Set Up For The Week

Joey was spent. He lay recovering with his head resting on a pillow that held a hint of fruity scent, resting on a bed that his history teacher insisted belonged to him. He was naked in a room with two beautiful women, both of whom kept darting their eyes to him appreciatively, both of whom were responsible of his exhaustion.

Well, the partially responsible.

The past few days had been revelatory for the young man. Not only had he never been with a woman before, but he'd never even kissed one until that week. Now, thanks to the power that somehow imbued itself into his very words, Joey Granger found himself with multiple women every day. Women far out of his league. Women that, in all honestly, he had no business being with.

Donna, his mother, was fixing her lip gloss in the mirror. She had redressed in her sexy-but-professional power suit, something he'd seen her wear dozens of times before. Now, however, the top few buttons of her blouse were left undone, her hips rolled sensually in that tight skirt, and she looked at him like she hoped he'd ask her to take it off again, he saw it in a new light. Donna wasn't dressing that way to be respected. She was dressing that way to be desired.

And Eliza, his history teacher, still wearing her schoolgirl costume, was on her knees straightening a rug. She seemed to be comfortable on her knees now. Waiting on him. Serving him. Pleasing him. He'd always had a crush on her. How could he not? She was young, hot, and unapproachable. That was a recipe for attraction for a guy like Joey. She was stern, she was firm, she was demanding, and most of all she did not like Joey Granger. Well, until a few days ago. Now he was all she could think about.

And while Joey himself would have said that it seemed like the plot of some sort of online porn story, to him it was so much more. He loved these two women. Loved. Deeply. Intensely. Profoundly.

And not just them. Madison. Aynsley. Bianca. Juniper. Perhaps even Indira. These women were important to him. They had helped him unlock parts of his heart that he had locked away to protect himself from hurt, from rejection. All his life he had been told that he was one type of person, that he should lower his expectations, that it was his fault that he was unloved.

And now the world had changed. And he hoped it never went back.

Still, life went on. And Joey — exhausted as he felt — had responsibilities now.

Joey groaned as he rolled out of bed and padded toward the washroom to take a shower. He brushed off Eliza's requests to join him as he went. As arousing as it sounded, he'd already taken a shower with one of his girls that day, and what he needed was time to recover. And so Joey took his time, allowing the hot water to wash away the stiffness. He was going to have to get in better shape if his life was going to be like this from now on. Maybe he'd have to ask his dad for advice on working out the next time he saw him.

Once he was clean, he dressed in the clothes he'd worn that morning, the clothes Aynsley had picked out for him. And then it was to work. Joey didn't want to get into a situation like he had the other day where he'd left Eliza without direction. She was stubbornly refusing to deviate from her 'utter submission' plan with him, and so he took some time to sit with her and go over everything she needed. As they worked, her lists grew in size and neatness, scrawled in her meticulous cursive on yellow lined pads.

"Clothing inventory. Modesty checklists. Budgeting. Nutrition schedule," she had murmured, tapping the end of her pen to her lips, almost reverent. "Joey, do you think I should ask your permission before buying anything over twenty dollars?"

He hadn't even thought about that. But the way she'd looked at him, eyes shining — she wanted to need him. She found peace in it.

"You should, uh, message me before you eat," he had said instead, slowly, trying to play the part. "And I want to see a picture of anything you try on before you buy it."

She had written that down like it was law.

Once they were done, once he was sure she would be set for the week, Donna informed him that it was time to go. At the door, Eliza looked radiant. Still flushed from their morning, but dressed properly again. Pale blouse tucked into a pleated skirt. Stockings. Modest heels. Red hair tied up in a ponytail. The tiniest smudge of gloss. It was reminiscent of her costume that morning. Of their sexual adventure, but she would wear it out without turning too many heads.

Joey cupped her cheek as they kissed goodbye. She melted into him like she'd been waiting for it all day, one hand curled at her collar like she was holding herself together.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, lips brushing his jaw. "I can't wait to see you tomorrow in class. I promise I'll pretend, like you said, that I'm not completely and utterly in love with you."

Something in his chest tightened. His heart stuttered, then surged.

He didn't say anything. Just kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand tightening in her hair until she whimpered softly. Then he stepped back.

Donna was already holding the door open. "You keep kissing her like that, and we'll never get lunch," she teased lightly.

Joey took Donna's hand, warm and dry in his own, and they started down the stairs together. The building smelled like dust and shampoo and leftover takeout. Sunlight spilled through the frosted window on the landing.

He couldn't stop smiling.

They pushed out into the Sunday air. It was beautiful — blue sky, birdsong, and that rich, early warmth that hinted at summer.

And then, a voice — sharp, feminine, and electrified with recognition:

"There! He has it! It's in him!"