Page 43 of Morsel

“I do,” I say. “My father was a pretty terrible person. He did pretty terrible things.”

“Plus, he was an awful father.”

“I like that this is what you’re focused on.”

“He was. He didn’t deserve you.”

“That’s very kind of you, pet.”

“Why are you always calling me that?” Dolly asks.

This time, I don’t answer her. Instead, I focus on rubbing my hands over her skin, on relieving the tension she’s been carrying.

“Tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Suddenly, I can’t think of a single thing about myself,” she says. I laugh.

“Isn’t that how it always is?”

“Yeah. In college, I was always terrible at telling interesting facts about myself,” she says. “One of my friends was always super good at it. She told me her secret.”

“What was it?”

“Just lie.”

I pause my rubbing.

“What?”

“I lie,” she says again.

“You lie about your interesting fact?”

Dolly rolls over so she’s facing me.

“Oh, yes,” she says.

“What the fuck, Dolly?”

She laughs. The sound goes straight to my dick. Shit. I’m supposed to be the gentleman here.

“It’s a great idea,” she says. “Want to play?”

“No.”

“We can lie to each other.”

“I don’t want to lie to you, Dolly.”

“Then tell me why I’m still here, Oscar.”

“You’re here because I’m protecting you from your dickhead of a brother.”

“He’s not here. He hasn’t reached out. I’m safe. I’m fine.”

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