Castle of Glass [Elijah Cole]

[Zelda (DELETED 4403)]

Zelda wasn’t an unfeeling woman, that much was obviously certain. But nor was she completely selfish. They walked along in silence, Elijah not letting go of her hand even once. Normally, Zelda was full of bubbles, unable to stop and asking mindless questions. Not overbearingly so, but rarely did she ever fall into the kind of desultory funk that she had fallen in there, rolling along beside Elijah. Onlookers might think that she had done something wrong; that she was in trouble, the way her shoulders were slumped and her knuckles were white as she clutched tight to Elijah’s hand.

Was this their first argument? Zelda thought so. She cast her memory back, recalling all the different discussions that they had had; they had never ended in an argument, had they? She never allowed them to, because she was a naturally happy person. At least, she thought that she was. She was rarely ever plagued by depression or unhappiness or uncertainty. She was very certain of herself and of her life and loathed depression. She didn’t think that there was time for it, and life was short. It was to be lived. One could not live properly if not happy, right?

She wondered if, even unbeknownst to her, something had changed inside of her. The slow realisation of eternity, the banishment of her monthly cycle etching into her psyche the realisation that time was endless, now. And perhaps her psyche now relaxed, thought it might have some time to indulge in the darker thoughts and emotions. Every now and again Zelda’s fingers would tighten ever so slightly on Elijah’s hand; every now and again she sidle up beside him, her shoulder brushing against his. He was so silent, broody almost.

Why was he taking her with him?

Does he want to be alone?

Uncertainty. She wasn’t accustomed to it. To self-doubt, where a man was concerned. She thought that she should help him out and take herself elsewhere – had he not wanted to be joined? Is that why he was silent, because she had somehow derailed his plans for the evening? No… no, she told herself she couldn’t think that way. When had she ever really cared? She expected that he would tell her, if she were somehow in the way…

Finally they were inside the elevator, alone, the sound of the world outside sliced away as the metallic doors slid shut. Her bottom lip had been sucked between her teeth; subconsciously she had been gnawing, nervous. Nervous? When the **** did she ever get nervous?! She heaved a sigh and released her lip, tinged a little in red. Her fangs never went away, and she had scratched at her own skin.

”I’m sorry Elijah I didn’t… I mean if you had plans I didn’t have to come home with you. I… just forget I said anything at all, okay? Forget the whole thing,” she said. She herself couldn’t forget it; the discussion had been weighing on her all the way home, and she felt as if she had broken something, and there was no going back. Her wide green eyes turned, gazed up at Elijah, inquisitive and full of regret.

[Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)]

"Don't." The contraction was out of his mouth before he could even process the words that he needed to put together to complete it. He felt defeated. He felt barren. He felt in that moment utterly debased by a woman who usually was so very upbeat. He felt as if she had crushed something inside of him and he was struggling to put back together the pieces. Right now, she didn't have the right to say anything more. She didn't have the right to apologize to him.

Why, first of all, would she feel the need to apologize? That frustrated him. As a man, Elijah had considered himself years wiser. His mother had always teased him, telling him that he should have been the Oldest instead of one of closer to being the Youngest. Those were titled in his family, indeed. He had two sisters and one brother. He was surrounded by happy family members, most of the time, but had always considered to be the loner of the group. He always had enjoyed being on his own. He always had made his own way, never letting anyone influence his decisions or his wants in his life.

Now, he was gently leading Zelda off the elevator as the doors whooshed open to his Penthouse. The code had been long since entered which floor to take him to. He tried to keep his face a mask, to push the concern deep inside himself. He had always been a child that watched instead of spoke. That intervened only when necessary. He had been at one time considered the peace keeper of the family until some reached an age of emotional maturity that he had seemed to been born with.

Where he did not care to hurt the woman at his side, he nearly grimaced with out sharp his own voice sounded. In the elevator, it had been nearly cutting. It took only a moment to guide her off of the lined silver box and over towards his living room. He gently coaxed her down onto the edge of that white leather chair - one with a high back and no arms that they had some time ago ravished each other upon. As Colonel wagged his tail, Cole managed to unclip his leash and let that beautiful beast trollop off towards his water dish.

