Mr. Flynn (Mr. Dominant)

Chapter 3: On Fire

Colossal fuck! You can guess what that means - too many "fucks." Let's say, perhaps, a big fuck. My eyes are extremely puffy, and it's seven o'clock in the morning. I need a quick shower - it's my damned birthday. Anna comes in with a big white tray filled with food, singing "Happy Birthday" very quietly.

"Anna, please." I smile, blinking sleepily at her. Why am I so drowsy this morning? She sets the tray in my lap, and I immediatley drink in the fantastic scent - scrambled eggs, sausage, fresh fruit, orange juice and hot tea. "Let me remind you that you have quite a few presents." Anna grins, turning on her heel heading towards the living room. My eyebrows raise over my hairline. More presents! Last time I checked, a two hundred-fifty dollared dress was more than enough!

"Anna," I whine in a croaky voice. I take a long sip of my sour orange juice. It's refreshing, soothing my fuzzy-feeling head. She comes back with two bags, beaming like a ray of sunshine. Crap - what could it be? Another two hundred dollared gift? Hopefuly not.

I flinch a little when she hands me the bags. Damn, damn. I glower at her, but she decides to fully ignore it. "Go on," she encourages. I open the first bag, coming upon a big box. What the hell? Okay, now I'm really curious in what this could be. "What is it?" I mumble. Anna gives me a don't-be-stupid stare.

"Open it and you'll find out." she simply says. And I do - and I smile instantly. It's a tea kettle! She knew all along that I was in need for a new one, but I wouldn't say so. "I was getting tired of your frowning at old Stacy." Stacy - my plain old silver kettle. "She needed to be replaced, so here you are. I hope you liked it."

"Like it?" I squeak. "I adore it, Anna. Thank you," I beam at the checkered kettle. It's so pretty - all wooden handle, old fashioned way. She knows me so well. I set the kettle aside, taking a deep breath and beginning to open the other bag. A strange tug is felt in my gut. Oh, no . . . why am I getting such a bad feeling about this?

My hands automatically rip open a strangely wrapped box. "I know I shouldn't be giving you this . . ." Anna whispers discreetly. I glance up at her, not looking at the gift. Suddenly, she snatches it from my hand. "Hey," I protest. What's her problem? She shakes her head. "Spencer told me I should buy you it."

"So let me see it," I say annoyed. It surely can't be that bad. Is she embarrassed of what is it? Well . . . what is it? "Er," she hesitates, squirming uncomfortablly. "Don't get upset." she orders huskily. I nod, feeling uncertain. She hands me the box, and my eyebrows immediatley snap together, forming one.

Inside are strange square-shaped packets. They're made of . . . foil? "What's this?" I ask her. She bursts out laughing, taking the box away. "I'll explain later," she says. "Go shower," she giggles. What's so funny? "Okay . . ." I mutter. I set my tray that's now filled with cold food, on our nightstand. Getting up, I run towards the bathroom. Forget it - she's probably laughing at you.

* * *

MY HAIR IS STILL wet by the time I get out of the apartment, now walking towards the university. After Anna's laughter, my appetite was lost. What could it have been? A circle shape was inside the foil packet. Maybe some kind of clothes grabbers? Plastic gloves? Plastic . . . Oh, shit.

I might as well dye my hair blonde.

They were condoms. I gasp, putting a hand over my mouth. "Anna!" I shout, although she's not even here. Too bad she goes in later than I do. It's barely ten o' clock, Desktop Publishing should start any damned minute. I rush into my classroom that is now crowded with students, browsing for an empty computer chair. Just my luck - there's none. How could there be none?

This has only happened twice to me - lack of responsibility! Now I have to skip . . . Rebelious Cynthia, mouths my subconscious. I feel like I've trespassed a private military when I walk out of the classroom, out of the school. This isn't me; I never miss any of my classes. Or I could just go to another lab . . .