He shrugged. “I don’t need the money.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Are you secretly rich?” I asked him with a giggle as we stomped up the steps. I unlocked the front door, then punched in the code to deactivate the alarm.
“If it’s a secret, I can’t tell.”
I rolled my eyes and locked the front door. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me along with him.
“Man, I need to use the bathroom, or I’m gonna take a leak on your floor.”
“I can always give you a diaper.”
He gave me a shove, and I laughed, regaining my balance.
“Not my thing, man. Though you looked cute in it the last time.”
“Daddy loves me wearing them, which is great because I honestly sometimes can’t be bothered to do the adult thing and go to the bathroom.”
“You mean you actually use them? I thought they were just for show.”
I led him up the stairs to the spare bathroom Shaw used when I hogged the shower.
“Yes, Daddy likes when I pee in them.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that Daddy liked me peeing my pants overall. I bit my bottom lip. Would he want to pee on me again? I’d felt so owned when he did that.
“You’re strange, my friend.”
Usually, alarm bells would go off at those words, but he said them without the usual bite and disgust that normally followed them. And I was so grateful for him. He was a perfect friend. I would cherish the friendship.
“I’ll drop my stuff in my bedroom,” I said. “Meet you downstairs in five.”
Howard slipped into the bathroom, and I continued to my bedroom. I hadn’t made the bed. Oh, Daddy couldn’t find out. Shaw would be upset when he learned I went out today, especially after he’d told me to stay in. Leaving the bedroom messy would only make him madder. He could be stern, which I loved, but I dreaded his anger. I needed him in a good mood tonight, relaxed when I asked him to pee on me again. If he was uptight, he would tell me no.
Or maybe he would do it if I was naughty. The last time he’d done it was when he’d punished me.
No. I didn’t want to be bad to get the thing I wanted. Shaw needed to own his kinky side without a flimsy excuse to justify why he peed on me.
It was simple. He did it because he got off on it.
I removed the price tags and put the jeans in the overflowing laundry basket. Time to do a load. I straightened the bedroom to have everything looking immaculate again. Pleased, I grabbed the basket and made my way down the stairs.
“I’ll throw some clothes in the washer and be back in a jiffy,” I called to Howard.
“O-okay.”
The washroom was next to the door to the garage. I loaded the washer, set the basket on the rack next to it, and went to the kitchen, where I grabbed a juice box for me and a can of pop for him.
Howard sat on the couch with the TV on.
“Sorry, but I had to get a load in. I didn’t realize how much I've slacked off over the past week. I got you a pop. The day is so fucking hot. You can tell summer’s approaching.”
I frowned when he didn’t respond. “Something wrong?”
The can slipped out of my fingers and exploded on the carpet with a frothy hiss. A scream clawed its way into my throat, but it was trapped there, unable to come out. Howard’s unseeing eyes stared right at me, blood still spewing from the slice in his neck. His shirt and the couch were stained red.
“Howard,” I croaked his name, tears filling my eyes. “Oh no, Howard.”
He was my best bud. A good man. He didn’t deserve this.