Page 27 of Debts and Desires
12. HOURLY PAY, HOURLY LAY
September 2
Day Six
Seven Days176 Hours to Go
Carter was gone when I woke up the next morning, which gave me plenty of time to figure the math out. I made a cup of coffee and sat out on the porch swing. Mac was still up in my bed. He let out a huff when I informed him I was going downstairs before turning away from me.
After a satisfying sip—the first in days—I pulled out my pen and started figuring out hours.
I started with the original week, which was one-hundred and sixty-eight hours. Then I added the extra day Carter tacked on from my not eating, which brought the total to one-hundred and ninety-two total hours. I had been there for six days already, so I subtracted the allotted hours for that. We had sex twice a day, which equaled twelve total. Plus the cleaning, which would probably only count as an hour a day. Today would be my second day cleaning, so that was two more hours I could subtract. So far, I had made back twenty hours, still owing Carter…
“One-seventy-six,” I sighed, placing my pen in my notebookand shutting it. I needed to figure things out, things that would knock more off. I made a mental note to talk to him about what cleaning would count as then I’d reassess if it was any more than an hour. Doubtful, but maybe. I headed back in and began to clean.
The more I thought about everything, the worse I felt. Me acting out yesterday was a dick move. Not saying that he wasn’t also being a dick, but my outburst certainly didn’t help matters. I should’ve been thankful he didn’t tack more on. I thought back to him spanking me and my cheeks flushed. It had been the single hottest thing any man had ever done to me, not that I’d been with many. I was lost in cleaning when my stomach growled. I looked at the clock on the nightstand of the guest room I was working in. It was almost one and Carter wasn’t back.
My mind went straight to,he’s mad at me and now I’m losing an hour off of today because of it.I mentally kicked myself. The agreement we had really wasn’t all that bad. At least we kind of coexisted somewhat. Now, I was fearful it was going to feel awkward.
I made myself a quick bite to eat, wondering if maybe he was testing me with the food thing again. I wasn’t about to let him win with that again.
What if you made dinner? It would make up the missing hour.
I paused mid-bite and smiled. That smile quickly faded when I realized I didn’t know much, if anything, about cooking. I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, never wanting for anything. My parents had chefs and nannies for my siblings and me.
I remembered the computer downstairs. Once I was finished with lunch, I grabbed my notebook and headed down. Mac followed, jumping on the recliner as I sat at the desk. I noticed right away that the lube and tissues had been put away and the trashcan was emptied. I stifled a laugh as I opened the computer. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked and I was able to get on the internet. I wrote down a simple recipe for something called “fuck mechicken” and mashed potatoes, knowing he had most, if not all, the ingredients for it.
Curiosity got the best of me once I was done and I looked through Carter’s search history, unsurprisingly finding it full of porn. There was a theme, I noticed, of total power exchange and free use. I realized that me offering the deal to him played right into his fantasies. And, for whatever reason, it made me hot.
I wonder if I could knock a bunch of hours off if…
Ignoring the wildly vulgar thoughts now running rampant, I closed out of everything and headed back upstairs. I finished cleaning the guest room for another hour or so before prepping dinner. I wanted to give myself enough time to read it all over and hopefully not burn anything.
I was finishing up the last bit when I heard the front door. My shoulders relaxed in temporary relief. Mac ran to greet Carter at the door and my eyes couldn’t help but follow.
“Hey, boy,” Carter said, rubbing Mac’s head before taking off his hat. He looked up, catching me watching him from the kitchen. His eyes looked me over before he walked over. “What’re you making?”
“Fuck me chicken,” I responded, feeling my face heat as I looked down at my work again. “Or I’m trying to. I’m not the best cook, but I tried. Nothing’s burnt yet, so that’s a good sign, I guess,” I laughed, looking at him over my shoulder. “And the sample I had seemed alright.”
“Smells good.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to show how nervous I was. I turned back to the stove.
“You know I would’ve cooked when I got here.”
“I know. This is kind of an apology. Not necessarily for what I said, but for how I acted yesterday. I don’t want you to be mad at me, or call off the deal.”
He snorted. “I ain’t callin’ shit off. You should know that by now.”
“No, I know. I just…” I trailed, not sure what to say. “It’s almost done so you can shower if you want while I finish this up,” I offered. “I mean, unless you have a ritual of eating, then showering or something.”
“No?”
“Good. Then go away so I can finish this,” I said, shooing him away. He let out a soft laugh.
“Yes, ma’am.” I could’ve swooned at hearing that if I wasn’t shaking. I was so nervous telling him why I was cooking, afraid he would kick me out then. I heard the creak of the floorboards as he climbed the stairs and I let out a sigh.
After a few more minutes, I turned off the stovetops and put the lids on both the chicken pan and the pot of mashed potatoes. I grabbed silverware and two plates. I placed the food on the table before heading to the fridge to grab him a beer and me a soda. Then I sat and waited.
