
“Where can I sleep?”
I stop as I’m halfway out of the kitchen. “Follow me,” I say. I lead her down the hall and to the bedroom across the hall from my room. “Here.” I push the door open and step back. “It’s not girly or anything, so tomorrow you can pink it up, or buy whatever you want to make it your own. If you want the walls painted, let me know and I’ll get someone in.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says as she steps in and runs her hand over the four-poster bed in the dead center of the room. She walks around and touches all the surfaces, but she finally stops at the window overlooking the bustling street below. No matter what time of the day or night, there’s always someone walking around down below. She sits in the chair and stares outside, taking in the city lights and activity. “It’s really perfect. Thank you,” she says quietly as she turns to face me, more tears falling from her eyes.
“There’s no window coverings, or whatever they’re called, so you’ll be up the moment the sun rises. I’ll get that sorted out tomorrow.”
“No need, I love sunshine on my face. Reminds me I’ve lived through another day,” her voice is wispy and soft.
Her statement floors me. Rips my cold heart right out of my chest and completely immobilizes me. What type of secrets is she hiding, just to be thankful she’s lived another day?
“Goodnight,” I announce as I back out of her room. “The door has a lock, in case you feel safer that way.”
“The devil’s danced on my body and clawed his way through my veins. If I can endure the things he did to me, I can sleep with the door unlocked. Goodnight, Matt.”
What the fuck?
Five
“Good morning,” I say while sipping on my coffee. Ella walks in dressed in my oversized t-shirt and boxer briefs. Her mousy hair is all disheveled and she looks like she could do with another ten hours of sleep. “Coffee?” I offer as she quietly goes to sit at the island counter.
“Yes please. I can make it, I just need a moment to wake up.”
“I’m here, so I’ll do it. How do you take it?”
“Just half and half. But I can do it,” she insists.
“I’m not going to argue with you over coffee. If you want to make it, then make it. Coffee mugs are over there.” I point to the cabinet, “And clearly, you can see the fridge.” I walk over and drag a chair out to sit. “Make me something to eat too.”
“What would you like? An omelet?”
“I don’t have any eggs. Just toast. When you’ve finished breakfast, you’ll need to get changed so I can take you to the store.”
“I don’t have anything to wear except for this, and my work uniform.”
I rake my eyes over her. Her long, thin legs have no shape to them. Her hips are too narrow but her breasts are buried under my t-shirt, in which she’s swimming, so I can’t really see them. “I’ll get you some sweats.”
“Thank you.” She looks around the kitchen, trying to familiarize herself with everything.
I can’t help but drink her in. I think if she got a haircut, maybe added some color to the drab strands, applied some make-up, and put on some nicely-fitted clothes, she might turn out to be okay. “You’re getting a haircut today too.”
“Why?” She grabs her hair and looks at it in a questioning way.
“Because it looks terrible. If you’re going to be representing the Onyx Club, you need to look the part. You’ll get a haircut, a facial, and have those eyebrows of yours waxed. We’ll get you new clothes and shoes first.”
“I really don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. I’m only taking you to Target, not Nordstrom’s. And it’s pennies for me, so don’t worry.” She brings over a plate with toast that has the thinnest scraping of butter and marmalade on it. “It’s dry,” I complain. “It needs more. Pass over the marmalade.”
“No, you don’t need it.” I feel my eyebrows pull together as I frown at her. She’s scoops the marmalade away from me, as she shows me a cheeky smile. It’s the most relaxed and natural I’ve seen her.
“Give me the marmalade.”
“No, you don’t need it. You’ll end up tubby or sick with some disease.”
“I work out, and I will not end up diseased.”
“Yes, you will. Trust me, a man of your age needs to care for himself.”
“Settle down. Wait – my age? How old do you think I am?” Man, that pisses me off.
“I’d say about forty-two or forty-three.” I feel my mouth fall open as I look at her. “You’re not that old?” She cringes away. “Sorry.”
“So you should be,” She smiles again and puts the marmalade away. “I’m thirty-eight, thank you very much.”
“Oh, wow! I honestly thought you were older.”
“Why?” Intriguing.
“Because your hair has flecks of gray. You’re a little soft around the middle, and you have lines around your eyes. And the way you carry yourself, like you’re somebody’s father.”
I chew and swallow on the bland, tasteless piece of toast. “How do I carry myself?”
“You’re very confident and controlling, and you’re also very sure in the way you talk. A man like you knows what he wants, and goes after it until he gets it. Your demeanor is very domineering.”
I chuckle and have another bite of my toast. “Good. I’m glad you understand how I am. Now, get me the marmalade because this tastes like cardboard.”
“No, you can eat it the way I gave it to you. And I’m done with my coffee. When you’re finished, I’ll stack them in the dishwasher and I’ll be good to go.”
I eat the last bite, and hand her the plate. “I’ll go get you some sweats.”
“Pick out anything you like,” I say as we walk into Target.
“Just a t-shirt and jeans will do.”
