Page 16 of Room Service
“That’s right, now open those legs and show me what you’re hiding from daddy.”
Daddy?
Open those legs?
The shock running through me leaves me standing on the spot, half scared and half hopeful that he’s having an affair and I can end this shitty marriage instead of running away like a lost lamb.
“Stroke it… that’s right… up and down… tell me how good that is…” And then I hear him grunt, and I feel the bile rising in my throat.
I walk to the lounge door and peer around, to see Derrick on the sofa, his cock in his hand as he strokes it up and down slowly, his eyes glued to the laptop, and some drool dripping from his mouth. And on the screen is a woman, spread before him, her fingers brushing her pussy as she lies back for him.
“Oh my fucking god,” I say out loud, and Derrick immediately lets out a yelp and sits up as quickly as he can, because he’s got a stomach that’s growing by the day getting in the way.
“Shit, Elise,” he says as he reaches over and shuts the laptop screen with a thud. “It’s not—”
“What it looks like?” I interrupt. “Because you had your dick out whilst watching some woman play with herself on the damn laptop, Derrick.” I look down at the offending penis and make a face. “Fucking put it away, for Christ’s sake.”
He tucks his todger back into his jogging bottoms and huffs as he pushes himself off the sofa to stand.
“I didn’t mean for you to walk in,” he says sheepishly.
“Really?” The sarcasm is very apparent in my voice. “Is this what you do when I’m not here? Pay for services like that?” I point to the laptop, disgusted.
“You’re home earlier than normal,” is his feeble response.
“Oh, I am sorry, I’ll just go so you can finish,” I say, and I turn on my heel and go back to the front door.
“Where are you going?” Derrick asks as I put my shoes back on.
“Away from you,” I spit.
“But you can’t just go, what about my dinner?”
I finish putting my shoes on and stare at the utterly selfish bastard as he looks at me with shock and surprise.
His fucking dinner?
Christ, I am the biggest moron to ever walk the face of the earth.
“It’s over, Derrick,” I tell him, feeling a weight lift from my chest as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“Pfft. You can’t leave me.”
“I can, and I am. I can’t stay in this sham of a marriage any longer.”
“Sham? I fucking looked after you, cared for you, gave you a home,” he sneers.
And with that, the inferno inside of me blows. “Oh really? And where was the part where you cared for me? Hmm? Where the fuck have you been for the last couple of years whilst I’ve worked as a goddamn maid to make ends meet? I gave up my dreams when I married you. I gave up my life because my parents made me feel like I had to, and what for? For this shitty existence where I hate coming home to you and where I feel like I’m failing at every turn? An existence where I’m twenty-five years old with no future in sight if I stay here with you? An existence where you jack off to some slut on a laptop while I clean bathrooms and cater to rich people who look at me as if I’m some kind of speck on their shoe?
“I’m fucking done, Derrick. I don’t love you, and let’s be honest, you’ve never really loved me, not as a husband should love a wife. This was a mistake from the word go.”
My chest is heaving as I release everything that has been pent up inside of me for years. It feels fucking good to unleash it.
“It was a good deal at the time that went bad,” he states simply, and those words should hurt, but they don’t. They should rip me from the inside out, but they just make me feel freer.
“Never have you spoken a truer word,” I say as I turn and open the front door.
“You’ll be nothing without me,” he shouts as my feet land on the first step.
