Page 39 of Mayhem and Minnie

Her brows pinch together.

“You’ll also need to get a medical exam done to make sure you don’t carry any disease.”

“W-what? Disease?” she stammers, dumbfounded.

I take a step back—just in case.

“You could have contracted anything from the streets.”

“But—”

“And there’s also the matter of your muddy past. Since we’ll be sharing a space—to an extent—I want to make sure you’re disease-free. That will put my mind more at ease, since even a small contact with your bodily fluids could prove fatal—though don’t get me wrong, I don’t plan to be anywhere near your body fluids. This is just a safety measure,” I explain.

“What kind of diseases do you think I have?” she asks, her voice going down an octave. Her hands are curled into fists by her sides, and her entire body is full of tension.

I shrug.

“Venereal diseases and any other infections that can be passed on.”

“Venereal? What do you mean?” She frowns, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

“What do you think it means?” I ask drily as I let my gaze roam over her body.

“Y-you…” She blinks rapidly. “Did you just imply that…” She swallows audibly. “How dare you?” she cries out before she comes charging at me, all five feet of her. She jabs her finger into my chest, backing me into the hallway.

Damn, this tiny creature has some strength.

“Don’t take it personally, pet,” I say, brushing her finger aside, then wiping my hand on my pants. “I will not hold it against you if you do, but then we’ll have to reassess this situation.”

“I don’t have any disease,” she continues, her tone that of outrage. Of course it is. I must have offended her feminine sensibilities. But it’s better to be blunt upfront than encounter issues later on.

“That will be for the doctor to determine.” I give her a fake smile.

“But… But…”

I’m already down to one hour before my scheduled time to sleep. I should wrap this up quickly and be on my way.

“Venereal diseases means that…” she stammers.

“They’re transmitted through sexual activities. Yes,” I add with a roll of my eyes.

“Is that what you meant by my murky past?” Her eyes flare up in shock.

I merely smile.

“Do you think I’m some kind of trollop? I already told you I’m not a prostitute!”

“And that’s what a prostitute might say,” I remind her calmly. “But prostitution is not the only way you could have acquired a disease. After all, you don’t have to always be paid for it,” I continue.

Why the hell did I even bring this up? Why am I even continuing arguing about it when I should find a way to extricate myself from this situation faster? Yet I’m oddly interested in this subject—in her and her past. Why? I cannot say. But I find myself more and more curious with each word we exchange.

She must have a past. Everyone does—well, I suppose I may be one of the odd exceptions. But the mere thought that some dirty-ass man would have put his slimy hands on her rattles me—to an uncomfortable degree.

“You…” Her body shakes with anger. “Damn you! I’ve never engaged in s-s-sexual activities with anyone else! So take your prejudices about me and stick them somewhere,” she yells before she does something unexpected. She stomps hard on my foot with her heel before she turns and leaves.

I stare at her in shock. I barely have time to process what she just said because this damn little heathen is leaving.

She’s fucking leaving.

---