“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Gary shouted to Lucy
who was peeling potatoes in the kitchen.
“No, I’m better off alone, just make yourself comfortable,”
Lucy called back. Gary didn’t quite know how to feel. Here he was a modern man
letting a woman wait on him hand and foot. He tried to help, but she just
wouldn’t let him. He knew he should feel guilty, but part of him, the 1970’s
man that lurked somewhere beneath the metrosexual surface, rather enjoyed it.
“Can I use your PC to check my emails?”
“Can’t you use your phone?”
“My battery’s dead.”
“Go on then.”
Gary picked up the laptop and brought it to life. Lucy had
left Instagram on the screen. Which was odd because Gary didn’t even know Lucy
had an account. They’d been dating five months; he followed her on twitter, and
they were ‘in a relationship’ on Facebook, but she’d kept her Instagram quiet.
The page in front of him was of a woman in vintage underwear; hundreds of snaps
of different underwear but always the same figure; sometimes selfies, sometimes
taken by another hand. Basques, corsets, stockings, suspenders and very high
heels; it was a bewildering array of outfits - the only thing missing was the
face. Why was Lucy looking at a woman
called BunnyRabbit? Did she have lesbian tendencies? Sometimes the penny
doesn’t drop because you don’t want to let it go. It was only when he looked up
to the right corner of the page and saw the name BunnyRabbit that Gary realised
he was looking at Lucy. Lucy was BunnyRabbit. BunnyRabbit was Lucy. Lucy was posing
for and posting pictures of her self semi-nude.
Gary sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. He
screwed up his fists; he felt he was sharing his woman with the rest of the
world. Didn’t exclusive extend to the
World Wide Web? But that wasn’t all; the last pic was dated just two days ago
and was clearly not a selfie. Who on earth was taking pictures of Lucy in the
nearly nude? She said she’d not been feeling well two days ago. Well she looked
well enough in the photo. And why hadn’t she told him? Why didn’t he know she
had this vintage underwear collection? He’d never seen it; never been treated
to its delights. She looked delicious, but she’d kept it from him. He felt like
she’d been unfaithful to him.
But was he being unreasonable. It wasn’t like she was seeing
anyone else; she was just showing everyone else. And after all he didn’t tell her
everything, although he didn’t have secrets quite as big as this. Gary looked
at the pictures again. She looked great and he wasn’t the only one to think so.
Gosh BunnyRabbit had quite the vocal following, and she was quite the online
flirt. He felt his blood boil as he read some of the comments.
He stood up and went into the kitchen.
“Any emails,” Lucy said without looking around, but Gary
didn’t’ reply. Instead he just picked up the knife that was on the side and
took a step towards her.
The knife felt good in his hand and her back looked so
inviting. He could feel the rage simmering inside. It would be so easy to… But
then a waft of sauce caught his nostrils; he looked at the pan bubbling on the
stove. It looked as good as it smelt. He put the knife down; maybe he could
forgive her just this once.
I've been accused of plagiarism, luckily it was my own story I plagiarised.
Everybody knows a woman must have her little secrets in order to remain mysterious and attractive for her man:-) so she is just putting this into practice... oh, and I absolutely love the ending:-)
ReplyDelete' He tried to help, but she just wouldn’t let him. He knew he should feel guilty, but part of him, the 1970’s man that lurked somewhere beneath the metrosexual surface, rather enjoyed it..... The knife felt good in his hand and her back looked so inviting. He could feel the rage simmering inside. It would be so easy to… But then a waft of sauce caught his nostrils; he looked at the pan bubbling on the stove. It looked as good as it smelt. He put the knife down; maybe he could forgive her just this once. '
ReplyDelete