Post by Amy Jo Smyth on Aug 26, 2017 20:46:01 GMT -5
In the Continuing Adventures of Our Hero...
◀◀ Be Kind, Rewind
“You want some ice cream?” I shout, hoping I’m loud enough so that Allison hears me. I set the carton out on the counter, close the freezer door, and turn around. Pet is standing there, grinning, presenting her usual innocent self. It spooks me, as I wasn’t expected anyone to be there. My hand goes over my heart chest, pressing against the location of my heart. “Jesus, fuck, where did you come from?”
“Just over there,” she coos, pointing with her body in the direction of the hallway and bedrooms.
“Well, can’t ever say you don’t move quick,” I say, shaking my head playfully.
“You said ice cream,” she says. “Where is the ice cream?”
I chuckle. “Get some bowls down, huh?”
Pet springs into motion, opening the cabinet pulling down bowls, and putting them on the counter. “Okay, ice cream,” she says, turning to me.
Again, I laugh. “Let me just get Allie, see if she wants some,” I say and exit the kitchen. Allison is in her usual spot, her office, at her desk, typing away. Part of me feels bad for disturbing her but she’s been at this since she got up this morning around seven or eight. For as long as we’ve been together, she’s always slept later than me but almost never stays up later than me. We still hold the tradition that one can’t go to sleep until the other says goodnight, even if by text. It’s all a matter of knowing that the other is okay at the end of the day. Start the day knowing she’s okay, end the day knowing she’s okay. It’s our weird thing; every couple has them.
She doesn’t even see me standing here in the doorway so I just watch her. I love watching her when she works, when she gets like this. It’s a very rare thing. Too often do I walk in on her and she instantly stops. Right now, she’s just lost in her thought, a restless thought that has her distressed and growing red in the face. Her fingers bash against the keyboard with a bit of frustration and anger. I know this look, this feeling. A really good thought just won’t come together or out at all. Most times, when it happens to me, I pull back to come back to it later.
If I were to tap the door frame now, it would send her into a frenzy. I can’t handle that and neither can she. It will spoil the entirety of this day and put her in such a horrible mood. No amount of ice cream can fix that. I wanna actually sleep in my bed tonight and maybe get some touchy-touch. She’ll come out on her, looking for some comfort or something to eat or to just chat and rest.
I leave her and go back to the kitchen. Pet is sitting on the counter, eating the ice cream right out of the carton with a giant serving spoon. She smiles at me and shoves another spoonful of the melting chocolatey goodness into her mouth.
“The ice cream is for everyone, Pet,” I say. She knows that but she doesn’t care.
“You want some?” she asks, holding out of a spoonful for me. The ice cream drips onto the floor as I stare at it. “Okay, more for me.” Pet proceeds to put the spoon into her mouth and eat more.
I move around, grab a spoon and bowl, and sneak in to take a few small scoops for myself. “Clean up and come into the living room? We have to have a little chat.”
Pet nods and slides off the counter. She starts to follow me into the living room with the dripping ice cream container and spoon in hand.
“You are not bringing that into the living room, hell no,” I quickly scold. She puts the ice cream down on the counter and drops the spoon next to it. “Don’t you dare. Clean it up properly.”
Pet frowns and then bats her eyelashes at me in an attempt to charm her way out of having to clean up after herself properly. It doesn’t work and my glare gets her to at least put the carton back in the freezer, uncovered, and drop the spoon noisily into the sink. I plop myself down on the sofa and gobble up a spoonful of ice cream. Pet returns and throws herself down on the sofa next to me. She starts to twirl her finger around the braid of her pigtail and smiles at me.
I start to talk but stop short. It’s only now that I realize what she’s wearing - if she can wearing. The schoolgirl attire doesn’t cover much of anything and well, I’m only human and all that bare flesh is distracting, to say the least. I take my time eating some ice cream to get back on track. We have important things to discuss.
“It’s ‘bout time to lay down some ground rules now that you'll be coming down to the ring with me and I have another big match coming up,” I finally say. Pet is rapt with attention but if she’s listening, that’s another story. She acknowledges me with a nod. “First, no more shirts depicting any form of sexual act between us. Understand?”
Pet, still keeping her index finger intertwined with her pigtail, nods her head a couple times while reaching up to touch at her shoulder with her other hand.
I inhale deeply. “I'll select your wardrobe for the shows from now on because,” I say, stop to think and look at her clothing again. “I don't even know what this is. What is it?
