Authors: Arden Aoide
Shula looked
around the tiny cottage and frowned. When you've planned your death, but wake
up the next morning in your new home after an enlightening evening with your
new husband...your equilibrium tends to be a bit fucked.
She
could hear hammering in the distance, so she knew he was occupied. She poked
around the house, opening the sanded wooden cabinets, with their sparse
inhabitants. It was a perfect home for one who wanted to live alone, but Shula
found she liked the idea of not having so many chores. She could keep his home–
their
home perfectly tidy.
She
opened the refrigerator and stared. Jared didn't need a wife at all. She had
been so used to cooking the same five things for her father, that she wasn't
prepared to see so many fresh fruits and vegetables. Her father had bought
canned vegetables from the grocery store in bulk and she incorporated them into
shepherd's pie, chili, beef stew, spaghetti, and on very rare occasions, roast
beef. Since her mother's death, the garden dwindled, though the summer squash
and cucumber were still going strong. She could make a passable salad with
that.
She
closed the refrigerator and opened the freezer. Full of meat packed in white
butcher's paper. Whole chickens, various packs of different cuts of beef, and
only a few packs of hamburger.
As
far as she knew, her family wasn't poor, but she remembered her mother
complaining of his basic palate. It stood to reason that her own palate would
need some expanding, and she would need to find someone to teach her.
Her
stomach clenched. She didn't want to disappoint her new husband, but she didn't
know how to prepare most of what he had. She didn't think he would abandon her
to his father, but she found she didn't want him to grow tired of her
incompetence.
She
found an empty bowl in the sink and realized that he had prepared his own
breakfast while she slept.
That
wasn't good.
She
would make lunch. She didn't think she could impress him. She went and opened
the refrigerator again. And stared.
She
jumped when the back door opened, and heard his familiar chuckle. “Mornin'
Sleeping Beauty. Did you sleep well?”
She
nodded and moved out of the way when he walked over to get a bottle of water.
“I don't have anything cooked right now, but there's eggs, and stuff for
sandwiches, if you're hungry. Oh, and cereal. That's what I had. I'm slow
smokin' a brisket outside for later, and a good portion of the week if you like
it. You should start smelling it at any time.” He took down half the bottle.
“How's your hand?”
Shula
just stared at him, then looked down at her fingers. “Barely bruised. Um. What
would you like me to make you for lunch?”
Jared
shrugged and looked at her. Scrutinizing. “I hadn't thought about it. I kinda
want to save my appetite, but if you're making you something, I might eat a
bit.”
Shula
looked away. “You'll need to make a list of things you like, so that I know.
I...” She took a deep breath. “I don't know how to prepare–I'll need to learn.”
“Sure.
If it's in the house, I like it. You can watch me until you're ready. What did
you eat when you lived with your father?”
“Quite
a lot of hamburger. Rarely anything else.” She shrugged.
“It
sounds like you'll need to make a list for me. Do you like brisket?”
Shula
felt useless. “I think so. We've had it at church?”
Jared
nodded. “Potatoes, corn, and something sweet?”
Less
useless. “I can bake a cake or maybe some cookies?”
“Sounds
great. If you want, later today, we can do a menu. Add some hamburger dishes
and some new things you'd like to try.” He realized that she might be feeling
her skills were pointless. He tilted his head to the side and motioned to his
left. “Follow me. I've got something to show you.”
To
the left of the bedroom was a door, and Shula had paid it no mind. She assumed
it was a utility closet.
It
wasn't. It was a small office. Books lined several shelves, and there were a
half dozen small televisions across a large desk in various forms of repair.
“These
are computers,” she breathed.
Jared
was retrieving a few books from the shelf, but turned around at her voice. “Oh.
Yes. I like to tinker. I normally use the one out there, but I like to
create...things.” He didn't think she would understand anything technical.
“I
didn't see one out there.”
