Mr. Baker's Assistant (Book 1)

11: Spinning

Mr. Baker pulls back and walks out. He hasn't been back since. It's been almost two days. I was starting to worry, but that wasn't the problem.

My problem was seeing him everywhere. Literally. I was catching up on chores. In the laundry room, I saw him leaning against the dryer as I filled the washer.

During dishes, I saw him getting into the fridge, then sitting at the table. I knew none of it was real, but I couldn't stop seeing him. It was like I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop.

By the end of the night, I was throwing myself a pity party. I was blasting Marilyn Manson, drinking Jack Daniel's straight from the bottle. I was having the mental breakdown my birth mother had. She would blast music all hours of the night and dance, crying, and drink all the liquor. What can I say? It's genetic.

I moved my body to the music, as Tainted Love came on. This song brought out my inner whore. I was on the coffee table dancing, and slowly stripping. I was singing along. The liquid in the bottle clanking as I moved.

I turned to see Mr. Baker back home. I kept dancing.

"Don't touch me please.
I cannot stand the way you tease." Mumbling the parts in between. "Touch me, baby.
Tainted love.
Touch me, baby.
Tainted love."

I had gotten down from the table and made my way over to him. I had no shirt on, and my pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, partially rolled down. My hair a mess. Makeup partially smeared.

He just nodded and held me up. He was still wearing the same clothes.

"Mr. Baker go on a bender?" I laughed, as the music still played.

"Nope." He answered, and turned my music off. I pouting out my bottom lip.

"Kells, you're no fun." I pouted, plopping down on the couch and taking a swig of the bottle. He snatched it from my lips.

"Marilyn, why are you throwing a party for yourself?" He asked. I inhaled and tried sitting up, but reluctantly sunk back into my seat.

"I was having a Manson breakdown." I answered.

"What does that mean?" He looked at me confused.

"My birth mother used to blast Marilyn Manson and drink, when she had breakdowns. We call it the Manson breakdown." I chuckled. "She named me after him. My name is literally Marilyn Doll Manson." I laughed.

"I think it's time you went to bed." He said, pulling me up from the couch.

"No. Where have you been?" I asked, jerking away. "You had me worried sick. Why didn't you call or even text?" I said, it was a stupid reason to start crying, but the water works started.

"It doesn't matter where I was. I'm here, now." He said.

I didn't say anything, but even in my intoxicated state, I didn't want him to see me cry. I walked to my room, and closed the door, behind me. I pulled my remaining clothes off of my small pale body.

I walked over to my bed and was asleep, before my head hit the pillow. It had been a long night, and all I wanted was to be ass naked asleep.

SORRY ITS SO SHORT