Page 3 of The Interview
Once Krystal leaves, I step into the room and towards my wife.
“Do I look okay?” she asks, holding her arms out to her sides.
“Babe, you’re fucking perfect. You never look just okay.”
She smiles, and even now, after all these years, my gut pulls tight in a good way, and my dick gives a little twitch of appreciation.
“Don’t make me cry. I’ve just paid a hundred and fifty quid to look this good.”
“Complete and utter waste of money. You can’t improve on perfection, so why fucking bother trying?” I slide my hands around her hips and then inside the leggings she’s wearing to cup her bare arse. “Are you knickerless, Mrs King?” I ask as I give her cheeks a squeeze.
“I hate knickers with leggings. I don’t have the arse cheeks to stop them riding up my crack,” she explains.
“So eloquently put.” I shake my head and smirk.
“You fucking love it when I talk dirty.”
“I do, but arse crack and dropping the F bomb, not so much.”
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t love my arse crack?”
“I love what it’s hiding.” I give an eyebrow wiggle as I attempt to work my fingers towards my goal, but she steps back and out of reach. “You’re no fun,” I tell her.
“Daniel and the photographer will be here soon. You really want them walking in on us?”
“People would pay good money to see pictures of me doing you up the arse...”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Did I seriously just hear my dad say that to my mum?” I turn and watch my daughter pivot and motion to walk back out the door.
“Tallulah Rae King, watch your mouth,” I warn.
“Twenty-three now, Daddio. I’ll watch my mouth when you stop talking about doing my mother up the arse!”
I turn back to my wife, who looks up at me and shrugs while pressing her lips together in an attempt not to laugh. I shake my head and am about to speak when Lu shouts, “Are you two not getting too old for that kind of thing, anyway? Especially you, old man!”
“The day I get too old to do your mother in any orifice is the day you’re too old for me to buy you a new car every year.” That gets her attention, and I follow Georgia’s stare back over my shoulder as Lu walks back into the room.
“Fine. Want me to set you up on OnlyFans? I’ve heard people actually pay good money to watch geriatrics doing the deed.”
“Twenty-three or not, you’re not too old for a slap,” Georgia warns.
I watch Lu’s hands go to her hips and decide it’s time to step in.
“No one will be slapping anyone. Lu, watch your mouth. And you”—I look down at my wife—“have just spent one hundred and fifty quid getting your face done. You fuck up all you’ve got going on there, you won’t have time to fix it before the circus arrives.”
“You just said I didn’t need it anyway,” Georgia argues.
I let out a sigh so heavy my lips rattle together. I’ve dug myself a hole, and now I have to get out of it without pissing her off.
“You look beautiful, Mum. Chill. I was just pushing your buttons.”
At the sound of gravel crunching on the drive, Lu looks over her shoulder. “Daniel’s here,” she exclaims and heads out the door.
I stare down at my wife while she stares at my chest. Using my index finger, I lift her chin until her eyes meet mine.
“It’s not too late. I will go out there now and tell them all to fuck right off?—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “It’s not them, this…. Not the interview or the show. It’s not anything. I’m fine.”
