Page 15 of Such A Good Girl

Seeking him out would be wrong.

But I wouldn’t close the door if he did.

‘Mom’s asked me to go round to hers this weekend. She needs me to have a look at her drainage system as something’s backing it up.’ Jerry didn’t even look at me as he spoke, his words sticking to the half chewed food in his mouth.

Going to his mother’s house was the last way I wanted to spend my weekend.

‘I was going to get a start on painting the pantry this weekend…’ I said, willing to find any excuse to avoid being stuck under her constant jibes.

‘Oh, she didn’t invite you. Said she wants some time with just her and me.’ Jerry took a sloppy mouthful of milk, leaving a white, drippy moustache.

Relief swept through me, my shoulders dropping. Yet my stomach knotted. I didn’t want to go, but I didn’t want to be excluded, either.

Still, it was better than being stuck with her for two days. I’d take my rejection and live with it, adding it to the pile that stood behind me, shadowing my day-to-day life.

What if he’s watching me? The man who called me pet. I’d be alone.

My thighs clenched beneath the table, and I couldn’t help but grin. The slice of danger was the closest thing I’d had to excitement since his visit.

‘No problem, have a great time with your mother.’

If all else failed, I’d put back on my collar and touch myself in front of the mirror looking at the picture of those big arms and imagine being wrapped in them.

Sweet cherry pieblasted through the house as I danced with the vacuum. Spending my free morning cleaning may have seemed odd to an outside observer, but boogying through the house in a T-shirt and underpants with a glass of wine in one hand and the vacuum in the other was only the start to my day.

A clean house meant I could relax all afternoon with no-one coming to mess it up. I could curl up in a blanket cocoon on the sofa with my bottle of wine and some takeout and binge watch old early noughties sitcoms without Jerry’s opinions.

I could fetch my collar and lay out on the couch touching myself while imagining unspeakable things about my leather working man.

Freedom.

Even if only for a day or two.

By the time I’d finished cleaning, a knock at the door set my heart thumping against my ribcage. Panting, I ran to grab a pair of tracksuit bottoms, tearing them on before catching myself in the mirror. My curls were wild around my sweat forehead, frizzing up, my cheeks flushed from exertion.

I had red wine drips on my oversized white t-shirt.

A fucking mess.

Running to the door, a more persistent knocking met me. I peeked through the side window, expectation coiling in my stomach.

A courier stood there, impatience clear in every movement. He pulled out a pad and started writing a missed package slip.

Tearing open the door, I apologised for the delay and took the package he held out. The box was identical to the one which had held my leather goods the previous week. A tremble shook my fingers as I closed the door, double locking it in place.

He hadn’t come for me, but undoubtedly the package was from him.

Pouring another glass of wine, I downed it to steady the nerves tumbling around my stomach. The tape creaked as I tore it from the box, revealing the perfectly wrapped black paper within.

A note sat folded on the top, the word PET penned on the outside of the lined paper.

I unfurled the paper and read the words within.

Ashley,

I’m pleased to see you’ve not gone and told anyone about my visit. Such a good girl. Good girls get rewards.

You’re an untrained pet. And I need to see that you are willing. Willingness is the number one greatest asset.

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