“It's
on the coffee table. You know what? Let me put these up. Any of these you want
to read, you're welcome. These are yours.” He looked at her pointedly. “But,
I'm about to kill your afternoon.”
He
motioned her to the couch and opened up the laptop. “All you do is open it and
it will come on. Then at the password prompt, type 'Jag65' and that will get
you to the home screen.” He placed it on her lap. “You see the line of pictures
on the left? They're called icons. Touch the top one.”
Shula
hesitantly touched the triangle and watched the screen change entirely.
“Now.
Type in something general, like 'pasta recipes'.
Shula
did. Very slowly. She thanked her mother that she wasn't illiterate. Once the
screen changed again, there were over one million options for pasta recipes. “Wow...how
do you choose?”
“You
be more specific. Like 'chicken' 'pasta' 'vegetables'. Or 'cheesy pasta'. Or
you can select 'images' at the top and get lost for days. To save the website,
you can press the triangle on the top right. That makes it easier to find it
later. Save as many things as you want and I can teach you to organize it
later. If it's something you won't think I'll like, save it anyway. We both
might be surprised. And if this starts to get a bit overwhelming, you can go
get a book.” He wasn't sure if she was listening to him anymore. He stood and
walked to the kitchen. He made them both sandwiches, so that there was a
pretense of his hunger and poured her a glass of tea.
She
didn't look up when he sat back down. He smiled. He ate his sandwich and
watched her. She'd saved nearly twenty when he was half done. “Sustenance,
Shula.”
She
blinked up at him and frowned when she saw the sandwich on the coffee table,
along with the tea.
“I'm
going to work on the fence for a few more hours. Your job today is finding food
you'd like to cook.” He continued hesitantly. “I don't need a caretaker, but
I'd appreciate a partner. I think you should have some time to get used to all
this, and to ignore everything you think you should be doing to make me happy.
Your purpose isn't my happiness.”
Shula
was lost. “Then what is the point of me?”
Jared
smiled gently and ran fingers through her short crop. “What is the point of any
of us? On a spiritual level, well, that's not something that interests me, nor
do I believe you care to have a lengthy discussion on it. But, on a practical
level? You're seeking your fit here with me. You want to pull your weight and
the only practice you have doing that is caring for your father.”
She
nodded. “Yes. I want to learn.”
“Good.
That's good. I want you to be happy. But, I don't want you to think that I'm
unhappy if I do things that your father wouldn't do. I've lived here alone, and
know how to keep a house. It's not my favorite thing, but I don't mind it. But,
I imagine you'll be doing things when I'm out there and I'll be grateful for
it. But some days, I'll want to be lazy, because we
can
, and I'd like to
have someone who indulges me.” Jared could tell that Shula was almost grasping
it. He bent and kissed her temple. “Don't make me command you to be lazy.
Because I will.”
Shula
laughed.
“I
command you to eat. And find food for us to try. Got it?”
“I
think so, yes.” She smiled at him.
“Good.
I'll be back inside in a few hours to start the potatoes. You can dig through
the cupboards if you like. If I've got it, you can cook it.” He grabbed his
water bottle and left out the backdoor.
She
watched after him for a few moments, then turned back around and noticed her
sandwich. The last time someone made a meal solely for her was her mother.
Jared
seemed to be adjusting to having her here without any problems at all. He
seemed to genuinely enjoy having her. She wondered how long it would take for
her to believe it truly. She had no reason to think him a liar, but from what
she understood, husbands didn't work that way. She'd known what her father
needed simply because she'd watched her mother, and helped her, but Jared
seemed to imply that he didn't need her in that regard, but still desired her
company.
How
Shula wished her mother could have known this. No doubt James Agnesson was a
dangerous man, but Jared...
Maybe
husbands were more like Jared than not and she'd just been dangerously
sheltered. The women at church seemed to be boisterously happy when together
and surely miserable women wouldn't be so jovial.
