Page 2 of Caution Tape

Cora

It all started when our dog died. Everyone in my family was crying after we found him dead in the living room, saturated in his own filth. His eyes were still open, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. Even my father, who had always been a man who kept his feelings to himself, was sobbing from the loss of his best friend.

I, on the other hand, didn’t shed a single tear.

I was numb. Confused. Although my body was there physically, I was an empty shell inside, wondering why I was the only one who felt…annoyed.

All things die eventually. Death is normal, and it cannot be escaped. We’re taught this growing up by the adults we’re supposed to trust. Yet, there I was, watching my family grieve while I continued to eat my breakfast at the kitchen table.

And that’s when I knew, deep down, that I would never be like them.

“You like that?” he grunts, shifting his full body weight onto me, and nearly crushing me in the process. His red face is beaded with sweat. It drips onto my forehead.

“Yeah,” I lie, briefly holding up my hands, trying to figure out what to do with them. Where to rest them. Where to touch him.

I sigh.

He sinks into me slowly, fisting my hair as I resume my role of playing a dead fish, frozen in place. Fortunately, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, giving me no reason to force an expression of pleasure.

Once he finishes on my lower stomach, he climbs off the bed in a hurry to collect his clothes from the messy floor. I remain still, lying on my back, waiting for him to find me something to clean up his mess with. He makes no move to do so, instead choosing to retrieve his discarded clothing from the floor.

“Had fun,” he mutters, stepping into his pants.

I pause, brow furrowed for a moment as I stare at the wall in front of me. What’s his name again?

“Glad one of us did,” I mumble dryly, avoiding his gaze as I finally rush to my feet, clearly irritated.

“Can I see you again?”

“Nope,” I shoot back, wiping his cum off of me with a dirty sock. “Now get out.”

“Whatever,” he snorts under his breath. “You look nothing like your profile picture anyway,” he quickly adds in, proceeding to exit my room and slam the door behind him as if for emphasis to his point.

Peter. That’s it.

No… Parker.

Peter Parker? Shit, that can’t be right. Whatever.

With that, I climb back into bed unsatisfied and turn off the light, slipping my hand between my legs to finish the job.

“Alrighty. Your total comes to twenty-three dollars and sixteen cents,” I casually inform, placing her items into a plastic bag.

“I gave you a coupon,” the middle-aged customer snarls. “That should give me an additional twenty-five percent off.”

I blink at her.

She grimaces, her eyes turning into small slits. There’s a moment of silence between us.

“Well?” she questions rudely. I swallow hard, clenching my jaw tight.

She eyes the nametag pinned to my work shirt. “Cora,“ she sneers.

“That will be twenty-three dollars and sixteen cents,” I repeat.

“I gave you a coupon.”

“This total is with your twenty-five percent off,“ I politely explain.

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