Hearing the notification on his phone, Mr. Johnson stood up and mopped his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm. Taking a moment to catch his breath he surveyed the room as he crossed to the table his phone was charging on: just a few more finishing touches and it would be perfect. All the furniture was in position and after the tireless work he had put into the
‘Good morning, little boy,’ Mrs. Johnson smiled as Craig opened his eyes. She was laid out on the end of his pristine white bedsheets with a hungry look in her eye. Her pink stockings clung tightly to her slender legs, and she was wearing one of Mr. Johnson’s shirts – although to say she was wearing it might have been overstating it a little; it hung open to reveal her
The sound of the front door opening and closing sent Craig into overdrive. Every memory of Mr. Johnson seemed to jostle for position in his mind, though he was viewing them in an entirely new light. Instead of imagining his muscular arms wrapped around Mrs. Johnson beneath their covers, he was focused on what they might feel like around his chest; instead of thinking about his chiselled features glowering down
Craig was lounging in front of the TV screen, paying little attention to the crappy reality show blaring on as he scrolled through pictures of practically naked girls on his phone, when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Hauling himself lazily up, he glanced at the clock on his wall: 11.37. Fucking twenty to midnight. Furious at the distraction, he shuffled into the hallway to answer it.