Alone for a few minutes, Elijah brought his hand up and scrubbed it over his face. There was a lot that they didn't know about each other. Elijah had worked for a few years as a Veterinarian, but found it more fulfilling to volunteer his services than to have his own practice. His parents afforded him this venture, especially after the loss of one of his dear friends. The last clue to her location had been an area around this city. And he had been sick to his stomach in knowing that she no doubt was alone. She didn't have a family like he did.

"You don't get to say you are sorry and you didn't mean, when you clearly did. You don't get to say 'forget the whole thing' when it was something that had obviously been important enough that you had to." His voice was quiet. His voice, though thick with emotion, seemed to not quake with the tension in the room. Colonel's nails pattered over the tile before he flopped himself down on that extra large dog bed and proceeded to start snoring.

"You cannot come to me and expect me not to want to do better by you. To do right by you." He felt his heart twisting. He felt his chest tightening as he neared that woman with the once bright smile, the lustrous eyes, and her ever flaming red hair. He reached out, brushing his fingers over some of that very bits of redness, his thumb touching her temple and finding no pulse there. "You were walking away from me. You were going to leave me."

It was a harsh reality. Perhaps, because when women walked away from him before he never felt the urge to stop them. He never felt the need to explain why, where, when, or how to them. He never felt bereft with an instant loss - as if Zelda was taking a very physical part of himself with her. Slowly, he sank down onto his hunches in front of her. He put himself more upon eye level with her instead of looking down upon the woman he had brought back into his home.

"You said you wanted a plan. Is there a deadline for this plan? Is there an expectation what it is supposed to include besides you? Did you want a year? Six months? Five years?" Though, in a way, he may have sounded sarcastic to her despite his very gentle voice, he wanted details. His face was very intense. His crystal clear blue eyes were slightly narrowed despite the way his dark, black hair fell over the right side of his face. The freed length brushed just past his shoulders and he could feel this intensity within himself just seem to solidify like an unbearable weight within his chest.

"I need you to know that you can come to me and talk with me without feeling like you need to scream at me to be heard, Zelda. I cannot make your worries better if you do not tell me what they are." Though he had made a recent living out of figuring out what the problems were of animals; they had no voice. The woman that sat before him had a voice. He got down onto his knees before her, perhaps a better position overall for it was a long time to squat down.

He let his hands reach out, but at the last moment instead of letting his hands run over the outer sides of her thighs, he curled his fingers away. He pressed his palms onto either sides of the chair, encasing her in a pseudo-cage of his body.

[Zelda (DELETED 4403)]

Zelda expected, perhaps, that they would forget about it. In her experience, men weren’t so good at discussing their feelings and they were all very willing to forget any kind of disagreement. They’d go into the apartment and they’d close the door and he’d let the dog go. He’d kiss her. And that would be that. Why else would he bring her back to the apartment? These were the shallow thoughts that sifted through her brain; the ones that she hoped could be true, even though she’d never known Elijah to be so dismissive before. Hell, as her brain tarried and flustered she started to wonder what she did know about Elijah.

Well, she knew plenty enough about his past, now. She knew that he wasn’t one of those men who lied about loving animals. He did actually love animals, which raised him in her estimation. She, too, loved animals. They seemed drawn to her, sometimes. Weirdly enough, she felt like some Disney princess, with the way the animals were drawn to her. It was kind of comforting.

Rather than gain a positive reaction to her apology and her request for forgetfulness, however, she instead gained a sharp reprimand. At least, it sounded like a reprimand. She was stunned into silence even as she was led over to the soft, white couch. She moved like a woman numb; she wanted to lean down and remove her skates; either that, or she wanted to tear herself out of Elijah’s grasp and make her escape.

Because, in that moment, she realised it wasn’t Elijah she expected to be shallow and willingly forgetful of their recent argument. Instead, she knew that it was she who had requested he forget because that was exactly what she wanted to do. And, to forget, she wanted to strip him of his clothing and have him strip her of hers. But he wasn’t going to let that happen. She had her sitting down, and he was speaking to her in that stern tone of voice. Stern, and tainted with something… heavy. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, the greenness flickering between terror and stubbornness. She had asked him to forget about it. Couldn’t he just do what she had asked him to?!

