27 Apr Quarantine and Chill: Chapter Five.

This is a Science-Fiction Story and a complete work of fiction, meant entirely for entertainment. I write these stories as writing practice.

The next day:

I was working on a project in the backyard when I saw my woman approaching me from the peripheral of my eye. She handed me a beer, seductively looked me in the eyes and sweetly said, “I’m still mad at you.”

I chugged the beer in front of her while I stared her in the eyes and then threw the bottle in the trashcan that was approximately 20 feet away, “What else is new?” I followed my statement up with a loud burp.

I could tell that she was impressed with my shot by her sudden change in body language and then she continued to impose, “What are you doing anyway?”

I spoke with an unperturbed confidence in what I was doing, “I’m building a frame for the door.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, which I’ve noticed that she only does when she’s intrigued yet confused, “Why would you do that?”

I made my hypothesis sound scientific, “I was reading that it could potentially be a metaphysical sign, a gift of entry some might say.”

She looked at me like I was utterly crazy, “Where exactly did you read that?”

I gave her an annoyed look, the type of look you give someone when they’re asking too many questions and said, “The internet.”

She let out a deep sigh, “Are you sure this is necessary?”

I turned towards her and looked at her in a way that I knew that she knew that I was being serious, “You see the door laying there on the living room floor, right?”

She reluctantly said, “Yes.”

I took out my phone and showed her a picture I took, “I took a picture of the floor, the door is not there. So you tell me who is crazy.”

She looked at the picture and was pleasantly surprised, “Wow.”

I picked up the handsaw from off of the table, “Exactly,” and started sawing.

Her voice was nostalgically higher-pitched, which she does when she starts getting excited, “Why aren’t you using the electric saw that I bought for you?”

I added a slight southern drawl to my voice and said, “The damn thing ain’t behaving properly. It ain’t working good.”

She softly murmured, “Maybe you should try talking to it nicely.”

I continued with my obviously forced southern accent, “I tried. I even took it apart. The damn thing won’t turn on.”

She fanned the air like she was trying to cool herself off, “Interesting…”

I continued sawing. I could tell that she was starting to get turned on because I caught her staring at my dilsnick.

She watched me work for a few minutes before she abruptly asked, “So what are you going to do once you’re done?”

I smiled as a bead of sweat fell to the ground, “I’m going to enter.”

Her spirit turned adventurous, “May I go with you?”

I temporarily stopped sawing and gave her a sultry kiss on her lips, “Darling, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I playfully gripped her ass and then resumed sawing.

She sat there, in silence, for a few hours as she watched me meticulously put together the frame, piece by piece, entirely from scratch. I think that she rather enjoyed watching me build stuff, whether it was carpenter oriented or art creation.

Before I hammered together the last piece, I looked at her as serious as I possibly could and said, “How come you only getting thottie as a hobby recently? You used to be a full-time thot towards me.”

She laughed more authentically than I have heard her laugh before, “I’m not even sure what that means…”

I flexed my triceps in front of her so she could see how strong I am, then I spoke from my ego, “This is the way I see it shorty, every day, every single day, every moment I’m constantly trying to find ways to keep winning you over, whereas your thottie levels keep decreasing towards me everyday. That can only mean one thing; you’re getting too comfortable with my love. You should be trying to win me over just as much and equally as often.”

Her mood drastically changed, “Oh. Okay, so you don’t think I’m sexy anymore.” She shrugged then continued, “Suddenly I find myself getting mad at you again.”

I tried to commandeer the inherent drama that was about to unfold, “So why you was watching me flex like you was getting amused?”

She smiled, “Who else am I supposed to look at? We’re in quarantine, can’t go anywhere.”

I animated my performance like I was an actor in a play, “How do you think I feel? I’m stuck here with my mistress…”

She rolled her eyes like she was looking for something to say, “So are you done with that stupid frame or what?”

I took the hammer and nailed the last nail with one fierce strike, it made a sound that I am sure gave her pleasant chills, “Now it is.”

She fanned the air again and submissively whispered, “Should I go get the door?”

“Yes,” I said, “the lock should also be inserted in it. Are you sure you can carry it?”

She seemed offended with my question because she placed one of her hands on her hips, which is what girls do when they’re trying to showcase some attitude, “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She started to walk away, but looked back and said, “You’re also not that handsome, I just wanted to make sure that you knew that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched her walk inside.

*To Be Continued In Chapter Six*