“Schoolgirl, Mistress,” Pet answers.
“That's not what you call me,” I quickly correct, dryly. Something about my tone, intended or not, prompts her to giggle. I hate that title and I never want to be called that, by anyone, ever.
“Doctor Sexy Officer,” she says with a smile, leaning forward. Pet finishes with a slight flick of her tongue and drops back into the couch. I just sit there, swallowing my ice cream slowly and thinking. If Pet knows anything, it’s how to use sex and sexuality to her advantage. It never fails to surprise me how quickly I fall under the spell of sex.
“Second,” I sputter. I’m distracted again. Pet’s hand slide down her sternum and hooks her fingers along the top of her latex shirt. I’m stuck for a moment and this feeling, being stuck annoys me. The annoyance comes out even more when I remember the second part of this. “And I cannot believe this has to fall into house rules because it's both common sense and the law, but do not - I repeat, DO NOT kidnap people.”
Pet looks rather shocked by this.
“That includes fans, my wife, my opponents, people you meet on the street, people who respond to a tweet you make in any form,” I explain, looking her dead in the eyes. “As a matter of fact, if I hear of a missing person I'm checking your room first.”
Pet laughs a little when she hears that but as soon as my face grows more serious, she starts nodding.
Carrying on, I say, “Speaking of the fans, I had no problem with you trying to get them to cheer for you. Do that, that's fine, I don't give a fuck. But keep all interactions with the general public to that level.”
The redhead keeps nodding. She can’t be listening but at least I know I’ve laid it all out so there can be no denying from anyone about this. The next rule, the most important one, should change things, hopefully.
“Now this, I really need you to be listening to,” I say and wait for her to show some kind of understanding or acknowledgement. “Don't interfere in my matches. Don’t cheat for me during my matches.”
“Oh,” Pet says softly.
“You almost got very hurt last time and with my match with Roberts coming up,” I say. “That match is going to be very… Well, someone is going to get hurt. It’s no DQ and someone is gonna get hurt. It should not be you. And you should know better than anyone that I can fight my battles and I know that you’re just trying to help… Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t need your help.”
Pet starts tugging on the front of her top, exposing more and more of her flesh.
“If you're not certain about something, just ask me first and…” I say and then watch the top go down even more. “What? What are you doing? Stop that.”
Pet puts on a playful smirk as she shakes her head and continues drawing her top down. I’m stuck again, speechless and enthralled by her naked breasts in front of me. She suddenly stands, puts her breasts away, and skips down the hallway.
“And that’s how you avoid punishment,” she mutters proudly, hoping I don’t hear hear but I do.
“Anya!” I shout, rattling the windows. Her real name always get a reaction and lets her know that she’s in trouble. It’s like when your parents use your full name and you know you’re in serious trouble. “Couch. Now.”
Pet fully turns around, hugging her arms under her bust to push her breasts up to promote further cleavage as she looks both worried yet sultry.
“But… But, but I'm a good girl,” she cries, turning on her best smile. I shake my head and point toward the couch.
“Now,” I sternly say. Pet sighs, groans, and drags her feet as she comes back to the couch. She sits down for the time out and hands me her phone. This one won’t be long, maybe ten minutes, but it’ll be long enough to set some things straight with Pet. Hell, to Pet it’ll feel like a seventy two hour hold. I continue to sit there, eating my ice cream, and purposefully turn on the most science-based show I can find. She pouts and sighs heavily but it is to no avail. My ability to ignore her is strong.
Allison appears behind me, leaning over the couch. “Hello,” she says. We share a quick kiss. “Ice cream?”
“Did you want some?” I ask.
“Yeah, I think I will have some,” she answers. I quickly stand and head into the kitchen to help Allison scoop out her ice cream. Once there, she pulls me into her and the idea of ice cream comes secondary to her own need for some loving touch, the things that married couples do. No greater stress release. Lots of deep kissing, hands on breasts, fingers tinkering with buttons. Next thing I know, we’re naked from the waist up, save for our bras.
Pet looks over, whimpering, wanting attention and wanting to watch or participate.
“Eyes front,” I shout at her, pointing to the television.
Pet lets out a huge, loud burst of air and turns around. Allison and I take out leave, moving into the bedroom to make things easier. Not that having sex in the kitchen isn’t fun and super hot, it’s just not what we want right now. Allie wants to have sex and take a nap. I know this routine. It’s a routine I love.
Love me this woman.