Boss of Me

It makes me laugh. “You’re so sensitive this morning.”

“Your whiskers tickle.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “Sorry.”

“No!” She threads her fingers in mine. “I like it.”

She starts to move away, and I reach down between us to dispose of the condom. I hop out of bed and only take a moment to clean up and return. She’s lying on her side with the sheet draped across her breasts watching me.

A sly smile is on her lips. “Do we have any plans for today outside of bed?”

“We do. Start

ing with your first request from last night.” Her soft brow furrows, and I take her hand. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to get pancakes.”

The Fancy Chicken Café is a red and white striped building filled with taxidermied and animatronic chickens. It even has oversized plaster hens and roosters on the roof outside.

“It says more than one hundred chickens sing… I didn’t know chickens sang.” Raquel looks up at me with wide eyes, and I only shake my head, holding the door.

“You wanted pancakes.”

“There are twenty different pancake restaurants on this street alone.”

“The one my family took me to closed.”

Raquel starts to speak, but a hostess dressed in a red and white-checkered uniform and a white bonnet interrupt us.

“And a Cockadoodley-do-day to you! Welcome to the Fancy Chicken! Table for two?”

We both stare at the friendly girl for a beat.

Raquel is the first one to find her voice. “Yes! Sorry. Table for two.”

“And-a right this way!” The girl does a little swoosh of her fluffy skirt and leads us to a booth by the window covered in red and white checked tablecloth. “Your server will be right with you. Can I get you some drinks?”

“Coffee,” we both say at once.

She nods and disappears, and Raquel’s eyes are wide. “I’m going to need a lot of coffee for this place.”

“What are you in the mood for? Sweet or savory?”

A busboy places mugs in front of us and quickly fills them with coffee.

“Pancakes can be savory?” Raquel dumps a small carton of half and half into her mug and gives it a stir before taking a sip. “That’s good.” She leans back against the seat.

“The Kearny stack has bacon and eggs. They have chicken taco pancakes…” Her nose wrinkles. “Or pigs in a blanket.”

“What are my sweet options?” She takes another sip of coffee.

“Funfetti, cinnamon roll, or fruit.” Frowning, I read the two outliers. “I’m not sure what to make of pecan or whole wheat.”

“Pecan is a rich nut. I’ll have cinnamon roll.”

“I’ll have oatmeal.”

Her coffee cup lowers with a little bang. “You will not!”

Leaning close, I speak quietly across the table. “If you eat all those cinnamon-roll pancakes, you’ll vomit, and I don’t want you being sick when I want to fuck you again.”