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Here is chapter three. I've decided to stick with Nonconsent / Reluctance. It seems the most appropriate of the several categories this story might fit into.
The feedback I've been getting, especially the private feedback, has been very helpful and I really appreciate it. Letting me know what you like about it is great. The notes about things you think I could have done better, or missteps I might have made along the way are just as helpful. I also appreciate the plot suggestions I've received. I haven't yet decided whether or not to take any of those suggestions or where I want to take the story but I like getting them so keep them coming.
When I started this story I wasn't sure how I felt about the conversational first person tone of narration, but I think it's working out nicely. I'm considered writing a chapter or two from Amy's point of view. If I were reading this story as opposed to writing it, I think I would find that perspective interesting. But I'm not sure if I can really write convincingly from a female point of view. I'd like to try it, but I also don't want to mess around too much and do something to screw up the story, which I think is coming along okay so far. I think for now I'll just keep doing it the way I've been doing it.
As I've said in these author's notes before every chapter, comments and high ratings greatly appreciated. Seeing that people are reading and enjoying my story is really helping me keep this going. Thanks!
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After Amy left my hangover was still in full effect and standing around in the kitchen wasn't helping. My head had cleared enough for me to move around without feeling like I was being stabbed in the brain every time I took a step. I scrounged around in the junk drawer for a packet of Alka-seltzer, dropped the tablets in my water and chugged it down. Then I went and got in the shower. I started the water out warm and I leaned up against the tile wall with my head right under the spray. I slowly turned the temperature down until it was as cold as I could stand it and stayed in there for good ten or fifteen minutes. It sounds weird but it's always worked for me. After I started to feel better I turned the water back up to warm and washed up. Then I shaved, brushed my teeth and got dressed.
I wasn't trying to impress her or anything, at least that's what I kept telling myself. But I did feel kind of shabby in my regular street clothes when Amy was around, looking all hot in her pricy designer outfits. So instead of my comfortable jeans, a t-shirt and my ratty old sneakers I put on a newer cleaner pair of jeans, a black dress shirt which I left un-tucked in (stylin!) and a decent pair of shoes. I tried to mess around with my hair a little but I keep it short so there wasn't really much I could do with it.
I even splashed on some cologne my ex had gotten me before she moved out about a year ago. I'm not really a fan of the stuff but she liked it, and the few dates I'd gone on since we split up seemed to like it okay. When I do use it I only use a little because if I use too much the smell starts to get to me and all I can think about is taking a shower to wash the shit off.
By this time my hangover was pretty much gone so I made myself a sandwich which I ate while walking around straightening up my apartment. The whole time I kept thinking about this whole bizarre situation. I mean, before Amy left I'd laid down the law. I told her I was fed up with her antics and she was going to have to start toeing the line and doing anything and everything I said, or I was going to use the video of her screwing Charlie to take her down.
So on the one hand, I was using this video to blackmail her and take my revenge on her for every shitty little thing she'd ever done to me. But on the other hand, here I was dressing up for her and cleaning up my apartment. I thought about it while I was in my bedroom changing the sheets on my bed and hiding all my dirty laundry in my closet.
What the hell was I doing? I asked myself. Who was I trying to impress? Who the hell is in charge here? I gave it up for a lost cause and decided to try to figure it out later. My apartment needed to be cleaned up anyway, I told myself. I wasn't doing any of this for her. I knew I was full of shit but that's what I kept telling myself.
When I was finally satisfied with the condition of my apartment I stretched out on the couch to see if Sports Center was on. Of course as soon as I started to get comfortable Amy showed up. I glanced at the time on my satellite receiver when I saw her car pull up. It was 2:30. She had made good time. I changed the channel from ESPN to a satellite music station. I was about to go into the kitchen and get the door for her but then I realized I ought to brush my teeth again since I'd just eaten.
I heard her walking up the steps as I was walking into the bathroom. She started knocking just as I started brushing. My first instinct was to hurry up and go get the door. But then I stopped myself. Who the hell was in charge here anyway, right? I leaned up against the window by my sink and took my time. I don't think I ever brushed my teeth slower, or for as long. She knocked again, louder this time, and more insistent. I smiled, and kept brushing. Yeah, it was petty, but what the fuck?
I leaned over to spit in the sink and she knocked again. It's amazing how much emotion, how much desperation can be expressed through a simple sound like knocking on a door. Maybe it was all in my head. Didn't matter to me if it was in my head because it made me laugh. I gargled some mouthwash and spit it out into the sink, then ran the tap making sure the sink was thoroughly rinsed out. I looked in the mirror to make sure I didn't have any toothpaste on my face before I left to get the door.
I leisurely walked out into the kitchen and opened the door. Amy was standing on the landing facing away from me with her arms folded across her chest. I must have startled her because she jumped when she heard the door open. When she left she'd been wearing the same skirt and blouse she'd worn the night before when we met at the bar. Now she had on a figure hugging sun dress with a green and yellow floral pattern. It came down to just above her knees. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail and she was wearing those weird big designer sunglasses. I always think those big glasses some girls wear look like something Elton John would wear. Uh... but I guess that's beside the point. Anyway...
"Oh, my God! I was knocking so long, I thought you'd left!"
"Sorry," I smiled at her. "I didn't hear you until just now. Come on in."
She picked up a couple shopping bags and walked inside. She set them down in the living room and took off her sunglasses, tucking them into the purse she slung over her shoulder.
"I hope these are okay," she said nodding toward the bags on the floor. "I have to go now..."
I leaned up against the door jam in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, blocking her way out.
"Ah..." she hesitated, "Donald is going to be home in a few hours and I... ah... have some... things?"
"You changed."
"I wasn't going to go out in public smelling like sex!" She grimaced at me.
"So you went home, showered and changed, then went out and replaced what you broke, and got back here in, what? two hours?"
"No," I frowned at the haughty tone in her voice as she continued, "I went home, sent one of my servants out to pick up your shit, and washed up. Then I came back here."
"I told you I wanted YOU to go out. I took your panties when you left because I wanted you to go out in public with no underwear. I wanted you to go out smelling like you'd just been fucked."
"Oh my god, Dave, come on," she whined. "I don't have time for this now, I have to go."
"Dave," I deadpanned and looked into her eyes.
"S-sir..." she took a deep breath, "I have to go. I know you can... I know you have..."
"Get in the bedroom."
"Dave, come on! I need to go! Please!" She put her hand on my chest and pushed gently.
"I told you to go yourself." I walked toward her, edging her back toward the bedroom by pushing my chest against her hand.