Three's Company

When Joey had come home, he'd had a distant look on his face. The meet-up with his father hadn't happened, but something had. He'd been elusive when pressed. Eliza could tell that he was hiding something, but it wasn't her place to insist. If he wanted to tell her, he would. She could wait.

The trio had filled him in on what had happened in his absence. Indira, her mother, the confrontation. It would be something that Joey would have to deal with eventually. It was all part of becoming a man. Eliza couldn't wait to see how he handled it. Her Joey. Her dream come true. Maturing into manhood before her very eyes.

He'd greeted each of the women with a kiss. His sister, still wearing the baggy hoodie, his mother, now changed into her navy blue power suit, and Eliza, still in the revealing outfit from the night before.

"Your clothes. I forgot," he said, admiring her body after his lips left her own, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Eliza assured him, "I knew you would remember. You always take care of me."

And she trusted that he would. That was part of the deal. In giving herself so fully, so completely to Joey, she had to trust. He would take care of her or she would suffer. It was the only way to help him along his journey to manhood.

And so they'd made a plan. A return to Joey's apartment, the home that had once belonged to Eliza, which now felt better, warmer, safer because it belonged to him. They would make a plan. Select clothes for the week. Make a schedule. Set her up for success.

During their talk Juniper had returned upstairs. She was still tired, still feeling the effects of the hangover. But Donna, Joey's mother, had stayed, watching, one eyebrow up. Joey's mother was a strong woman. Eliza had felt that during their parent-teacher meetings, but watching her run the household that morning, ordering Joey's women around, getting the house cleaned up after the party, had cemented the image in her mind. Eliza's relationship with Joey was unique, and it seemed that Donna didn't really understand it.

And so she had insisted on coming along.

The car ride to Eliza's apartment was quiet. Joey drove the car that used to belong to Eliza with Eliza in the passenger seat. Donna followed behind in her Audi, her presence both grounding and charged, like a sharp line drawn in soft sand. Eliza worried about the strong woman inserting herself into Joey and Eliza's space. What would it mean for them? Would it change things?

"I'm not going to interfere," she'd said before they left, when Eliza had shyly excused herself to get her shoes. "I just want to understand what this is. What it means to her. And to you."

Joey hadn't argued. And Eliza—well, she wouldn't have dared say no. If Joey was alright with it, then she was too.

Now, walking up the familiar stairwell to what used to be her space, Eliza felt her skin buzzing under the borrowed outfit Joey had chosen for her—tiny top, tiny skirt, all revealing so much that, in her old life, the teacher would have worried about being seen by her neighbours. Now she could't care less. Joey had picked this outfit out for her, and so it was the right outfit. End of story.

She stepped inside the apartment and exhaled.

Home. Not like before, but more-so. Because it was his.

Her eyes swept the space and rewrote it all.

The couch—his.

The mugs—his.

The books, the throw pillows, the half-dead plant by the window—all his.

She didn't live here anymore. She served here.

Donna walked in just behind her, setting her purse carefully on the kitchen island and looking around like she was cataloging details. Joey wandered toward the living room window, squinting slightly at the skyline.

"So, um, this is her place," Joey said to Donna, an uncertain sound in his voice, not turning.

"Your place, sweetheart" Eliza said casually as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, "I gave it to you. Here you're the Master of the House."

Donna tilted her head. "I've got to admit, that's not a phrase I've heard many women say with a smile."

Eliza turned her head without breaking the hug with Joey, meeting her eyes. "I mean it."

Donna didn't respond at first. She walked around the apartment slowly, studying framed photographs, the kitchen calendar, the hanging spice rack. She wasn't judging—just watching. Waiting. Like a mother in the wild, trying to figure out whether her son was thriving or in the middle of some strange fever dream.

Finally, she turned toward Eliza. "What's your plan, sweetie? After school ends? Where will you go? How will you live?"

Eliza glanced at Joey, then back to Donna. "I'll do whatever Joey wants. If he wants me working, I'll work. If he wants me home, I'll stay. He'll provide for me."

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Eliza, I'll support you, so will the other women, but you're putting your entire future in the hands of an eighteen-year-old boy?"

Eliza didn't hesitate. "Yes."

That gave Donna pause. She looked from Eliza to Joey. "And you're happy with that? That's a lot of responsibility."