Maybe it was the way he lowered his body; the way he finally ended up on his knees. But, as soon as he wasn’t standing over her, something softened. She wanted to launch herself at him, wanted to shut him up by locking her lips over his and clamping her arms around his neck. Simultaneously, she wanted to crawl and clamber backwards, up and over that couch and toward the front door. The elevator doors. The exit. Both options were ways in which to escape having to talk about this thing that she had started. She had regrets. Oh, so many of them. She should have calmed down. She shouldn’t have called Elijah when in that kind of mood.

Though it was a mood that hadn’t entirely eked away. And, staring into the crystal blue of his eyes she knew that they had to find some kind of answer; she had to try to soothe his qualms, and hers. Otherwise it would happen again. It would be a black cloud hanging over their every moment together. She had to either talk to him, or leave him. And, currently, he looked as if he might shatter into a million pieces if she were to do the latter.

And so she stayed put. Her lips pressed together as she removed one skate, and then the other. She avoided his penetrating gaze as she lifted her feet onto the couch, pushed herself back into the softness of the chair, and hugged her knees to her chest. Her chin rested on her knees as she finally looked up.

“I’m not asking you do anything for me,” she said. She kept a straight face. “I’m asking for your sake. You need a plan if you can’t let me go. Because I’m going to go on living like this and not aging, and you are going to get old,” she said, slowly. She licked her lips, and then blinked, slowly. “….and if… if I feel for you what I … what I think I feel for you, then I don’t want to watch you die. So,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “You can think about it. You can take a week, a month, a year. Two, three years. But as soon as you find your first grey hair you need to make a decision,” she said. Her eyes now locked on to his. She didn’t think she’d have to spell it out.

“Otherwise, I’m sorry. I really do apologise. I overreacted. I was feeling… fragile and I took it out on you. We can keep doing what we’re doing if you’re happy, doing what we’re doing,” she said. She tried for a smile that didn’t quite reach its full potential, but otherwise didn’t look away.

[Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)]

Kneeling there, Elijah knew that he was not a perfect person. He knew that he was not the ideal man. He knew that he seemed to need to prove something to the beautiful redhead in front of him. She had come to him, stating that she needed him. And in all his lighthearted teasing, expectant that Zelda would just come back at him with a carefree response; he had realized she was not joking. He knew that not everyone could be emotionally free. He knew that not everyone had such joyous smiles on their faces all the time.

He now knew that Zelda could twist his attempted teasing moment into full bloomed irritation. She was in the middle of her mood. And with that, Elijah was okay with it. He was okay with the more serious side of the woman that now took her time taking off her skates and setting them down onto the floor. He could see that briefly irritated expression upon her face. He could see that she struggled to talk to him. He wanted to know what she expected of him.

It seemed almost too easy as he knelt there with her. It almost seemed too easy that she told him that she would never age. He knew she was different. How could you be intimate with someone and not know they were different? He had heard the whispers and tales around the city. He had heard the clucks of other tongues, the growl of animals, and wide berths that were given to certain individuals he had seen the same time every night on his walks with Colonel.

He seemed to grip the cushion underneath her. He did so, dropping his eyes as she pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to draw her into his embrace. He wanted to tell her everything would be alright and that he'd laugh off how she expected him to get gray hair. But, he couldn't. He couldn't laugh because that would be laughing at her notion that he'd get older. And in that moment, even though he was nearing his thirties at a rapid pace, he pulled back.

She was asking him to come to grips with his mortality. It was not even for her own sake, really. She was giving him the notion that he could die without her. As she sat there with him, quietly telling him that he should have a plan for himself, he shook his head. Almost, of course, as if he didn't want to accept the idea that he would one day die. He was already growing older, helping those that couldn't help himself, getting together with his family in one state or country where they would all touch base or vacation together. His mother never stopped pestering him to settle down. His father would just send him a wink when his mother worked herself up into a flurry about his previous bisexual behavior and his past girlfriends and boyfriends. She had even went so far as to mention adopting so she could have more grandchildren to enjoy.

And then he had gotten the postcard. It was almost eight months ago now, and he was losing hope that his childhood friend had moved on. He had come to Canada under the impression that she was residing here. He had dual nationality, thanks to his mother's years in the government and his father's military background. Swallowing, he bent his head and he leaned forward. He pressed his forehead to her shin and his arms snaked around her. His palms sunk between the chair's cushion and her rear.

