Her question stupefies my senses, was she expecting me to die, “ it's was a joke Sinclair “ I stutter out as the scene of her srabhing the hell out of me comes back to my mind she's a psycho and I know it.
“ don't joke around”
“Noted” she concluded, moving hurriedly on the sheets, the deem light from the lamp just beside my bed shines slowly on her face, reflecting the endless stream of tears pooling down the corner of her eyes, her nostrils slightly wet, with a dent of red as well.
“ how does the murder of your ex fuck boy make a sex queen like you honor my bed with your presense” I know it sounds poetic to an extent but I would have said something similar seeing queen Elizabeth in my bed.
“ seeing you on the stripping stage brought back memories”
“ of good or evil?” I had to ask, Sinclair wasn't so good outside this building, and in this room, she's a bossy, ruthless, dominant sex queen, rumors had it that she wrecked a whole company because a share holder didn't acknowledge her presence.
So having her in my bed brings more bad than good, “ it brought back bad… And good memories” she said, slightly rubbing her nostril on my bed.
“I don't know, and I am scared of knowing, “but why did you decide to come to my room?”, all theses shouldn't concern me in anyway, “ because I couldn't sleep”
“ and since when did my presence becomes an antidote “
“ you don't talk to your mistress that way?” she says in a bossy manner, making me hate her even more, someone like her knows no one, or cares for no man, all she knows is herself, all this emotional black mail to make me less angry?, it isn't working. I was the one objectified.
“ yea, I apologize my Queen, but with all due respect people like you, care for no one but yourself, and you can punish me all you want I don't care anymore”
The turmoil settling in my heart slowly elevated, and it's taking every part of my resistance, she must have done the emotional game with all her submissives that's why they couldn't handle her addictive surge to be fucked all the time.
The living room was just perfect to stay away from the psycho woman, and all her whining about murdering her love, who cares?.
Looking at the digital wall clock is 2:36 already, I should be resting from all the banging, mouth fucking and body wiping, sleep Martin, you have a stupid day ahead of you.
*****************************
I wake up to industrial noises, I thought it was a dream but dreams don't last that long, what is Sinclair up to?.
Walking towards the kitchen, I see Sinclair standing close to the kitchen island, with white powder all over her face, and some dough on the floor, some shells in them as well, what the fuck is she trying to do?.
Cook?.
The frustration in the air is way too intense to ignore, she's beating a dough up for no reason at all, she's doing It the wrong way.
“ ahhhhs!” she throws it up in the air, then it meets its fate once more, slamming the tied floor, she presses her temples with her index fingers then covers her face with her palm, “ what is she trying to do?” I had to ask, because whatever she thinks she's found she's not going it well.
With a bandaged hand.
I stand there observing, she takes her tablet, watching a video again, which I mentally tell myself, could be the source of her pain, she measure a cup full of flour followed by another then another.
Then placing it all in a mixer, she breaks some eggs as well, is it a cake?I see her taking some banana slices as well. Is she trying to make a banana cake or bread?.
“Aaagg” she screams as the mixer stops working, well that’s fucked up, “ what the fuck am I doing wrong christ!” She cries out in frustration, as she tosses the mixer on the floor. Shards of plastic found a new position on the floor, well that’s nice.
“ you can laugh all you want” she hiss, making her way out of the kitchen, “ hey calm down mami, I could help you out”
“ I don’t care” she barks, well that was harsh, I see her throw her aprons on the floor, then walks towards her room, well that is nice, the pumpus lady has anger issues well that’s not new.
*************************
The kitchen door opens, and Sinclair walks in, her hands wrapped on her chest, even when she trying her best to look cocky, I could see right through her.
“ weldone” she says,
“ thanks your royal highness” she smirks at.
“ where did you learn how to prepare all this?”
“ my grandmother,used to own a bakery back in Chicago”
“ uhm, nice” she walks over to one of my cup cakes, shoves ones in her mouth, “ nice” she mumbled through stuffed mouth, “ all thanks to Maggie”
Dressed in nothing but shorts, I continued icing the cupcakes, the banana bread were laying stagnant on the shelf, and the pizzas, well, the aroma could tell that it’s just fine.
“ she picks up another cupcake, then followed by a Piece of freshly cut pizza, silly how I had stood for hours baking and she’s doing the eating, well I guess that’s were the satisfaction lays.
“ up for a quickie Martin?” She asked, making my eyes pop, I would never know what’s really going on in her head, fuck!.