“No, a t-shirt and jeans won’t be enough. You need everything. Here, do you like this?” I pick-up a black dress and show Ella, she crinkles her nose and slightly shakes her head. “Fine, what about this?” I put the black dress away and take a yellow flowy-looking dress off the rack.
“Yeah, that’s really pretty.”
“Fine.” I sling it over my elbow and go to walk away.
“Hang on, it may not be my size.”
“What size are you and I’ll get the correct one?”
“I’m a two.”
My head swings around and looks at her. “A two? Are you serious? A two?”
“I’ve never been big, but when I was with him he used to…” she stops talking, having caught herself saying too much to me.
“He used to what?” I ask casually, trying not to spook her.
“Nothing.” She clams up, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t find me again.”
Again? What the hell is going on? I need to find out. I think she might be in danger, and I don’t want to be caught off guard. I’ll be damned if anything or anyone is going to get to her.
“Here, you need some of these.” I hold up a pair of dress pants.
“What for?” she questions.
“Because I said so. Now pick some more things or I’ll end up buying the entire store for you.”
Ella tries to conceal her smile, and she steps away while looking at the clothes. For every one she picks out and holds up, I take two more off the shelf to add to the pile I’m carrying for her.
With my arms almost filled, she goes to the panties and b
ras. “Do you mind waiting here, I don’t really want you to see what I get.”
“I’m going to see anyway because I’m paying for it.”
“Oh…yeah,” she sighs. Ella takes a deep breath, pulls her shoulders back then walks around the women’s intimate apparel section. She picks up a pair of atrocious granny panties and quickly buries it under her arm.
“What the hell did you just pick up?”
“Panties,” she whispers to me, while looking around to see if anyone saw.
“Those aren’t panties, they’re parachutes. You need something nicer.” I grab a cute little lacy thong. “Here, like these.” I thrust them into her hands and rummage around for different colors.
“I can’t wear those.” Her face is red, and by red I mean like it’s on fire.
“Why not?”
“Because they’re only for beautiful women.”
For fuck’s sake. “Well, these are the only things I’m buying you. From what I hear, it makes women feel desired and sexy to wear them. Get as many as you want, but if I see those disgusting things over there in the laundry – not that I do the laundry – I’ll burn them.”
Ella clutches two pairs of the lacy, very sexy panties in her hand. “Thank you.”
“And these. They’re alright.” I say as I look at some purple ones with a little black satin bow on the front. “Here, take them in purple, red, yellow, and green.”
Ella holds a pair and looks at the price. “Oh my god, they’re so expensive! They’re fifteen dollars a pair. Three pairs will do, I’ll keep washing them.”
“Did I tell you to look at the price tags?” I scold as I grab some more panties.
“No.”
“Then it’s none of your business how much they cost.”
“But so far, it’s over four hundred dollars. I’m not sure I’ll be able to repay that much.”
I still my movements and look up at her. “What?”
“What?” she queries.
“How do you know how much all this is going to cost?”
“I’ve been adding it as we go along, including the extra things you’ve been picking up,” her soft voice says.
“How much exactly is this going to cost?”
“Four hundred and fifty-eight dollars and forty-five cents. If it’s too much I’ll put some back.”
Well, fuck me. She’s got a brain for numbers.
“You’ll put nothing back, and we’re not leaving here ‘til we have eight hundred dollars’ worth of clothes and shoes for you. Now, go get bras and God help you if you pick something which is fat-girl ugly. Only something sexy, and if you think you can get one past me, then I’ll make you show them to me.” Or model them for me, then I can have the pleasure of removing them, with my teeth. My tongue could take a detour, a small pit stop inside your cunt, and I can lick your clit, suck it into my mouth as you grind your hips onto my face...
Shit, calm down, Matthew.
“Matt, are you okay?” Damn it, she caught me having a fuck fantasy about her.
“I’m fine,” I say, though my voice sounds gravelly, strained. “Go get bras, and we’ll go get shoes before we leave to have lunch.”
“I can make us something when we get back to your place.”
“I’m taking us out for lunch, no arguments. You really have to learn to just accept what I do, because it’s going to happen regardless of whether you like it or not.”
She shrugs and turns away. She doesn’t talk much, but that’s fine with me. I don’t like them overly vocal.
“Order what you like, but you must have dessert too.”
Ella sits and looks at me, suspiciously. “Why do I have to have dessert?”
“Because you’re way too skinny.”
“I admit I’ve lost weight. But I’ve always been slight, even when I was young and Mom and Dad…” she pauses and smiles. Her eyes brighten and the loveliest smile makes her entire face beam with happiness. Her eyes look off into the distance, and for a moment she’s transported to a time when she must have been happy. A small giggle leaves her mouth and she sounds just like a child, a happy, confident child. But just as quickly as those emotions transport her to happiness, they’re replaced by darker thoughts. It’s obvious to me because her eyes become red and tears pool in them as she struggles to hold onto whatever control it is she’s clinging to. “Excuse me,” she says as she stands and dashes from the table. I turn and watch her run. Hopefully, a few minutes in the bathroom will be what she needs. I’m not fond of teary women.
