Page 10 of Such A Good Girl

I hauled open the door in time to see Jerry’s car pulling out of the garage and reversing onto the street. I held the note, and he winked before driving off.

He winked.

I looked at the letter, and back at my husband's quickly disappearing car. Excitement had me giddy by the time I’d shut the door behind me. Finally. Jerry hadfinallyreacted to something.

God, I had been such an idiot. Of course, he needed time to come around to something so out of character for us. The collar had simply shocked him. After ruminating on it, the desire must have grown. Imagining him in his games room, touching himself to the memory of me on my knees, had me wet before I could even put the note into the hall dresser.

My face broke into a grin, and I skipped up the stairs to have a shower. I was going to blow Jerry’s fucking socks off. I’d shave myself until I was slippery smooth and pamper every inch. By three o’clock I’d present him with the perfect wife, willing and eager. If he liked it, maybe we were on the precipice of change.

I’d be a perfect pet.

The word had given me a thrill, however demeaning.

Pets were beloved, pampered companions.

I only hoped that he fucked me like a toy rather than a pet. The years of vanilla sex had perhaps never been enough for either of us. A new dynamic might be exactly what the doctor ordered.

The bathroom mirror steamed as the shower heated, and I drew my finger through the condensation until the word PET stared at me, my face visible in the stark letters.

My new title.

Pet.

EIGHT

BOBBY

The house sat neatly in front of a manicured lawn. Picture perfect. Blue skies reflected off of each clean pane. For the tenth time, I pulled the printed sheet of paper from my pocket, smoothing out the crumpled edges and checking her address once more.

It was definitely the house.

Now to glimpse the sweet redhead in person.

A man headed into the garage, leaving the door open. His green flecked shirt sat tucked into his work pants, the buttons over his midriff barely holding together. Too much beer, or too little movement. Likely both.

Fucking his pretty wife would clear the gut if he did it the way she seemed to need it.

Waiting until he left was the sensible option, but his nearness added a primal urge to my spying on his wife.

I sidled up to the house and glanced in through a window. There she was, a tumble of red curls tipped over the edge of the sofa. Her fingers pressed into her face.

The car idled in the garage, a stream of fumes evaporating into the morning air. I slipped to the front door and opened it, placing the note I’d written on the floor inside. As quietly aspossible, I shut the door again and moved around to the rear of the building. She opened the note as I glanced through the rear kitchen window.

Confusion knitted her brows as she scanned the text, turning the paper over and looking at the wordpetI’d scrolled on the front. Ashley turned and opened the door, glancing out toward the garage.

A smile danced on her lips.

Perfect.

My little pet thought her husband was finally fulfilling his duties.

She’d learn soon enough that although she was going to be highly sated by the end of the day, it would have nothing to do with the waste of space who neglected her needs.

After closing the door, she leant against it and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. The sparkle that filled her eyes filled me with satisfaction, my dick hardening at finally seeing her in the flesh. I’d spent days ruminating over my insane plan. Talking myself down.

But seeing her there solidified my notions.

She was perfection made real. Her pyjama bottoms hugged rounded hips, her stomach soft and leading to full breasts. The strappy top she wore displayed hardening nipples, and I wanted to say fuck the plan. To rip the rear door from its hinges and sink my teeth into her skin. To taste her. Would she taste as sweet as she looked?

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