Dirty Aristocrat

‘Chloe came for her butt plug,’ I said sweetly.

Ivan’s eyebrows flew upwards, and I swear, the beginning of an irritating smirk was starting to curve his mouth as he turned his eyes on her.

‘Oh good, you’re here. I was actually hoping to catch you,’ Chloe said, her voice quivering with relief.

‘Well, come into the living room then,’ he said, and turned his body sideways to make space for her. She practically ran out of the kitchen.

He looked at me. ‘I won’t be too long,’ he said, and followed her wriggling plug-hungry butt.

I curled my fists into balls of frustration. Ugh! What the hell was I doing living in his house and being forced to endure such humiliating scenes? It was intolerable. I was so glad I

was going off to the sun in a couple of days.

I switched on the oven and dialed it to 400 degrees. Next: melt the butter. I dumped the butter into a bowl and stuck it into the microwave. I found my fingers tapping the countertop as

I waited. I forced my fingers to stop. I looked at my watch. Three minutes had passed since they went into the living room and closed the door.

Is that not enough time to fit a plug into an itchy bitch?

Obviously not.

I took the bowl of melted butter out and thumped it on the island surface to cool. A little bit slopped out of the sides and puddled on the granite.

Next: DIY Buttermilk. I put three teaspoons of white vinegar into a cup and added whole milk into it. Unlike me, that was going to need five minutes to sour. I greased a round pan, then

stopped, and listened. There were no sounds at all coming from the living room. I glanced at my watch. Honestly.

I began measuring the dry ingredients. Indian head stone ground yellow cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt. Next job: whisking the cooled butter, brown sugar and honey. I whisked the

mixture so hard it began to froth. I poured in the buttermilk.

The bastard.

I whisked again. The door to the living room opened.

‘Bye, Tawny,’ the shameless slut called out in a fake-happy voice.

I didn’t answer.

Calm down, Tawny, I told myself as I mixed the dry and wet ingredients with a lot more violence than necessary.

Ivan arrived at the door. I glanced up indifferently. He seemed very indifferent too. I didn’t comment on the lipstick staining his cheek and squashed the urge to straighten his skewed

tie. I even managed to ignore the smell of her perfume.

He walked to the fridge and took out a beer.

‘What are you making?’

Oh! the cheek of the man. ‘Cornbread.’ My voice sounded vinegary.

I threw a sideways glance at him and the sorry ass actually looked amused. I felt like smacking his head against the fridge.

He sat on one of the stools on the other side of the island. ‘I’ve never tried cornbread,’ he said conversationally.

‘No, I wouldn’t have expected you to.’

‘Are you mad about something?’ he asked innocently, and I swear he was trying not to laugh.

‘No, whatever makes you think that?’

‘I don’t know. It could be the dark cloud over your head.’

I walked past him, picked up the greased pan, and on my way back to the bowl managed to accidentally purposely whack the side of his head with it. Hard. There was a satisfyingly hollow

metal-meeting-skull thud.

‘Ow,’ he exclaimed.

There! That sure wiped the smug look off his face. ‘Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?’ I purred.

He rubbed the side of his head and looked at me sheepishly. ‘What are you so furious about?’

‘Nothing.’ I flashed him my fakest smile.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Chloe is not my girlfriend, OK? I don’t do girlfriends. I’ve had longer relationships with the cartons of milk in my refrigerator.’

‘Oh, is that why she smelt so off,’ I fumed.

‘You don’t believe me?’ He seemed shocked.

‘Do you want your answer in one word or two?’

‘Go ahead be a devil. Use two,’ he taunted.

‘FUCK NO,’ I yelled.

Those incredible silver eyes fixed me in a deadly stare. ‘You go ahead and believe what you want. I didn’t mislead her and that’s the fucking truth. She knew exactly what she was getting

with me. She just came by to piss you off. For your information she won’t be coming around again, and if she does, please don’t let her in.’

I poured the batter into the tin and clunked it on the table surface to even it off, before I looked up at him. ‘Piss me off? I thought she came for her butt plug.’

‘Tawny,’ he sighed, his voice exasperated. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you, but I’ll do it this time and only this time. I’m a man and I have needs. Since you’re not planning to

take care of them there are going to be other women, probably lots, in my life. However, none of them will come around to wherever we are staying.’