Particularly
if two young people were wed and expected to play their parts. There were bound
to be some kinks. Shula realized that she had the advantage. Jared was
perfectly capable of what she assumed was women's work. But it seemed obvious
now. Jared didn't see it as a lesser position because it wasn't. One needed
food. For sustenance and for enjoyment. One needed a home. For shelter and for
comfort. One needed a bed. For rest and for creation. And Shula wanted to be
part of each one. She just had to accept the invitation.
By
the time Jared was done for the day, Shula had hundreds of bookmarks, and she
was nearly giddy to show him that she had taught herself to create folders to organize
all the recipes. She was further pleased that she had found a dozen recipes for
leftover brisket. She requested more potatoes for the fire because she had
ideas for those as well.
She'd
also baked gingersnap cookies.
Jared
couldn't be happier. Well, he could, but he didn't want to undo any comfort
he'd provided. He knew it would be more beneficial in the long run to prove to
her that he would only touch her with her permission.
But
he also didn't want her to feel rejected or unwanted. He didn't really want to
talk about it, but he thought that if she was outwardly anxious, he would
reassure her.
Luckily,
she was so distracted by his film selection and dinner that it wasn't an issue.
Until
they washed dishes for the evening. She was noticeably tense. He didn't like
it. “If you're not tired we can watch another film.”
“You
can hardly stand up straight.”
He
shrugged. “I might stay up for a bit, but I am tired.”
“Did
you want me to come to bed with you?” She didn't seem opposed to the idea, but
he thought he would play it a little differently. “I wouldn't want to
disappoint you. I am pretty tired. Would you be happy with just kissing a
little?” He tried to keep a straight face.
Her
face was warm. “I'm not–I wasn't–I'm really tired, too.” That was a lie. But,
kissing!
“Come
to bed with me, then.” He gave her a lingering kiss on her temple and palmed
the back of her head. He felt her nod. “Is this alright? Be honest.”
She
nodded with no hesitation.
“If
something becomes not alright, you need to tell me.” Another nod. “But also, if
there's something you
want
, I would
very
much like to know that
as well. Anything at all. Whether it be cooking for you, or painting your
toenails–” a giggle “or a kiss,” he said against her temple.
“A
kiss,” she whispered and closed her eyes. He tilted her mouth toward his, and
gave her the first kiss that she should've had yesterday.
The
only sound was their lips moving against each other and since Shula owned the
desire for it, she was less passive, but Jared still didn't want to take
advantage. He did want to give her a bit of truth, though. He broke the kiss,
but only because they were going to resume it. He pressed his forehead to hers.
“I think I'm convinced.” He held her hand, and pulled her along.
Jared could barely
concentrate. He'd been mostly aroused since the night before, but it was
completely worth it. He hoped he got the message across that he'd desired her
with every fiber of his being, but wanted them to discover each other properly.
He
wanted to leave her
wanting
.
He
had stayed pressed up against her, letting her feel his eagerness, and even
with that distraction, they quite perfected kissing.
They'd
kissed for hours.
It
was a little before noon when he'd finally awoken. He wanted to do some work on
his computer, and call the lumber yard to check that his order was ready for
pickup. Jude and Martin would be over the next day to help with the fence, and
he'd already set the posts.
An
hour later, he was in his office updating his list of experimental queries. He
heard movement in the house. He didn't want to alarm her, but she would see
that the oven was on, and know that he must be nearby. He took his glasses off,
and put them in his desk drawer. He wasn't trying to keep it a secret from her,
but there was no point in explaining exactly what he was doing. Those glasses
were the window to the entire world, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her.
After
about five minutes, she still hadn't come to the door, so he got up to look for
her. She wasn't in the living area or kitchen, and the bedroom door was
cracked, so he peeked inside. He didn't want to startle her if she was
changing.
She
was back in bed, and he was momentarily worried, until he realized that she
would be the absolute death of him.
He
shouldn't watch, but there was no power, natural or not, that could stop him.
