Page 38 of Saving Mr. Bell

“Laundry.”

Rudolf rolled his eyes. “Exciting. Are you going to sit and watch it going round? Or can I persuade you away from it?”

After contemplating decorating the tree and, yet again, not mustering up the enthusiasm, we went for a walk in the afternoon. Rudolf linked our arms to press us together—no complaints from me—and we headed in the same direction he’d gone during his doomed escape attempt.

“We should ask each other questions,” he announced about ten minutes into the trek.

“What sort of questions?”

“General knowledge.” He gave me a little shove. “Questions about each other, Dumbo. So we can get to know each other better.”

Why? If you’re just going to leave, what’s the point?I didn’t verbalize my instinctive reaction to his suggestion. Besides, there were things about Rudolf I was curious about. Although, it was probably best not to launch right into the type of questions I wanted to ask. “Favorite color?”

Rudolf’s slight eyebrow raise questioned whether that was the best I could come up with. “Black.”

I gave him a scathing look. “You can’t have black as your favorite color.”

“I can. And I have. So there.”

“Black’s not even a color. It’s an absence of light.”

Rudolf let out a frustrated breath. “Alright, Mr. Physics. Chill out. No point in getting your knickers in a twist. Not when I have to share them. You asked, and I answered. I can’t help it if you don’t like what I have to say. Lord, help me if you’re going to be like this about every answer I give.”

“I was just pointing out…” I stopped as Rudolf did a side-to-side head bob worthy of any recalcitrant teenager. “You’re such a child.” The severity of my tone was ruined by the laugh I couldn’t hold back.

He flashed a grin at me. “Must be that six years you have on me.”

“Must be.” I dragged him in a different direction, something catching my eye through the trees. “Fine. So… black. Mine is—”

“I’m not wasting my question on something as mundane as your favorite color.”

“So, what do you want to know?”

“Favorite sexual position?”

“Why?”

“So we can do it when we get back to the cabin.”

“Maybe we’ve already done it.”

“We’ve only done two. Missionary and me straddling you on the sofa this morning.” He pursed his lips. “Why don’t you want to tell me?” He let go of my arm to round on me, his eyes wide. “Are you a kinky fuck, Arlo? Is that it? You can tell me, you know. I’ll only let three news outlets know and mention it next time I’m on Michael Carter’s chat show. Apart from that…” He drew a gloved finger and thumb across his lips in a parody of pulling a zipper across.

“It’s a treehouse,” I said, staring up at the dark shape above our heads now we’d reached it. “I wonder how long this has been here and who built it?”

“Yeah, it’s a treehouse. Stop changing the subject.”

“Doggie,” I said, glad we were outside and that my cheeks were probably already red from the cold.

“Really?” My answer seemed to both please and surprise Rudolf. “Want to do me doggie style, Arlo?”

I tested the first rung of the ladder propped up against the treehouse to see if it would take my weight. “Very much so.”

“Then your wish is my command.”

Keen to explore the treehouse and glad of something else to think about that wasn’t Rudolf on his hands and knees, back arched to take my cock, I started to climb the ladder. I got to the fourth rung before one snapped, Rudolf grabbing hold of my ankle to steady me. “Be careful.”

“Yes, Mother.”

---