Page 4 of Wrapped Up in You
Which is why I won’t be staying in for the time being. I opt for a pair of leggings, a tank top with a built-in bra, socks, and sneakers. I’m in the outfit faster than I care to admit, and it’s mainly because leaving poor Mackie alone for much longer is pulling at my heartstrings. Along with another man by the name of Crew.
Stupid heart.
Stupid hormones.
Stupid freaking week for my shark week to attack me.
The only upside is that my period only lasted a few days, and while the first day was heavier than normal, it didn’t last long.
Thankfully.
I haven’t seen the man all week, literally. It’s like he’s a figment of my imagination. And with each day that passes, I’m really thinking that whatever it is I felt when our bodies touched maybe wasn’t anything after all. Which completely and totally sucks, especially with Crew being the star of my nightly fantasy fest. You know, the one where I use my fingers, my toy, or the detachable shower head. An occurrence that has been happening every single night without fail, sometimes twice, and there’s been an occurrence in the morning when I wake up from a particularly erotic dream.
One of which occurred this morning. I was hot and sweaty, drenched between my clenched legs, thumb sliding along my clit, two fingers tunneling in and out of my wet center, all whilemoaning a man’s name I barely know. This is what life has come to—dreaming about someone whom I know not one single iota about, except for the fact that my uncle is partners with him. He’s melt-your-panties hot and has this aura about him that gives off a vibe that you just know he’s a take-charge kind of guy.
I shake my head of the thoughts before I veer off my path and take longer to get to Mackie in order to take the edge off. Still, I doubt very seriously it’d help. I walk out of my bedroom, leaving the mess where it lies, and make my way back through the house, only stopping at the front door to grab my phone out of my purse and the keys I have hanging on the hook.
The setting sun smacks me in the eyes, and I squint to help with the overpowering color trying to blind me. I make a beeline for the house across the street. The pathway leads to the sidewalk, which leads to the driveway, and a quick look both ways for the occasional passerby. Our street is cute and quaint with a cul-de-sac. I’m close enough to Talia’s front door that I can hear Mackie’s happy noises, the prancing I’m sure he’s doing on the other side of the door, the tapping of his paws, and the excited talking.
“I’m coming, Mackie boy,” I tell him, putting the key in the lock and whipping the door open once I sped walk to Talia’s house. She only left a couple of hours ago, helping cover another nurse who had to leave for an emergency. Still, Mackie is used to a routine, and it’s been changed up today.
“Oh, look at that sweet boy,” I say while opening the door, wedging myself inside, and closing the door behind me. Mackie sits on his bottom, his short nubby tail swishing along Talia’s wood floor, waiting for attention. I drop to my knees and give him all the pets a boy could ask for. We’ll do this for a few minutes before I’ll take Mackie out back, allow him to do his business before we leash up and hit the streets.
“You’re such a good boy. Let’s go outside and play fetch?” I scratch his ears. He gives me a big slobbery kiss on the cheek, lets out a yip in agreement, and we make moves to do one of his favorite things. Mackie leads the way, doing crazy circles since I’m taking entirely too long for his patience. The minute I’m at the door, he jumps and shows his goofy smile, teeth and all.
The chirping of my phone in my side pocket makes me pause, and I’d probably look at the device first if it weren’t for the short, glossy-furred with a warm tan to reddish brown color baby boy who won’t let me forget about him.
“There you go. Run free, chase lizards, sniff the air, and find your ball,” I tell Mackie, but he’s already taking off to the nearest tree, lifting his leg and marking his territory. “Typical boy,” I mutter and go about seeing who is sending me text after text.
Talia: Thank you again. I’m sorry for the short notice. I know he’ll love spending the night with his Aunt Serena, though. I promise a trip to the farmer’s market and lunch on me soon!
I shake my head at her nonsense. We have a standing girls' day out once a month to the market, where we both stock up on as much fresh produce as possible, she splurges on flowers, and I usually go for the fresh-baked breads, buying enough to freeze in order to last me a month. Lately, we’ve been passing in the wind with conflicting schedules, but she’s right, we’re due. Except she doesn’t need to pay for my lunch.
Me: You’re welcome, and yes to our Saturday ritual soon. Hold the lunch, though. Mackie brings me so much joy. Plus, he keeps me from rotting on the couch while either doom-scrolling or watching a serial killer documentary.
I snap a quick picture of Mackie. His front paws are on the trunk of the tree, his tail is going non-stop, and he’s looking up at what I’m sure is either a bird or a squirrel.
After backing out of that thread, I see a few more messages, along with some emails.
Mom: Do you have dinner plans? We’re going out to Twisted Oak, if you want to join us.
Me: I don’t, but it’s my night to help with Mackie. Plus, I’m exhausted, and the thought of putting on a pair of jeans and shoes that aren’t sneakers makes me want to curl into a ball and cry. Next time?
Mom: I remember those days. Epsom salt in a hot bath will be your friend. Next time. Love you!
Me: Good idea. Love you, too.
I put my phone away just as Mackie is coming to join me where I’ve taken a seat on the concrete patio. The warmth from the sun leeches into my skin through the fabric and feels amazing.
“Mackie, what did you do to your ball?” I ask him as he drops the slobbery mess with a few pieces ripped up down near myhand. A quick toss to the furthest part of the yard, and he’s off at the speed of light. Since he’s occupied, I go back to looking at my notifications.
Uncle Todd: Hey, Serena, I meant to tell you before you left today that you’ll be starting with Crew tomorrow. You should receive an email from the two of us, but don’t answer it tonight. You’re off the clock.
Me: Hey, I’ll look at it later. Thank you. I hope you don’t work too late, or your wife will go out to dinner without you.
Uncle Todd: You know more than you’re letting on. I'd better call your aunt now. Thanks for looking out, kiddo.
I’m half-tempted to check my email now, except I’ve got a dog to hang out with, and the way my thighs automatically clench to alleviate the ache that’s already building, it’d be better if I waited until I’m back at home, maybe in the shower, and have time by myself. And isn’t that something? The mere mention of Crew’s name, and I’m acting like a sex-starved wild woman.