There was a pause. Eliza could feel her knees get shaky. What if Joey rejected her? What if he said that he no longer wanted their arrangement? She wasn't sure she could live without him. Her life focusing on him was a dream come true. Everything else, every other possibility, felt like an empty, joyless future. Especially now that she had tasted perfection.

And then he spoke.

"I wasn't sure at first," Eliza's man said, "I felt overwhelmed. But she seems happy this way, and I think we can make it work."

"Yes, but are you happy?"

Another pause.

"Yes," Joey turned so that he was facing Eliza, and looked into her eyes, "Very happy."

And then they kissed. Oh how she loved his kisses. Her man. Her master. Every kiss he gave her was a wrapped gift on Christmas morning, delighting her heart, making her want more. Making her want to give more.

Donna exhaled slowly as she watched. "Well. Okay then."

The kiss finished. It took a while for Eliza to open her eyes, but when she did she saw Joey's beautiful eyes still staring at her with love.

"Let's get you changed," he said, "and start making the plan for the week."

Donna nodded once, then stepped toward the kitchen. "I'll put the kettle on."

And then they were alone in her former bedroom. Joey was more comfortable than before, having been through this routine. Very quickly he began opening drawers, exploring her closet. He asked her opinion about work clothes, about comfort. She freely answered anything he asked, but still deferring to his preferences, to his intuition. For the most part the outfits he picked were clothes she had worn many times before. There were a couple of variations, though, that he gave her with a smirk.

"Make sure you leave a couple buttons undone at the top," he said, handing her a purple blouse that she loved.

"How about you stop wearing this granny underwear," he said, tossing some older pairs aside, "It'll be fun to know you're wearing something sexy underneath your clothes."

"Heels," he said, "Why don't you go the week only wearing heels?"

All of it was acceptable, because all of it came from him.

And then came the day's outfit.

Well, outfits.

She told him that she would need to go to the store for groceries later that day, which Joey gave her permission to put on a pair of sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt, of course with heels. But for now, in the apartment, with Joey's own mother in the kitchen, Joey picked out something very different.

To be honest, she'd forgotten that she had it. Tucked in the back of her closet, in a folded up paper bag, a costume she'd worn in college, one Halloween when she was feeling particularly daring. She knew it would be taboo, but three of her friends had worn the same thing.

"We'll be a matching set!" Christine had giggled when they saw them in the store.

Of course, they'd received some looks. How could they not? Three young, beautiful student teachers dressed as fetishized schoolgirls? They'd certainly turned heads.

Joey had opened the bag, eyes wide in seeing what was inside, and handed it to her immediately, along with the pair of high-heeled Mary-Janes sitting next to it. Wordlessly, Eliza took her assigned outfit with her and went to have a shower to clean herself up for the day.

She nodded to Donna as she crossed to clean herself up. The older woman was taking a sip from a steaming cup, eyes following her as she moved, knowing, calculating.

Eliza didn't waste time. The selection of that particular outfit could only mean one thing: Joey wanted her. Her shower was quick, skipping her hair, she efficiently scrubbed herself clean, paying close attention to the parts that Joey would pay close attention to. Water off, towel off, she hurriedly applied her body lotion, her makeup, and then got dressed. It fit just like before, only this time instead of feeling exposed, she felt excited. Her man had told her to dress like this, and so it was as appropriate as any other outfit in her closet. Moreso, because it reflected a desire that Joey held.

And Eliza couldn't wait to fulfil that desire.

She opened the door.

No thought to Joey's mother who was still sitting at the kitchen island, Eliza beelined for the bedroom where her man would be waiting for her.

"Oh my God," he said, his jaw hanging open, as he drank in her image.

She didn't blame him. Eliza looked incredible.

Crossing the floor, hips rolling as she moved, she was soon in his arms.

"Do you like it, sir?" Eliza asked in a sweet, innocent voice, "I think I may have been naughty in class and I might need some discipline."

"Oh my God," Joey repeated, this time barely a whisper.

There was a noise behind her. The door had creaked open to reveal Donna, standing in the doorframe, wearing only a matching black bra and panties.

"You two lovebirds weren't thinking of starting without me, were you?"

"Oh my God," Joey said a third time, eyes darting back and forth between the two women, this time his voice barely registering in Eliza's ears.