They say I can choose what we watch and it takes me an age, but they don’t seem impatient. I sit between them on the big white sofa Jack spanked me on last night, and I try to stop thinking about it but I can’t. Michael’s still wearing his new tie. I like that he is. I like it a lot.
Jack slumps back easily, his legs spread and his knee touching mine. It burns a nice burn.
So did my ass last night.
I try not to fidget as I scroll up and down the listings, but my jeans are stiff and need a wash and my bra is itchy where my backpack rubbed my shoulders earlier.
“Ants in your fucking pants,” Jack laughs as I shift position for the millionth time, and I grumble about everything, about all of it, finally losing my shit as I admit that I’ve no clean clothes and I don’t know how to work his shitty washing machine.
And then I fold my arms and say I quit film night after all. Everything can go fuck itself.
It’s Michael who squeezes my arm and tells me to stop being so melodramatic.
I tell him I’m not, and hope he spanks me for it all the same.
My cheeks burn as I realise that’s what I want now.
I want them to pull my jeans down and put me over their knee. I want to feel their hands on me and their swollen dicks against my belly.
“Get your clothes,” Jack says. “I’ll show you how to work the machine.”
“But then I’ll have nothing to wear,” I grumble, still acting up even though there’s no need and I know it full well.
“I’ll find you something,” he says. “Your clothes will be clean and dry before you know it. You should have said something by now.”
Yes, I should have. But I hate looking like a stupid idiot who can’t take care of herself.
It’s been over a week and the machine is one of those fancy ones with a million bastard settings that make no sense whatsoever.
Jack beckons me upstairs and I follow. I get tingles as I walk into his room after him, remembering how nice it felt to be in his arms this morning.
He opens a drawer from the chest and pulls out a baggy white t-shirt which makes me smile.
“Planning on dumping water on me?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Not unless you ask for it. Be good and you won’t get hosed.”
He turns his back to me as I change, and I wish he hadn’t. I wish he was looking at me.
I pull down my jeans and tug off my cami, unclipping my bra and dumping that down with them. I’ve only got one bra but I don’t want to say anything, so I have to go naked under his t-shirt. Luckily it’s so big on me that I don’t think it’s obvious. I’m quite possibly wrong on that.
I keep on my knickers but nothing else, and the shirt comes halfway down my thighs, so that’s no big deal.
I gather up my dirty clothes and the others from my room, embarrassed at how small the pile is.
“Is that it?” Jack asks and I nod.
“Like I said, can’t wear them all at once.”
“Next week’s wages are being spent on you,” he tells me and I get tickles right through me. Next week’s.
Surely not. Surely he won’t pay me every week?
At least I’ll be able to give Eli back that fiver and he can fuck off and leave me alone for good.
I follow Jack downstairs and he opens the washing machine for me. I throw the clothes inside without bothering to separate them, but he pulls out the whites and leaves them in their own pile. I squeeze my thighs together at the sight of my dirty knickers in his hands, and I’m damp already without jeans on. I can feel it.
He shows me the controls and I make a mental note of them. It’s really not as hard as the settings make it look.
“Thanks,” I say and he grins.
“My clothes suit you.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t think I’ll be going outside like this somehow.”
“No,” he says. “You fucking won’t.” He points back through to the living room. “Movie night. No getting out of it.”
I mock groan as I head on back through, and Michael startles as I enter, as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
I wonder if he’s been thinking about last night, just like I was. I wonder if it makes him feel guilty.
Or horny.
I hope it makes him feel horny.
I slump back down between them and pick up the remote control. All the films look much of a muchness to me. Action, thriller, horror, yada yada.
And that’s when I see some dirty thriller thing with Keanu Reeves in it. I read the synopsis and put on the trailer, and it looks really dirty.
“This one,” I say. “I want to watch this one.”
I’m suddenly glad I dicked about for so long choosing, because it’s getting dark outside and Jack has to put the little lamp on. He gets us a fresh beer before we settle down and heats up the popcorn in the microwave, even though I don’t like popcorn anyway.