He held her for a moment, just like that. Oh, it was completely obvious that he did not want to face his mortality. It was completely obvious that she had dropped a ticking time bomb into his lap. His blood rushed from his head, sinking down as if one had received such terrible news. He hid his face from her, not wanting her to see the fact that he was completely beside himself at the thoughts of letting go of anything at the moment.

"It will work out." He murmured with his head buried. He had seen those beautiful, wide green eyes of hers and he couldn't bear to frown into them. He took a moment, lifting his head enough to brush a kiss to the back of her hand that she clutched her knees together with.

"I know you are sorry. You can feel any way you want to with me, Zelda. Fragile or not, my darling." He pushed up slowly, getting to his feet just to swoop down and pick her up into his arms. His muscles underneath that shirt bunched, taking her weight as if it was nothing. He sank down onto the couch then, settling her down against him. He needed her there. He needed to know that she was real and that she stayed. He warred with himself, wondering if she still wanted to leave. He pressed a kiss to her temple and proceeded to stroke a hand through those gorgeous, shiny locks of her red hair.

"I need some time." He reassured her quietly. As he closed his eyes against the cushion of the chair, he just leaned back with her in his arms. He needed some time. He suddenly felt exhausted, the dark circles underneath his eyes went with his hectic volunteering schedule. He squeezed his arm around her a little tighter, perhaps just to ensure that she wouldn't just get up and ... go.

[Zelda (DELETED 4403)]

There were things that Elijah would have to think about. His forehead rested against her shin and his arms wrapped around her; he looked like a tortured man, as if he was under pressure, as if he had only a minute before he had to decide between life and death. She felt bad, of course, for throwing all the cards on the table at the same time, but simultaneously she was host to a justified, stubborn satisfaction. It was a selfish reaction. Like the weight had been lifted from her shoulders and placed steadfastly over his. The ball was in his court and it was up to him with how he wanted to serve it, and lob it back at her. Backhand and gentle? Or overhand and hectic?

She had said what she needed to say, however; and, she held her breath. Had she said enough? Was he going to pressure her anymore? Did he believe that she had had her say, or would he try to eke out her every concern until she was making things up? There was, of course, a lingering anxiety. First it had only to do with physical distance, and now it was due to mental distance. Emotional distance. She felt as if she had taken a knife to his soul and carved her name into it, for better or for worse.

It had never been her intention. But here they were. And the consequences would have to fall where they could.

Elijah stood and swept Zelda up in his arms; she had time only to gasp and to go with the momentum, her arms flailing to latch around his neck, though she knew he wouldn’t drop her. Within moments they were ensconced once more in the softness of the armchair, and Zelda wriggled to make sure the bones of her *** were not digging too uncomfortably into Elijah’s thighs. She sighed and curled in to Elijah, her head resting against his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady sound of his heart, a heady bass rhythm that she was completely in love with. Her fingers flittered and her hand rested flat against his neck; she can feel the vibration of the blood pumping through his vein, and the pulse of his life beneath the skin.

“It’s fine, ‘Lijah. It’ll be fine. Take as much time as you like,” she says, after a few minutes. She lifts her face to look up at Elijah. She can tell, just by looking at him, that he’s exhausted. It wouldn’t have helped, her taking blood from him earlier, in her fit of rage. A frown furrowed her brow. The hand flitted away from his neck to caress a line from his temple down to his jaw.

“You’re tired. You should sleep,” she said.

Of course she wouldn’t admit that it was too early for her to sleep. But she would stay there, with him. Even if she lay there curled up beside him, wide awake, she would stay with him. Long enough to reassure him that she wouldn’t leave. Not straight away.

[Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)]

He brought her back to his Penthouse because he needed the privacy. He brought her back here with him because it had been a long day and his plans for the evening were to walk Colonel and then fall asleep in front of the television. Instead, he laid back with his woman in his arms and felt pulled in a million different ways. He knew what she wanted from him. He knew that he would have to make a decision. He couldn't do it right now. He couldn't reassure her that he was going to stay young and healthy forever.

So, he lowered his chin. He buried his face into the rich redness of her hair and he inhaled her scent deeply. He couldn't get enough of her. He couldn't let her go. He had tried. She had seemed so very hell bent to leave him, but something inside of him was screaming. He had no more questions for her. He had no more demands of her at this time. She had said enough to drown him in the realization that he had fallen in love with one of the tales of the night.

