probably get a kick out of a group evening. And his other buddy, James Pearson, would love to join the fun. Tommy had a bum leg and felt too self-conscious to approach women; James used to be married, but his marriage had lasted only a few months.
Tiffany didn't like the idea, was afraid of where it might lead. But if she agreed, maybe Colin would go easier on her when she told him about Rover. "If that's what you want."
He waved for a coaster, and she nearly twisted an ankle trying to get him one. "That's what I want. Now get dinner on before you put me in a bad mood again."
Proud that it was almost ready, Tiffany returned to the kitchen to serve their meal while he watched the news.
"Come and get it," she called five minutes later.
He sat at the dining table while she filled his plate. She did so very carefully, making sure no two foods touched. She hadn't forgotten that lesson, not since he'd thrown his glass at her and broken her cheekbone.
Finished, she took her seat across the table and waited for him to sample his food. She didn't have permission to eat until he gave the okay.
Sometimes he was on dessert before he let her touch a single morsel, just to see if she'd eat a cold dinner rather than disobey him.
Tonight, she didn't mind if he never gave the signal. She was too nervous to eat, anyway. And, as appetizing as the bread smelled, she couldn't have garlic. She was afraid it would make her breath stink.
"How'd it go today?" he asked while he ate.
29
She swallowed hard. She wanted to tell him what had happened with Rover, get it over with. But she couldn't do that now. He'd blame her for ruining his meal on top of everything else. "Fine."
"Fine?" His fork stilled. "Last I heard you were in a panic."
"I calmed down." She motioned to his pasta. "How is it?"
"Delicious. You hungry?"
She didn't want to ruin the enjoyment he received from denying her, from proving to himself how much she loved him, so she nodded.
"How hungry?"
"Starving."
"Stand up."
Surprised, she jumped to her feet.
"Come over here where I can see you."
She held her breath as he pulled her close, made her turn around and examined every inch of her. "Is something wrong?" she finally asked.
"You're getting fat."
In his vocabulary, fat was worse than ugly. She couldn't help wincing.
"But I--I weigh the same as I did yesterday."
"Don't argue with me! Nobody knows your body better than I do." He eyed the Caesar salad, garlic bread and fettuccine primavera she'd prepared.
"This shit has too many calories for you. Get a frozen dinner and nuke it."
She'd eaten frozen diet dinners so often over the past few years they all tasted like cardboard to her, but he generally praised her if she left food on her plate. At least that would be easy tonight.
By the time she returned, he'd finished his meal. Stretching out, he nursed another glass of wine while watching her eat, and she picked cautiously at her food.
"Very good," he said. "I like that. Delicate. Feminine. So many women eat like pigs these days."
When she smiled, he leaned forward. "Take your tits out again."
She hesitated. "Don't you want me to shave first?"
"No. I need that stubble or I won't be able to punish you like I've got planned."
See? He cared about her. She had to make him angry before he could hit her. "I understand, Master." She took out her breasts, even stroked herself to get him excited. Then she abandoned the rest of her meal so she could do the dishes and satisfy him that much sooner.
He stopped her when she was halfway to the kitchen. "Put that down.
I'm ready now."
But he hated it when she left dirty dishes out. "What about cleaning 30
up?"
"You can do it later."
So he was eager. That was hopeful. It gave her the courage to say what had to be said. She had to do it before he punished her, so it would all be over at once.
She put the plate she was holding back on the table as he came around to meet her. "I--I have to tell you something
R. C. Farrington, Jason Farrington