“Don’t swear at me, I was only trying to do good. You don’t want our Hachikō having bad breath, do you? Or worse still, suffering from the unimaginable terrors of gum disease?”

“You blow my mind sometimes,” I reply.

Rubbing my eyes, I grunt and slide down the chair.

“You’re such a drama queen,” she says.

“How would you like it if I did the same thing to you?”

“I washed the brush under the hot water tap, didn’t I? As far as I’m concerned, the matter is now resolved.”

With a smug look on her face, she stretches her arms above her head. The sweat on her body glistens in the light coming through the window. She looks beautiful and tempting, and I know she’s doing her best to disarm my temper by flashing as much flesh as possible.

“If you think you’re getting any fried chicken, you can forget it.”

“Well,” she says, “if you don’t get me any, then you’re not getting your photo.”

“Shit,” I mutter out the side of my mouth.

“Exactly, so quit this little act and behave yourself.”

Getting up, she walks around the table and stands before me. Leaning forward, so her breasts sit upon Hachikō’s head, she pinches my cheeks as if I’m a baby and kisses me on the forehead. I’m not happy, and yet I know arguing would be futile. She gets her way whether I like it or not.

“If you go now, I shall get dressed and set the table.”

Leaning in a little more, she breathes into my ear. Feeling lightheaded, I notice Hachikō trying to catch a glimpse of the breasts resting on his head. Unfortunately for him, he’s sandwiched tightly between Meeko and myself unable to move a muscle. Instead, he lets out a disapproving bark.

“Do I have to go right away? I don’t want to. I want to lie on the floor and drink beer. My belly hurts.”

“Don’t be silly,” she says, “you can do that after. We can do it together. With full bellies, it will be far better. Everything always is.”

Eying her areolas, I make no attempt at pretending I’m not. Having previously vilified me for sexualising her body, she doesn’t seem too bothered now. If I were stronger willed, I’d call her out for it, but I’m too weak to do anything but obey.

“You can do as you wish with them later,” she smirks.

Nibbling my nose, she runs her fingers through my hair before moving to the window. When I look over at her, her body’s silhouetted perfectly in the middle of the wooden frame. She looks biblical. For a moment I hate her, but then the hate drips out of me along with my sweat, and all that’s left is the usual ache in my guts—the desperate need to have her more than anything. Blinking my eyes as if hypnotised, I wish for the day when shit like this didn’t exist, and yet without it, I know our moments of bliss wouldn’t taste half as sweet. It’s those moments that give me the will to carry on, and so everything is as it was.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US