Mentally, Elijah was too exhausted to pick up the pieces inside himself. Never before had he felt so strangled by the truth. Though his face looked almost relieved that she had stayed, his inner self was tortured. She didn't ask him. She didn't tell him one way or the other. No, she simply told him the truth in her eyes. She told him how their lives would be for the next little while. So, with a deep breath he was thankful for the weight of her against his chest. His hand sank through her locks and threaded through them gently as his other arm laid around her back.

Perhaps once upon a time he'd palm that rounded curve freely, but not tonight. No, he wouldn't tempt the snapping mouth of hers to insult him for his fetish of rear ends. He kept his hands appropriately above her waist and just held her that late hour - somewhere past midnight, but so far away from dawn. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, a summer storm edging closer to take the heat from the air. "Will you stay with me tonight, Zelda?"

He now sounded so unsure. His voice was so quiet, heavy with a burden they both knew of now. He didn't seem to be the man to take the words she had and just dismiss them. He wasn't that easy going, perhaps, after all. With his thighs cradling her close, his arms half wrapped around her, his heart beat that ever steady rhythm. It slowed just a little, resting once his eyes struggled to stay open as exhaustion started to creep into his consciousness and the battle began for rest.

"Will you stay?" He asked again, perhaps unsure if he asked the first time. Those crystal blue eyes, dark from emotion, opened briefly only to fall shut once more. His hands squeezed around her tighter, holding her to him.

[Zelda (DELETED 4403)]

Zelda never got in this deep. Sure, she’d seen boys react this way to rejection; they’d think that because she’d given them a free ride that they were somehow exclusive. No, Zelda didn’t think that she was a slut or a whore, because she didn’t prescribe to that kind of culture. If men were allowed to sleep around, then women were allowed to as well. She kept friends who didn’t blink an eye at her attitude, because they were of the same attitude themselves. She’d even slept with a few of her own friends. Men, women, didn’t really matter. It was a free culture. There was no jealousy between them. They were all friends who enjoyed having a bit of fun – and sex was fun. It was a high, without the alcohol or the drugs. Some refused, after a while, because they’d found for themselves another, who prescribed to monogamy. It was a state of mind that shifted and changed.

And Zelda could feel herself changing.

Because she had never seen a grown man look like this before; as if he weren’t just physically exhausted, but emotionally exhausted, too. As if she were the baseball bat and he the ball, and she’d just cracked him right into the outfield. It was empowering, somehow, to think that she could have that kind of effect on a grown man. She knew that she shouldn’t be feeling good about herself. And she didn’t, not completely. But she was still conflicted. She had intended to stay, but his asking her made her want to flee. There was the twin urgency inside of her; to run away from this thing that was happening to her. Not here, with him. With this human. He had told her it would be okay, but he couldn’t see the future. How could he know?

She took a deep breath that she did not need. It shuddered in her chest. She licked her lips and smiled, brightly; she summoned from within her the Zelda that she knew and loved. The one who lived only in the moment and who had never demanded a plan from anyone before in her life, simply because she herself had never had a plan. She abhorred plans. She liked to live on the tail of the wind, flung wherever it chose to fling her. Live in this moment, right now, and don’t think about the future. The future would come, and she would deal with it when it got here. But for now? For now she could please this broken man and try to reassure him. Because she wanted to. And she didn’t want to leave.

“Yes, Elijah. I’ll stay here tonight. And you’re going to have to deal with me during the day, too, because I won’t be able to go anywhere. You’ll have the pleasure of my company tomorrow night, when I wake up. When the sun goes down. I won’t stay here in this apartment forever because there are things I should do, and I might go stir crazy. But for tonight – and tomorrow – I will stay,” she explained, her voice a soft caress. Nearly a lullaby.

But she didn’t stay there on his lap. No, having regained something of her previous zest, she uncurled her legs and forced Elijah’s grip from around her body. She clambered from his lap. She had to pause for a second as her feet hit the ground; she felt shorter of stature, without her skates, and a little weird, having to walk on two feel like a Neanderthal. As soon as she was steadied she reached out for Elijah’s hands, intent on pulling him up out of the couch.

“But you can’t sleep there, bub. Not with me on top of you. Unless you want to wake up completely numb and unable to move. C’mon. Up, up. And you need a shower. You smell like dog,” she said, her voice naturally infused with her usual happy candour.

