Don't Catch Me!

Chapter 17 - Girlfriend

Chapter 17 – Girlfriend

“Is this really necessary?” Joel forced the words through his ground teeth.

“Yes, stop being a baby!  I’m not even using hot wax!  You have no idea the torture we go through to please you men.” I laughed at him.  It felt good to laugh, it felt like such a long time since I last laughed.

We were in a disused restroom in a part of the factory used for storage.  The tiled room had a layer of dust over all the surfaces, which was good because it meant it was unlikely that we would be disturbed.  But despite this, it had taken him a considerable amount of time and effort to reassure me. 

He practically dragged me in here, jumpy, almost shaking with anxiety and a mess.  It could have been shock or just plain old fear that sent me over the edge.  But with the sounds of what we witnessed still echoing in my mind, I just sort of shut down.   

In direct contrast, Joel was a tower of strength.  He was gentle and patient.  After allowing me to curl in a ball on the cold tiles he simply sat next to me and began slowly washing the dirt off my skin with the remnants of his partly sewn tunic.   In whispered tones, he spoke continuously often breathing quiet laughs at himself.  I didn’t catch all of what he said but he seemed to be telling me of his youth. 

As I relaxed he carefully uncurled me and held me while he continued to wash me.  Somewhere in this process he simply handed me a damp cloth and smiled at me.  And that was my therapy.  We bathed each other as I listened to his stories.

Although the fear remained present, slowly I realised that unlike the population here we could do this, we could evade the consequences of our feelings for each other.  If nothing else we had the ability to escape.   And more importantly Joel wouldn’t stand idle and watch on, unlike the people here he was determined, resourceful and not brain dead.   With that knowledge I found my confidence again.  I found myself again. 

He might have been my rock, as I accepted our situation, but that didn’t mean he was immune to my pain.  The small knot of concern between his brows and the worried creases around his eyes only lessened when I started to accept his intermittent kisses without my muscles involuntarily tensing.  When I finally returned his kiss he must have deemed me repaired because with a deep sigh he put his cloth down and reluctantly suggested that we start preparations to implement the plan.  

Only then did he submit himself to this humiliation. 

 “Kiss me and please your man.  I promise it won’t be torture,” a cheeky smirk found its way into his eyes.  He might be embarrassed by his transformation but, even from his position on the bench top in his boxers with his feet in the basin, he still managed to tease me. 

“Well, that’s open to debate,” I felt my cheeks warm as I refused to meet his probing eyes.  I was desperately trying to concentrate on my job and not on his muscular physic.

“I am still your man, right?” the vulnerability in his voice was endearing so was the fact that he had completely missed my point.  “You do still like me?  Will you still like me when I am... like that?”

“Hmm that’s a tough one,” I fought to hide the relief and chose not to correct his interpretation.   I swept the razor gently over his calf muscle.  “This is rather disgusting you know!” I washed the blade clean of the long leg hairs.  I smiled as he gave an indignant huff, “But don’t worry, I am not that shallow and you do look like a Greek God, all smooth and buff.”

“Really?” he looked hopeful and glanced down to his legs again.

“Yes, a regular Adonis, except for the bra, which will kind of ruins the whole sex God thing.”