A Kept Woman(3)

By: Daryl Devore

“I love you dearly Arianne, but I can’t afford the rent on my own. And I cannot afford to feed you. Guess I start looking for a paying roommate. Or you could beg a loan off mommy and daddy. What about unemployment?” Arianne sighed. Taylor bent down, picked up the newspaper and tossed it at her. “Keep looking for a job.”

She missed one section of the paper, but managed to catch the second. It was the personal ads. “Here’s a job for me. Woman wanted. Apply to e-box twenty four. I’m a woman. So I’m qualified for that one.”

Taylor’s cell phone went off. He flipped it open and started chatting. Arianne wandered into the kitchen and peered into the cupboards. When nothing suited her fancy, she pulled open the freezer door. One microwave chicken meal sat alone. She grabbed it, tossed it into Taylor’s microwave and pressed cook.

Entering the kitchen, doing-up the last button on his shirt, Taylor handed Arianne his tie. “I have to go out. Are you going to be alright?”

After running the silk material through her fingers and reveling in the sensation, Arianne flipped it over his neck, adjusted the length and began to tie a Windsor knot. “Hold still. Yea, I’m fine. Just needed to bitch for a moment. I’m not depressed over Kyle. Just annoyed. There.” She patted the knot. “Fashion check.”

Her tall and uber-fashionably dressed roommate then displayed his best runway walk across their tiny kitchen and dramatically posed by the door. “Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful.”

Arianne chuckled. “Yes, you are more beautiful than me. That Scandinavian blond hair of yours I’d kill for. It should be illegal for a man to have eye lashes as long as yours. Your fashion sense makes me look like a bag lady and an extra twenty pounds on that butt wouldn’t make it look fat. Go. Get out of here before I fall into a deeper and darker depression.”

After two quick cheek kisses, Taylor exited and Arianne returned to watching the numbers count down on the microwave’s timer—knocking the seconds off her miserable failure of a life. She reached for the mail pile on the kitchen table; four unpaid bills, all for her, and not a postcard or a letter from anyone. She pushed the message button on the answering machine—seven messages—all for Taylor. I exist to no one except bill collectors. I suck.

Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a partially filled bottle of wine. Hey, some white. I’m having chicken. Taylor won’t mind. Turning, she opened a cupboard and grabbed a large coffee mug. Near the toaster was a bottle of red wine with a wine stopper in it. Pre-dinner drink. What a great idea. After pouring the red wine into the coffee mug, she swallowed a few large mouthfuls, topped up her mug and carried both bottles into the living room. Returning to the kitchen, she grabbed her supper, carried the hot plastic tray to her seat on the couch.

Picking up the remote with one hand and the coffee mug with the other, she alternated between surfing channels and sipping wine. She stopped at two naked females passionately exploring each other’s body. Blankly staring at the screen she finished the bottle of red wine, consumed her precooked, fast-frozen meal in a container and had changed to white wine, without noticing the difference. Tossing the empty dish onto the coffee table, the fork bounced off and landed on the newspaper. She bent down to pick it up. The ad she had read to Taylor caught her eye. “What the hell.” She picked her laptop up off the coffee table, typed in the website then clicked on e-box twenty four.

Hi. I’m Derek. I’m looking for a woman. I don’t want a girlfriend or a lover. Just a mutually sexually satisfying companion. The work will be minimal and the pay will be excellent. If interested email me your name, an introduction - 100 words or less - and a photo to entice me to hire you.

Arianne drank her wine and stared at the laptop screen for fifteen minutes while she had a mental debate. The “yes” voice in her head won out. The wine may have helped. She linked the digital camera to the computer then walked to her room and stripped. She stood in front of the small mirror and tried to choose her sexiest pose. Having chosen the conservative one of standing with her hands at her sides, legs spread apart; Arianne positioned herself in front of the camera and clicked the trigger. In a moment the picture appeared on the screen.

Appraising her body, Arianne smiled - soft curves, ample breasts and a neatly trimmed puff of hair below her belly button. It was a sexy body, not ravishing like a movie star’s, but it had enticed a few of the male gender. With some careful editing she deleted the background of the picture until all she had was a naked, headless picture of herself. She attached the photo to an email and began to type her message.

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