[Elijah Cole (DELETED 5419)]

As he laid there with her against his chest, he couldn't help but think of his time with her. He couldn't help but think of that very first meeting where she had knocked him on his *** and he got right back up and followed her. She was a spitfire. She was his beautiful spitfire. But, in that bit of truth, she was also a force to be reckoned with. She took nothing from no one and demanded even less. He worried that he had, in a way, trapped her. Had he? Was she staying just because he asked her too?

As sleep started to tease over his consciousness, his brows drew together. His eyes had long since shut. It seemed that a good dinner and a walk was all man and beast alike needed as he was trying to follow suit with the gorgeous beast, Colonel, that snored in the corner on his over-sized bed. What was he doing with her? What kind of right did he have with her? His fingers would squeeze just a bit tighter upon her back, holding her to his chest where it felt so right to have her.

In all the years of the relationships he had, none had been this intense. None had been taken to that quick, harsh extreme of a woman leaving him and telling him to have a good life as tonight had gone. It was always mutual. The flame had burnt out, he was leaving town, or the summer was over. Never had he put himself into a situation before that had the potential to get serious so quickly. And, as if he was replying the whole scene in his mind as she slipped out of his arms, his dislike contorted his face into a mask of pain.

He didn't see that big, beautiful smile at first. He struggled to open his eyes when she started talking to him about staying. Relief washed over him and he could almost feel himself falling for another moment into a dream. It was warm. It was comforting. It wouldn't be empty as the prior nights had. Even if she had this plan of his hanging over his head now, he vowed to cherish her as she attempted to get him up. "I'm tired, Zelda."

He said that, almost like a petulant child. He said it, almost as if a shower would mean punishment instead of a comfortable bed. He swallowed, the bile that had risen in his throat to choke him had subsided, leaving his throat burning. Once up, he stumbled a few steps and gave a sigh. As if those five minutes of shut-eye gave him his second wind, he hoisted her up over his shoulder and walked them both down to the Master bathroom. His tone changed quickly, knowing he'd be careful in his words to her now. "You can be on top when I'm done then."

And yes, in that moment, he gave her *** a light tap before letting her slide down the front of him and shared that dog scent with her. He gave a wink to the princess and began pulling his clothes off.

[Zelda (DELETED 4403)]

Boohoo, she wanted to say. So, he was tired? He could suck it up and do as he was told. No more sulking around, for either of them. Zelda wouldn’t have that anymore. Any scolding that might have been gathering on the undulation of her tongue, however, was cut forth and instead uttered in an indecipherable yelp as, unexpectedly, she was off her feet and thrown over Elijah’s shoulder. In fact, she didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe to have to drag his sorry *** all the way to the bedroom and forego the shower because it might have been just that little bit too hard. Or, maybe she’d expected to work a little harder herself to lure him out of his clothes – when, all along, it didn’t take very long at all. Hell, she didn’t even have to ask a second time.

The redhead didn’t retaliate straight away for the slap on the ***. He knew she didn’t like it. She didn’t like being treated like a choice piece of meat, though of course she didn’t accuse that of him anymore. Of course, by this point she realised he had a bit of a fetish, and that no matter what she said or did he wouldn’t be persuaded out of it. By now, she’d become quite proud of her own backside and the power it seemed to have over the man in front of her. And, truth was, he’d shown more tenderness tonight than she’d seen in any man. She couldn’t forget that as she stood there, bereft of his arms around her.

The only retaliation she would give was to bereave herself a little more; to step away from his taller form. She closed the lid on the nearby toilet and perched on top of it. She crossed her legs and leaned back, canting her head to the side as she watched. A smirk rested on her full lips. She wouldn’t help him to remove his clothes. No, he could do that all by himself. As the shirt came off, she let loose a low wolf whistle; as his hands reached for the clasp at his jeans, Zelda got a little more comfortable, not at all shy as her gaze raked the male from head to toe and back again.

“Yeah, baby!” she cat-called. If he wanted to slap her ***, then this was what he would get in return. Hands off. He would be her piece of meat, just for now. Just for her viewing pleasure. She pointed to the shower stall, next.

“Now I want to see you get all wet and soapy,” she demanded, trying her damnedest to stay completely and utterly serious on her makeshift throne.