Page 35 of Dr Feel Good
The snow had finally taken a break from falling, though the white stuff still blanketed the forest and blocked the roads, and the inside of the cabin remained freezing. My brief trip from the bathroom to the bedroom left me shivering, and before getting dressed, I grabbed Felix’s discarded robe to wrap myself in and sat by the fireplace. The man selected only the best things, so his robe was thick, fluffy, and most importantly, warm. It had the added benefit of smelling like him.
The smell of roasted garlic and onions wafted to me. My mouth watered. He’d been feeding us simple, bland meals to not upset my stomach, but it seemed he finally realized that my taste buds weren’t damaged in any way, shape, or form.
I stayed by the fire until I stopped shivering. Instead of searching for clothes, I decided I’d keep wearing Felix’s robe. It was warm and covered me, meeting the two basic criteria for winter clothing. I did, however, need to do something with my hair. While my sisters had wavy curls that they’d inherited from our mother, my hair was thick and bone straight. The thicknessmeant too many days without maintenance, and it became a tangled, frizzy mess.
I assumed it was from my father’s side, a theory I could never confirm due to his bald head and no immediate familial relationships. My mother, imperfect woman that she was, at least kept in contact with her younger and far more stable sister, calling on her whenever a favor was needed. It strained their relationship, but my aunt always welcomed me and my sisters with open arms. When Daddy got too drunk and violent, or Mama decided to bring a john over, Auntie Sheron would allow us to stay as long as needed. Once I entered the sex trade, contact became more limited, though my younger sisters went more often than I did. Lying to the cops about my home life had burned a bridge between us, as I’d been convincing enough for them to threaten her with a charge for filing a false police report.
Shaking my head to clear away that painful memory, I went to the dresser and picked up Felix’s comb. It was smaller than the one I had back home, but once I sectioned my hair, it worked fine. Unfortunately, he only had a thickening hair mist—as if I needed that—pomade made from fancy ingredients, and an oily scalp serum. My hair was on the drier side, so I kept light oils and leave-ins at my place. But the cabin didn’t belong to me. So, I made do with what I had and used the hair mist and scalp serum.
As I tended to my hair, my mind couldn’t help but wander to Aunt Sheron and the many cousins she’d given me. Particularly, Estelle, her third child, and my favorite cousin.
Before all that drama, Estelle used to follow behind me and my sisters like a baby duck. At that time, she was the only daughter until the baby of her family came along. Four years my junior, Estelle was fascinated with my mechanical knowledge, adored Lake’s singing voice and musical prowess, and was impressed by Juno’s drawing skills. Estelle, too, had wavy curlscommon on that side of the family, though her hair was a bright red, not a deep mahogany. At 26, she’d become a successful author. I made sure to support my lil’ cuz each time she released a new book. I wondered if Felix was a reader, and if so, if he’d enjoy reading about the fantasy worlds filled with danger and romance that Estelle crafted. Regardless, once I got back to Kansas City, I’d give her a call. It’d been too long since we talked, and unlike her mother, she didn’t hold my past against me.
Finally, I finished my hair. I had no hair tie to throw it into a bun, so instead, I put it into two thick braids. I smirked as I imagined Felix pulling on them as he fucked into me. Just the thought had my cunt aching with need.
Placing the comb on the edge, I prepared to leave the room. Instead, the plastic fucker decided to clatter to the floor. Tsking in annoyance, I forced my aching ass to bend down to pick it up. Gunshot wounds and hard fucking kept my body sore.
As I grasped the comb, I noticed the edge of a piece of paper sticking out of the bottom drawer. Curiosity got the better of me. I made the snap decision to grab it along with the comb. Once I straightened, I glanced at the door, straining to hear if Felix was approaching the door. I heard no footsteps, and the sounds of pots and pans clattering let me know he wasn’t done cooking. The coast clear, I unfolded the paper. A glance made it obvious it was a contract. Morally, I should stop, but you don’t become the president of an outlaw organization by letting pesky morals dictate your actions. So, instead, I kept reading, my heart dropping more as I did.
It wasn’t a regular contract, but one meant for a woman named Ally who was going to become his submissive. My stupid, emotional heart twisted as I read the details. He had ultimate authority and was allowed to see other women while she stayed faithful. She’dalsohave to make herself available 24/7, including the holidays.
Time and again, I harbored a fantasy of a strong knight in shining armor coming along to make my life a little easier. Warrior was the last man who made me believe in that fantasy, at least, before Felix had revived it. Both, however, reminded me that the lifelong dream wasn’t destined to become a reality. Warrior, with his ultimatums and assholery, and Felix, for using me as a temporary distraction. Because, well, what else could I be? He had a woman lined up for him when he returned to Kansas City, one I assumed fit his mold better than I did.
My flicker of sadness faded quickly, replaced by rage, directed at myself and him. I was kicking myself for my stupidity at developing feelings for a random man I’d known for less than a month. And I was furious at him for hiding his future submissive, for having the nerve to be a demanding asshole when he had no intentions of long-term with me. I had half the mind to tear the contract up. I resisted the urge, though, opting to storm to the kitchen to confront the motherfucker.
Perhaps I’d gotten too used to living with a criminal, as my guard was completely lowered around Michelle. It helped that she was injured, a good fuck, and great company, allowing me to ignore the unsavory activities that she no doubt took part in. As a result, it allowed me to forget that she could be a threat.
I whistled to a tune in my head as I cooked dinner, my mood jovial. Michelle was able to take showers—albeit short ones—and the snowstorm had finally ended. Both were good developments that gave me a boost of serotonin. Fucking a pretty woman on the regular also helped. I did not know what would become of our fling when we returned to our regular lives, but for now, I’d enjoy whatever was going on between us.
My whistling came to an abrupt stop when something hit the back of my head. It was too light to cause injury, but it still managed to catch my attention. I turned around, brows furrowing as I met Michelle’s glower.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, bending over to pick up the crumbled paper.
“Who the fuck is Ally?” she demanded, making me freeze.
I glanced at the paper, putting two and two together. Indignation swept through me as I realized she’d been snooping. Uncrumpling the paper confirmed what I already knew; she’d found the subcontract I drafted up before I left KC. Caring for Michelle—then fucking her—had made me forget about Ally. An oversight on my part.
“You went through my shit?” I hissed.
Instead of answering my question, she responded with one of her own. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a bitch waiting for you?”
“Because Ally isn’t my fucking sub, and I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Bullshit, because if you’re involved with someone else, I deserve to know. I’m many things, Felix, but a side-bitch isn’t one of them, and never will be.”
“Oh, that’s where the fucking line is drawn?” I scoffed. “You won’t entertain a taken man, but crime is okay?”
Her jaw tightened. “I didn’t get to pick the hand I was dealt, you prissy motherfucker. I made the best of what I had and did what I had to do to survive. But who I’m with? I get to choose that shit, and I won’t choose a liar who uses me.”
The icy conviction in her voice gave me pause and made me feel like an asshole for my words. But backing down wasn’t in my nature.
“You’re overacting over shit that isn’t your business,” I said coolly. The argument was draining me, and I needed to stir my sauce. “But since you’re so fucking nosy, I’ll have you know that Ally was a potential sub. That’s all that’s between us, so stop acting like a jealous little bitch when you have no claim on me.”
I returned to the stove to tend to the tomato sauce, only to have something else flung at my head mid-stir. This time, a butter knife, which did far more damage than the contract.
“Will you fucking stop throwing shit at me?” I growled as I rubbed my sore head.
“It’s no less than what you deserve, fuckface,” she shot back, picking up another utensil—a fork this time—to launch at me.
