Page 43 of Tattoo My Heart
I shake my head in amusement and keep on going. When I walk back into Evie’s bedroom, I pause in the doorway. The place is a complete mess. The sheets look like they’re about to come off the bed, the comforter is half on the floor. Next to the bed, I see the clothes Evie was wearing last night. Right before she got naked in front of me.
My cock stirs under the blanket, the softness of the material making it feel better yet.
“Calm the fuck down, dude,” I look down like I am about to have a conversation with it. “Gertrude is waiting for you.”
Apparently, that is the only reminder I needed to go halfway limp in an instant. Progress.
I pick up my clothes off the floor and decide to take a quick shower before putting them on. When I get into Evie’s bathroom, I smile at how cozy and inviting it looks, just like her. Well, maybe not exactly like her. She can be snappy once in a while.
Chuckling to myself, I turn the water on and drop the blanket. Since I have a visitor waiting for me, I don’t drag this out, although I would love to. Picturing what Evie’s breasts would look like as they glisten with soapy bubbles is not something I should be doing right now.
When I am finally clean and dressed, I end up back inside the bedroom, staring at her sheets. The small spot on them is beckoning me. I wonder if she actually tried to clean this up before she took off on me.
Despite the fact that I haven’t spent much time with Evie in the last eight years, I still know enough about her. And I’d bet good money on the fact that she is now embarrassed and she doesn’t want to face the consequences of her own actions.
I could give her a hard time about it, or… I could just be a man and wash her sheets. Deciding that the latter option is the appropriate answer in this instance, I strip the bed and go in search of her laundry room.
“Oh my goodness gracious,” Gertrude greets me from the entrance to the kitchen. “What are you doing, young man?”
I lift the pile of laundry in my arms. “I want to throw these in the wash.”
Gertrude points me in the right direction, her eyes so big in her face, I don’t even think she can blink at this point. When I walk inside the small laundry room, she remains standing in the doorway, supervising me from a distance.
By the time I got the washer started, she is staring at me with her mouth gaped open.
“Problem?”
“You,” she points at me with her arthritic finger, “are a keeper, young man.”
I puff out my chest and grin at her. “Yeah?”
“Do you do this all the time?” she questions. “Or just now for my benefit?”
“Well, technically,” I explain, “this is for Evie’s benefit. Not yours. But I know how to do laundry, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Gertrude puts both hands on her hips, assessing me like she is about to purchase my services.
“Do you clean house, too?”
“Not that much,” I admit. “I have a cleaning lady who…”
“You have a cleaning lady?” she shrieks. “So you’re rich then?”
“I get by,” I shrug, completely minimizing the size of my wealth. I know I don’t look like the typical rich man, and that’s the way I like it. Less of a headache, if you ask me.
“Do you cook?” is Gertrude’s next question.
“Eh,” I move my hand from side to side. “Not my strong point there.”
There’s a moment of complete silence, and I am curious to see what other questions Gertie here has in store for me.
“That’s okay,” she finally says. “Two out of three is not bad at all.” She turns to walk back to kitchen but then stops. “Actually, it’s more like one and a half out of three since you don’t clean much.” She turns suspicious eyes my way. “But you know how to, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nods and starts walking again. “Good enough.”
The smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nostrils as soon as we are out in the hallway. I follow the trail until we get to the kitchen. There’s a steamy cup sitting on the table, with the chair pulled out in invitation.