His view was impeded by her panties, and while that was tragedy, he could still
watch her face, and he could watch her knickers get damp. Her fingers seemed to
fly inside them, and she was quick–too quick, her head tilted back and her
fingers moving slower, and he wanted to slide inside her so so bad. To feel her
fingers as she finished herself. God, he was going to faint.
He
stepped backward before he did just that. Which was a very good thing, as the
timer to brunch went off. He silently walked back to his office and sat for a
moment, catching his breath, adjusting his erection, and wondering how to get
through to the evening.
Because
he was going to have her.
But
he would try to make her squirm first.
Shula
was going to strangle her new husband. He was being far too sweet. She
appreciated the sweetness, but now that she knew about the sex, well.
She
really wanted the sex. All the time.
She
did enjoy the kissing. There was so much kissing that her lips were sore, but
she wanted even more of that.
Shula
was worried that she'd never be satisfied.
She
would try to be a bit more assertive once the kissing commenced for the
evening, and hopefully that would get him inside of her.
She
walked out into the living room and saw no sign of him. He could come in at any
time, so she would make it a quick one. She walked back into the room and lied
on the bed, and slid her hand inside her panties.
It
took maybe a minute. Then another thirty seconds because she wasn't done. She
would have gone for a third, but she heard a loud noise from the living area.
She got up, smoothed her nightdress down and peeked out the door. Nothing and
nobody. She stepped out and saw that it was the timer that went off and
something was in the oven.
Jared
walked out of his office. She wondered if he'd been in this whole time, and she
felt warmness in her chest and cheeks.
He
smiled at her. “I think I'm going to insist that you wear your nightdress all
the time.” He bent to kiss her, but only briefly. He picked up her left hand,
checked the bruising, and kissed each finger.
He
then picked up her right hand, all while staring her in the eyes, and kissed
each finger, and nuzzled them.
God,
he wanted at her panties. To feel the proof of what he just saw. The scent on
her fingers was a temptation that he had never fathomed.
That
night after leftovers, Jared kissed her cheek as they sat on the sofa. “Tired.”
He wasn't tired. “Want to tuck me in? Kiss me goodnight?” It was pretty
pathetic, but it had worked the night before.
And
it started just as innocently as the night before, with kisses that grew
increasingly passionate. “I hope you aren't growing bored. I could kiss you
elsewhere if you'd like.” Still pathetic, but he could feel the heat of her
blush. He would keep being pathetic.
“Not
bored. Where else would you kiss me?” They were face to face on the bed, she in
her nightdress and he in just sleep pants. They were pressed together as
tightly as his erection would allow.
And
what a fucking question. He wasn't entirely sure it was innocent. “Maybe here.”
He ran a thumb down her neck. She nodded, so he spent a few minutes working his
way down to her collarbone. “Maybe here.” He took her breast in his hand,
covered by two layers. He would suck right through it at her nod.
And
he did. “Maybe here,” he said breathlessly. He splayed his hand across her
ribs.
“How?”
Definitely not innocent.
“I'll
work my way up.” He pushed her gown up, forgetting that he'd be seeing
those
knickers. He kissed her hip, then up her rib cage, then he pulled it over her
head, and finally
finally
, got that sweet nipple in his mouth after he
got her bra off.
“Jared,
please
,” Shula begged.
He
wasn't going to make her beg any more than that. He pulled her panties down,
and since it had been torturing him since their first night, he pressed his
face against her, inhaling, and dipping his tongue in to taste her.
He
found her clitoris easily, just by the way her thighs squeezed his head, and he
tried to work his tongue the way he saw her finger working that morning.
He
pressed a finger in deep, and she tightened around it, suffocating him with her
cunt, and he wanted to die,
exactly
like that.
His
hand was soaked, and her body was relaxed, and now it was his turn. It was
going to be embarrassingly short, but he would have her several times that
night.
And
it would be that way for the foreseeable future. He was addicted to her. He
would never have enough.