THE PSO (Phone Sex Operator)

Paint & Jenny

"What about lagoon blue," Zach says pointing to one of the millions of paint cans which stood on the shelves in front of us.

"I like our grey," I say sadly.

"Sarah, our whole house is grey. Can we just have a bit of colour, please? I feel like I've gone colour blind every time I leave my room."

"...Fine." He had a point. His room was the only room which wasn't grey. His walls were yellow, which I thought was gross, but it was his room his choice. "Ooo what about this."

I pick up a can of black paint. Zach snatches it off me.

"Seriously. It's literally just grey but darker. And what on earth are you trying to turn our living room into, a sex dungeon? Actually, that would be pretty cool. Huh." His head tilts as he considers the idea. "We could replace the sofa with sex swings."

"I mean, if we were going to go that far, we might as well as keep the slut sign."

"It would go with the theme," Zach agrees. "We could start answering the door in gimp outfits. I bet that would stop anymore Jehovah witnesses from knocking again."

"We could rent out the equipment to kinky couples and make some money out of it." I play along.

Zach was looking increasingly sold on the idea. "Are you as serious about this as I am?"

I resist the urge to face palm.

"...Zach, we are not turning our living room into a sex dungeon. Our kitchen is literally connected to it. I'm not eating my shreddies every morning in front of someone getting rammed on a sex swing."

"Fine," he huffs. "But that means no black paint for you." He puts it back. "What about...pink."

"A pink living room. Just pink?"

"Hm, maybe we could have a second colour."

I smile, nudging his shoulder with mine. "Likeee grey?" I suggest. "Pink and grey go really well together."

"Oh! But so does yellow and grey! We should do that colour! Look - mustardy yellow. Sounds dreamy."

"Oh god," I moan. "I'm going to be having nightmares about mustard."

"It is a beautiful colour, Sarah. And it will look fabulous in our living room, just like it does in my bedroom, although mine is sunshine yellow. Eh, close enough." He picks two paint pots off the shelf and places them in the trolley, next to the brushes, tarp, rollers and cutting in tape. "And you'll still get to have some grey. Look at us, compromising like mature adults."

I coo. "Aw, we're growing up."

We head towards the tills. Zach tries to pay for the items but once again the self service machine calls for assistance.

"Oh no," I whisper to Zach, seeing the familiar brown haired girl approach. "It's her again."

"Awkward," he whispers back.

"Hey there," she greets cheerfully. Her eyes dart to the items in our trolley as she fiddles with the check out.

Zach goes to open his mouth and I elbow him in the ribs.

"We. Are. Decorating," I tell her firmly, before Zach can say anything embarrassing. "Absolutely none of this is going inside of me. Nor am I getting gang banged again. This is just for d-e-c-o-r-a-t-i-n-g," I emphasis.

Her mouth forms a circle. "Oh. That's. Uh. Nice. Good for you guys." She takes a step back, my eyes catching the name on her lanyard and I freeze. Terry. "The machines, uh, all fixed for you. Have a nice day."