Under His Ownership - Love Under Lockdown

Certainly not nearly as much as I’ve wanted to do.

But I can answer that one at least. I wanted to do everything with him today. Right here in his house, where the fireplace is still lit from last night and where he could throw me on the table, rip my pointless-at-this-point dress apart and fuck me silly.

But my mind is in disarray. I need to make more money. I need to think.

‘Yeah it is. I just need to go home.’

He slides his strong arms across the project we’ve been working on all morning and takes his thin-rimmed glasses off. He licks his lower lips.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I have some personal issues that just came up that I need to work on. Is that okay?’

He mulls on it for a minute. A stray hair lingers atop the bridge of his nose. I can almost see his mind racing. Please accept. Please. Say yes. Don’t take it further than it has to go…

‘It’s alright. I’ll see you tomorrow if you’ll be feeling better, okay?’

You could have said no and locked me up, you know.

‘Thank you, Henry. I will let you know when I get home.’

The mask is hanging by the sanitation booth. It’s this little black and blue door frame that he had installed awhile back. Every time anyone walks in through the thing, it sprays a sweet-smelling brand of sanitizer from head to toe.

It makes me feel violated, no lie. But it was part of the deal we had agreed upon. And I do hate going back on my word. I put the damn blue thing on and blink for a few second when the sun hits my face.

I stop by the cherub statues for a minute to nod at them, and then I resume my trek. The walk down the tarmac is sullen and broken.

I see the car, but I also wish I could turn back and see him watch me through the window. Like in those Nicholas Sparks books. Romantic, and the like.

Nope. Not today. Today I am afraid I will find him watching. I would not know what to do with that.

The gate buzzes me through, and I wave to the chauffeur. He opens the door and I settle in. I keep my eyes on the road as we drive off.Chapter Two - HenryWell.

This sucks.

Julia’s body is one finely tuned machine, I’ll give her that. The sway of her hip as she walks away, a tug of the skirt behind the small of her back, and the innocent caress her arms give her light and supple breasts are all enough to make any man fall. I want to be that man.

For weeks I have wished for a moment of clarity, for some kind of sign to make a move on Julia. Today after I had breakfast made for her and sent the workers upstairs to work on the dusty rooms, or their weekly gossip, I asked her to sit with me and work.

We have been avoiding the whole social distancing phenomenon as I definitely know we are seeing no one else. What I mean by ‘seeing’ is having company over. I know I see no one. I hope she’s seeing no one.

She got so close that I could smell her hair. It smelled like it needed my hands to rub it.

I trudge from the window when the cab leaves with her inside of it and sit by my wooden chair beside the fireplace. We ground into each other today by accident.

She knew where her ass was. I knew where my groin was. We knew where we were, at the proverbial water cooler.

It felt good. Three seconds of contact was enough. It was funny how we went back to the table still thirsty and empty-handed. Well, it was funny, anyway, until her phone rang, and she walked away towards the kitchen.

My hand is down my waistline and it feels good to fondle my hard cock with her on my mind.

Julia Cast is one of those women who seem to appear out of a dream when you look at her. Her face is thin and narrow at the middle, like a model who moonlights as a preschool teacher. She smiles when you least expect her to, and she laughs only when the joke is perfect.

It has taken me three years to learn about her and who she is as a person, and after all that time I still feel as though she still holds back so much from me. I like that. Mystery engulfs the pleasure a man needs to feel fulfilled.

This room will not cut it.

I shut the folders and secure them in the safe above the fireplace. Marcy and Sarah, my father’s housekeepers, are busy somewhere on the grounds, sniffing around about some neighborhood gossip, I bet.

Comfortably I tread towards my special bedroom downstairs and lock myself in it. I strip down to my socks. I light the room up with red candles and exhale.