BEING ANITA

Locksmith

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞.

It was a Friday evening. Asher had gone downtown to fix his amplifier. Saturday was a big day for him, and the guy truly needed my company to keep his nerves at bay. Presenting his newest song to a school full of people that actually never cared about him wasn't the most pleasant thing to do, but I told him it was a good opportunity to show them what he was made of.

"Wait a bit, I need to change," I said as he was leaving to the store. He stopped me.

"No, let me do this alone."

"Why?"

"I... I need to focus, dunno. Plus fixing an amplifier is boring-"

"Staying home is even worse, Ash."

"Stay either way."

"Nooo."

He leaned over and kissed my ear. "Obey me, Anita." The wholesome shiver ran across my spine. His voice had changed in the last months. The pitch had gotten stronger and deeper, which was a trouble to me. It did wild things to my belly and made me want to jump on his lap every time I saw him. And he seemed to be aware of the effect of his voice on me. Talking close to my ear had surpassed the habit of flicking me.

I did the puppy face. "But it's my birthday, Ash. Don't leave me alone."

"I'll be back by seven. And," he approached my ear again. "We'll celebrate it the way you like." The thin smile on his face grew to a smirk.

"And how do I like it, hm?"

He turned around and headed to the car. "You're annoying. And put your pants on, no skirts outside home."

"Whateveeer. Byee, drive safely, baby."

Asher snorted. He hated the word baby.

I closed the door and headed upstairs to mind my business. There wasn't much to do, and nobody else inside. Crazy how nobody in my family cared about my birthday anymore. They just showed up to ask if my grades were back on top or if I was dating some new guy. Gosh, I wasn't dating anyone. I slumped on my bed, wondering what kind of celebration would that be. Asher and I had been copping a feel for the most part of our time together. I loved it when he grabbed me. And I could feel he was having a blast too. But that wasn't sex. I didn't understand how come he was so chill after seeing me entirely naked. Braxton had said that he had a major boner the first time he spotted the strap of my bra. Meanwhile, Asher was truly satisfied with seeing me as if I were a classic portrait. He'd run his fingers on me, trace the lines of my body, eyes in trance. Enamored. Alive. But not on fire. Maybe because I was just his muse, not a sex object, which made me happy, but masturbating alone in my room wasn't enough. I wanted Asher inside me. And I didn't know how to ask him that. Maybe because deep down I wanted him to do it spontaneously. I wanted him to strip my clothes off and just fuck me real hard. For the first time, I was jealous of his guitar. Always so close to his hips, moaning as he fingered them. He had not touched me there yet. It was like he had some secret protocol, but gosh, I wanted him to break it. And what's worse: he wasn't kissing my mouth. He had a particular obsession with my chest and neck.

I put the panties back and checked my calendar. Damn, we were too young to marry, but if that's what I had to do to get laid with him, I'd do it. But again, I wanted HIM to ask me. Would he ever?

"I could just die with you."

I'd usually take a shower after these private moments when Asher wasn't around, but something stopped me. I heard steps downstairs. Was the store closed and Asher was back?