Page 33 of Unrivaled Love
Win, win.
Twenty minutes later, the chicken wire rock sacks are in place and I test the log a little. The tree creaks nicely as I push down with my foot.
It'll be annoying to go through the maze of yarn still up in the kitchen since I guarantee she hasn’t found the scissors, but it was a fucking delight to watch her get more and more frustrated as she tried to get in my face this morning. Angry Jo is a scary sight. I’m glad I’m not a ref in her league.
I unlock the front door with the key and when I open the door, I do so slowly, expecting a 5 gallon bucket of chocolate sauce to be dropped on me. Jo has had a few hours inside and it's like stepping into enemy territory.
She’s had plenty of time to booby trap every corner of this place.
Booby.
I saw her boobs last night and goddamn, they were majestic.
Her entire body was electric. Tight and tempting.
Right now though, I can’t imagine her body and how much stronger she’s gotten since I last had the privilege of touching it.
I need my wits about me.
I carefully close the door behind me.
I check the floor for spilled vegetable oil.
All clear.
I hold out my hands to brace for the onslaught of honey followed by the spray of feathers.
But nothing happens. Huh.
I bob and weave through the yarn in the kitchen to the hallway that leads to my bedroom and look around as best I can before taking a slow, tentative step in.
Nothing.
Maybe she isn't going to retaliate. Maybe she's learned her lesson.
Her car was still in the driveway so I don’t think she left but there’s no sign of her inside.
I scan the room from the doorway and see nothing is out of order. With a shrug I walk to the bathroom so I can shower off all this manual labor. I pull my shirt out of my waistband and drop my shorts and briefs in one, kicking them to the side. As the water warms I use my toes to remove my socks; struggling to get the material past my heel. I could just bend over and pull them off but they’re soaked in sweat and I’ve almost got them.
Once free of my socks I check the shampoo bottle in case she replaced it with mustard or mayonnaise like I had planned to do to her. My usual cranberry cashmere scent, whatever the hell that means, greets me so I step in.
Maybe Jo has matured in our years apart. Maybe she isn't the girl I used to know. I should give her some credit. I'd want her to do the same for me, right?
The sweat from today is different from the sweat of games or practice. Dirt, pollen, and saw dust cover my skin and I can feel the particles scraping as I wash my body. I use the same shampoo as body wash so I'm sudsy from head to toe when I sense movement in the room. I rinse my face and wipe the glass of the shower door, but there's nothing there.
I take a few more moments to enjoy the hydrotherapy before turning off the water.
When I open the shower door I see the towel I had sitting on the counter is gone. So are my clothes.
Oh no she didn't.
I cup my junk and storm out of the bathroom. I reach for a towel but the linen closet is empty. I cross over to the dresser and pull open the drawers and they're empty too.
"Mother fucker!" I yell and I hear a little giggle from down the hall.
I shuffle to the kitchen, still holding my dick in my hand, and see Jo stringing my clothes up from the rafter. Where did she find more yarn? I used her mom’s entire stash last night.
That's when I realize she's picking up a fishing rod and she's pushing it out the open window by the front door.
