Page 12 of Codi
Whatever my past life was, if the injuries I’ve sustained are any implication, it’s best that it’s over. Denise and Lucas are my future now.
“Mommy, look! I drew you a picture!”
“Did you?” Denise comes to where he sits and musses his hair, peering down at his artwork. “Let me see. Wow, that’s great, baby. Did you show Codi?”
Lucas holds up a paper with shaky, squiggly lines, circles, and shapes in several different colors. “What are they?” I ask, puzzled.
“This is me.” Lucas points to the smallest figure, made of lines and a circle with a broad smile. He points to another with a triangular body. “This is Mommy.” He points to the tallest figure of all, standing next to her. “And that’s you.”
I have never seen my likeness drawn before, and though it looks nothing at all like me, something new and unfamiliar pulls at me. I am filled with warmth and appreciation for such a small and simple gesture. “Is that so? Well, I like it.”
I glance furtively at Denise, drinking in the gentle, adoring look in her eyes and the faint smile accompanying it. At first, I assume that look is for Lucas. But as our eyes meet, I know otherwise. I quickly look away, returning to my rinsing task.
After dinner, bath-time is the order of the day. While he is half submerged in bubbles, I remain nearby, listening as Lucas happily plays with nautical bath toys such as submarines, battleships, sharks, rubber ducks, and some kind of octopus. While I tidy up Denise’s bedroom and begin another load of laundry, I glance into the bathroom and see her supervising his bath, sitting on the toilet with the seat down, gazing wearily at her smartphone.
It occurs to me then how worn out she seems, hidden behind a loving and dutiful exterior. I cannot help but admire her strength, raising a child by herself while working a demanding full-time job with little concern for her own wants. She’s no longer wearing makeup, and her clothes are baggy. After a long day, her hair is finally down in untamed waves.
And somehow, Denise is more stunning now than she was this morning.
“Is there anything I can do to help you further, Miss Denise?”
As though snapping out of her own thoughts, she sluggishly lifts her head and blinks at me. “Huh? Oh. Call me Denise, seriously. Titles make me feel old and wrinkly.” She snorts at me. “Are you kidding? You’ve done so much for me already today. You must be tired.”
“I’m a bionic,” I counter. “I don’t get tired.”
“Not even fatigued a little in your... skeleton, or something?”
“No.”
Denise chuckles. “All right. You can help me put Lucas to bed, then.” Her eyes flit down to my lower half and shetsks, making a small noise. “Oh, Codi, I completely forgot to pick you up some pants! Shit, I’m so sorry.”
Is she... is she looking at my groin?I blink, glancing down with her at my BioNex briefs before looking up again. “You forgot... ”
Her thumbs work furiously over her smartphone as she gives me an apologetic grin. “There, just asked Oliver if he could bring over some pants for you in the morning. Can’t have you walking all around the house in your underwear.” She winks. “People might think I’m utilizing you for other things.”
The implication isn’t lost on me, which isn’t what I expect. Again, there is something familiar about this conversation, about her innuendo, as though some kind of memory floats just outside of my grasp in a fog I cannot reach. Still, I understand what she means.
And the very suggestion of being utilized for Denise for pleasure threatens to send me down a rabbit hole of carnal desires I didn’t know I was capable of having. If she wanted to have me, she could have me. I would oblige, happily so. I fantasize about pinning her down on the bathroom floor, parting her legs, and having my way with her until she screams my name in delight.
I bring all of my processes to a grinding halt, stopping that fantasy immediately. Where the hell did that come from? Why am I thinking about Denise this way? Have I done this before? I must have, for it to come to me so easily. Who was I, before she found me?
I can’t answer that question, and I have to stop thinking about it. My member twitches in my briefs and without any modesty to speak of Denise might suspect where my mind ran off to. Apparently, my jaw has slackened just enough as I ponder this new possibility that Denise grins and starts to giggle, bringing me out of those same thoughts.
The sound of splashing reminds me young Lucas is still in the bathtub. Instantly, all thoughts of having my way with my new mistress die off. Now definitely isn’t the time for that.
I wait outside as Denise drains the water. She reaches for a hooded dinosaur towel, and I excuse myself as he’s dried off. “Now let’s get your jams on.”
Lucas bolts from the bathroom with his towel wrapped around his little form, making a mad dash for his own room, Denise following. She helps him wiggle into fighting-robot pajamas, the pattern of which amuses me greatly. She gives his cheek a kiss, and rises to her feet.
“There now, all ready for bed. Ready for your story?”
“I want Codi!” Lucas declares, darting over to me and bouncing up and down in front of me. “A story! Please?”
“You want me to read you a story?” I glance over at a small shelf of thin, well-worn children’s books. This must be a nightly ritual for Denise and her son. “I suppose I could.”
Lucas shakes his head stubbornly. “No, no. You gottatellme a story! Your own story. That’s the rules. Mommy tells me a story, I tell Mommy a story, now you tell me a story. It’s your turn.”
Put on the spot, I’m unsure of what to do. I glance to Denise, who smiles and folds her arms as she leans against the doorway, gazing at me.
