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Nanami Kento is weird.
I turn my shoulders from the dinner table to see he was typing on a computer, yet unplugged every other electrical device.
He sat by the couch, his usual bedroom and never looked back at me.
"It's impolite to stare." He spoke breaking the silence and forcing me to swiftly turn back to my plate of dimsum. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I slumped down into my seat.
Like a fucking child.
What the hell am I even doing here?
Why doesn't he want to fuck me?
A whole hour passes before he glances back at me still sitting and unwilling to eat. It's not that I don't want it,
I'm just too preoccupied,
I'm still brewing about this annoying rejection.
Maybe I should curl my hair,
Maybe my makeup is too heavy,
Maybe it's not heavy enough?
Maybe he doesn't like my shape?
Maybe I didn't speak with elegance?
He has a fucking kink,
What is it?!
Sex is natural part of human interaction.
So why?!
Won't,
He
Just
Fuck
Me?!
"Are you done?" His voice bombed making me jolt from my thoughts.
Why does it even matter if this man shoves his cock down my throat? He's paying me right? That's all that matters.
Just let it go.
"I wasn't aware I had a time limit" I spoke back and the soft nature of my voice does vibrate through his ear canal.
Let it go.
"You don't. But you've also been sitting there for an hour now." He enlightened me. "If you like cold dimsum I could have just left it out an hour before."
He acts like I have a choice, or a preference for that matter...Nanami paid for me; he doesn't have to pretend to court me or anything.
I'm preprogrammed to grovel at his feet.
"When you are done eating, or just..." he started rolling his fingers in the air ever so effortlessly "ready for bed, I mean, I've left you a spare change of clothes, it's nothing fancy just something I picked up."
I perked my ears up at this, thinking maybe he was into role play.
That's it, that's his little fetish. Maybe he wants me dressed as a maid. Or a slave, or a lobster, I don't fucking know.
