The Big Pretense

Chapter 11

A/N: The image above does not belong to me. It belongs to the person who uploaded it on the internet.

AJ's POV

I must have dozed off and had fallen into a dream behind the cashier's counter today because in my dream I saw Art coming through the door of my restaurant.

I stared wide eyed and unblinking as he came closer and closer to me.

"AJ, AJ," he was waving a hand close to my face.

"Pinch me, please pinch me," I begged Art.

I received a painful flick on my forehead instead.

"You are for real!" I exclaimed. "I thought you said that you are not allowed to leave the building at any time. Have you been lying to me?"

"No, dumbass," he replied, "I won the best actor of the day award, the award being that I could spend the remainder of the day outside the building and get back by eight o'clock in the evening."

I did not let him finish his sentence. I found myself grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him through a side door which led to a private room of the restaurant reserved only for me and family members or relatives or special friends.

"Why are you bringing me in here?" Art asked me, looking no less than terrified, as he surveyed the wide comfortable bed and other amenities inside the room.

I gave him a gentle flick on his forehead, although I would have wanted to have a gentle go on his other head, wait, shit, blame my perverted thought on my two friends out there who have influenced me so much with their gutter minds. They have the natural ability to apply the naughtiest of thoughts on the most innocent word. These two friends of mine claim to be saints and angels but compared to them I could easily claim to be an archangel.

"Wait," Art said, starting to back out of the room.

"What are you afraid of?" I asked in an offended tone, "I just wanted us to use my laptop over there on that desk. We can search for tips on how to be the best actor of the day. That way you can win the award everyday and then we can get to see each other everyday!"

Art still appeared a little doubtful and mistrusting but he allowed me to pull him back into the room.

I made him sit on the chair that was in front of the desk with the laptop. I dragged another chair from one side of the room and placed it right beside the chair where I made Art sit.

Soon I was logging into my laptop.

Art suddenly stood up and walked away.

"What's your problem now?" I asked.

"I don't want to see your password," he said.

"Oh, okay," I said.

I wasn't expecting him to be sensitive about stealing glances at someone else's password. That gave me a clue that he was an honest person.

"Come back here now, please," I said after I successfully logged into my laptop.

After he came back to sit close beside me, I suppressed the urge to fling my arms around him and kiss him senseless.

Instead I helped him to search on how to be a great actor. We found a site which gave fifteen tips on how to be one.

We read each tip together carefully. One of the tips that was listed on the site was all about practicing a scenario, which according to Art, was what he and the other actors had already been doing.

"You can improve on that by practicing some more with me," I offered.

Art started to look doubtful again.

"What," I said in an offended tone, "you don't think that I have the ability to act out a role?"

"Look," I said when he remained quiet, "suppose I suggest a scenario for us to act out and then you can take it from there."

"What kind of scenario?" Art asked. It hurt seeing his face full of mistrust.

"Let's pretend that we are involved in an argument," I said.

"What kind of argument?" he asked, "what would we be arguing about?"

"Let's say that I am complaining that you are always out of the house most of the time and for long hours at a time, but you are trying to defend yourself by saying that it's necessary for you to work long hours because we need the money to pay for our mortgage and insurance and all other essential stuff of daily living," I didn't know where all this was coming from. I was just throwing it out there because I wanted Art to stay inside the room with me and not lose interest in the topic.

Thankfully, Art seemed okay with the topic and stood up from his chair. But then suddenly he walked out the door. I ran after him.

"What the hell, Art, why are you leaving me again?" I was starting to lose my cool.

He gave me a painful flick on my forehead.

"You said that you would be complaining that I am always out of the house," he said, "so I will be leaving the room first and then when I come in that's when you're going to bite off my head."

Shit, the faces of my two friends came to mind again. I knew that Art's simple and innocent phrase about biting off his head would definitely trigger their naughty minds and get it all out of context. But then again, if I were to be honest with myself, my thoughts were just as murky.

"What are you grinning about?" Art asked, looking at me suspiciously.

Oh shit, I was making my thoughts too transparent.

"Nothing," I replied, "I was just trying to think of ways to win the argument with you."

"No way," Art said confidently, "I always win in an argument. I'm always able to have the last word in an argument."

"We'll see about that," I muttered under my breath.

Soon, Art was walking out the door and then walking back in.

"You goddamn sonofabitch," I said, the moment he stepped into the room. "I've had enough of your coming home very late every single night."

"But sweetheart," he began, a flirty smile dancing on his lips, which changed to shock as my fist landed on his jaw.

He stared at me in total disbelief for just a few seconds before he grabbed me and threw me onto the bed.

Before I knew what was happening, I felt his mouth pressing hard on mine. But it was not a lover's passionate kiss. It was an angry kiss. A kiss meant to punish.

I let him have his way with me for a few seconds before I flipped him so that now he was lying on his back with me on top of him.

He looked at me, his face filled with anxiety.

"Sweetheart," I said gently, "I am not going to hurt you."

And with those words, I kissed him softly, gently, lovingly, until I felt him kissing me back and before we both knew it, we were both shirtless and kissing each other hungrily and wildly. We felt like we just could not get enough of each other.

We would have gone on and on if there had not been an urgent knock on my door.

It was the head waiter. The customers were waiting to pay for their meals and there was no one behind the cashier's counter.