BLACKmail

23

I take it we're officially not together anymore, then?

I keep on reading the last text I sent to my girlfriend last night. It's been a good twenty hours but she hasn't replied me, only the Read sign is there. This sucks.

This, and my lack of release.

It's been four days since Jul's back from the vacation that's why I sent this text because I figured she's back to real life now, why don't we just clarify what's going on between us since I'm not in her social media posts anymore.

I give it twenty hours because it was midnight when I sent that text message, obviously she's already in bed. Sleeping, fucking, whichever it is she must be busy so I thought she'd reply me in the morning.

But of course she won't reply me in the morning; she's working. So she must be busy at the office. It's okay, maybe she'll reply once she gets off work.

Twenty hours.

Nope. Nothing. Just like she has been quiet since the past fifteen days ago.

"What are we having today?" As usual, his arms are wrapped around my waist while I stand in front of the kitchen counter. I'm currently slicing the chicken breast for a stir fry.

"Chicken soup? Chicken noodles? Pop corn chicken? Teriyaki chicken? Hmm?" His warm breath lands on my ear, tickling me, as his grip gets tighter.

"I'm sorry I'm home late. Promise I'll cook dinner next week. The entire next week." Even without looking I know he's smiling behind me. Just like I know he must have felt bad about coming home late since three days ago. And will be for the rest of the week, something to do with work.

"Kung Pao chicken?" His lips are now stuck on the nape of my neck, as if he's a mosquito.

"Hmm." I answer in a low hum then turn around to get a pan.

"Really?" He grins while reversing himself to give way for me to get to the kitchen drawer for the pan.

"Thank you Sweetheart," he tells me in such cheerful mood that my mood lightens from the situation I'm having with my girlfriend. Who hasn't replied me.

I know his favorite Chinese food is Kung Pao chicken, eaten with a bowl of white rice, and beer. I purposely choose to cook this dish because I need to forget Juliette. I need to stop thinking about our relationship, of what has come to it. I need my rapist to release me from this overthinking.

Yes, I'm making a subtle attempt for him to break his promise.

"I'm gonna take a shower first then we'll eat, is that okay?"

"We're out of beer." I let him know while I brown the onion. Again, I purposely didn't buy the beer eventhough I know we don't have any, eventhough I was at the supermarket an hour ago.

I want him to go out while I'm cooking so when he's home the food is ready, served hot on the table which after the meal, we'll then take a bath together, instead of him taking a shower by himself as he just mentioned.

Anything, anything to increase my chance to get him to break his promise.

"Alright, I'll buy some at the store. Be right back!"

***

I don't know how many times I've cooked Kung Pao chicken these three weeks but I'm certain we can call that dish as one of our staple dinner.

I'm also unsure of how frustrated I've been all these while; Gabriel Black is a man of his word. At this point of desperation, I even participate willingly every time we have sex.

We do have sex but he's the only one getting off. He's adamant about not giving me even one tiny orgasm, but at the same time he warns not to do any attempt in getting one by myself or he'd know.

"I don't know how to thank you," the expression on his face shows how grateful he is of my entire setting for today.

Breakfast in bed, a lunch date at his favorite place, and cooked him the infamous Kung Pao chicken for dinner. I swear I was this close to Kung Fu his smug face when he denied my orgasm again this morning when we had morning sex.

"Eat me then."