“Hi there. Are you ready to order?” a young waitress asks. She’s fucking hot. Nice tits that sit high, gorgeous red lipstick, and the bluest of blue eyes contrast with her flaming red curls. I can’t help but look at her body, allowing myself a moment of lust, and imagine how she’d be kneeling between my legs as I pull on her mane and she takes me deep into her throat.
“Yes, I think I know what I’d like.” She smiles coyly at me, definitely understanding what I’m saying. She bites her lip and arches a perfect eyebrow up as she cocks a hip.
“And what would that be, sir?” Her tone drops to a dangerously husky pitch, as she leans forward at the waist, pushing her fuckable tits toward me.
“I’d like something to lick, nice and slow.”
Her eyes turn dark and she inhales deeply. “Oh God,” she moans as she clenches her thighs together. “Maybe I can make that happen,” she squeaks.
“Can you recommend something with a lot of cream, rich in flavor with a hint of salt?”
“Hmmm,” she whimpers and I notice how she moves closer to me.
“Something that makes my mouth water? Something to make me perk up and take interest. Have you got anything like what I want on the menu?”
“I’m sure I can find something for you out back in the storeroom. I’ll go look.” Yep, she knows I’m going to follow, she’s knows I’m going to fuck her mouth, and she knows she’s going to love it. “It’s the door past the restrooms.”
“Good idea, go look. Maybe you should get on your knees to check under the shelves.”
“Oh God. Yes, sir.” She turns and almost runs out of the dining room. And I know when I step into the storeroom, I’ll find a beautiful young woman on her knees waiting for me.
I peruse the menu for another moment, looking at what I’m going to order for my lunch. I’m sure I’ll be ravenous once I shoot my cum down my waitress’s throat. I stand and move toward the storeroom. Ella’s on her way back, and I see she’s been crying. I grab her upper arm and gently run my thumb over her skin.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“I’ll be fine. Can we just leave, please?”
“Let’s go.” Without letting go of her arm, I lead her out of the café. We had already taken the bags to the car before we stopped off for lunch. “Do you want to go buy groceries? If so I’ll take you to Walmart.”
“Yeah, considering there’s not much back at your house.” I open her door and wait ‘til she gets in before I round the car and get into the driver’s side. My hard-on makes it difficult to sit, and then I remember. I left the waitress in the store room. Damn it, she’ll be waiting for me, and my cock is still hard.
Calm down, Matthew.
I pull out of the parking lot, and don’t think about the waitress again. Instead, my mind is occupied with the plain Jane sitting beside me.
Six
“Cut it short,” I say to the woman as she clips the cape around Ella’s neck.
“No, I don’t want it short. I like it this length.”
“To her shoulders,” I instruct the stylist, ignoring Ella.
“I said no, I’m not cutting it short. I don’t care what you say.”
“Leave us for a moment,” I tell the confused stylist. She scurries away and I stand behind Ella, looking at her reflection, holding her eyes in the mirror. “You’ll look better when you cut it short.”
“No, I’m not cutting it short. I’ll cut it to shoulder-length, but I’m
not losing everything.”
“It’s ratty and needs to be styled.”
“Well she can cut this much off,” she says, holding her hand just below her shoulder. “No more. I’m not compromising on that, and if you want to argue, I’ll ask her give me a treatment and color, that will cost you more money.” Hello, tigress. I like this side of her. “Are we clear, Matt?”
“Don’t push your luck. I’ll concede it is your hair. You can do what you like with it. However if you insist on keeping it long, you need to assure me you have the proper hair shit to keep it looking good.”
“Ha!” She laughs out loud. “’Proper hair shit’, what does that entail?”
“I don’t know. Whatever crap you women need to keep it from looking like that.” I point to her hair.
“How do you know what makes a woman feel good? The panties, the bras, the ‘hair shit’, the clothes, how do you know these things?”
“Because I pay attention, and when I do pay attention, I’m rewarded with pussy. So I listen to what women say, and I store it in my brain so I can recall the information when it’s needed. And now, it’s needed.”
“Well you’re different than most men. They don’t listen, and they certainly don’t care how women feel.”
“I’m not like any other man you’ve met before, Ella. I can promise you that.”
Her face flushes and her eyes dart away. I look over at the stylist and call her back. “Are we ready to go?” she asks looking between me and Ella.
“Give her whatever she wants. A facial, hair treatments and color, too.” Ella smiles at me, and it actually makes me happy to make her smile. “I’ll be back later. Make sure you wax your eyebrows too.”
“We’ll be about an hour,” the stylist says.
“I’m going for a coffee.”
As I turn to leave I hear the stylist say to Ella, “Man, he’s one intense boyfriend.”
Ella responds, “Oh no, he’s not my boyfriend, I’m his housekeeper.”
First I smile, then I scowl. I want to fuck her, and I don’t like her thinking of me as only her boss.
Fuck, now I’m hard.
I walk into the café restroom while I wait for Ella and know I can’t keep functioning with my cock so hard. Thoughts of that gorgeous-looking waitress, and the memory of Ella holding those barely-there panties is enough to make and keep me hard, torturing me with want.
