You sit at the end of the bed and I lay with my eyes on the slight patch of mould growing slowly from the corner of my room. I think of the emails once a week from the landlord, reminding me to air the house and keep the heating on. I do, trust me, I do all of these things but the mould keeps growing like my love for you. The problem then is that my love for you is rotten and damp and unwanted by everyone, especially the landlord. You need to get dressed, you tell me, but I ignore your words. Why I ask, is mould all that bad? You tell me that it’s spores and that they’ll ruin my lungs and I wonder – what is so bad about that? Come on, babe, you have to get dressed. You get up from the bed with your cock still half hard and with a new scratch on your back as red as my cheeks. You reach down to my sock drawer and throw me a pair.
They’re stripey and have dogs on the toes and I laugh because your sister got me these and they’re so comfy but it feels weird having you throw them at me when I’m naked. I’m sure she probably didn’t imagine them being used quite like this. No, I tell you, I don’t want to get dressed. Come back to bed.
You push me to the side of the bed and the duvet comes with me, revealing the stained sheets underneath. You pull on my hand to make me sit up but I don’t, so you pull on my leg to make me move but I still don’t. I can see that you want to tickle me to scare me out of bed, but I can see that you’re also scared because your cock is vulnerable and my feet are cold and ready to hit. So you pick up the socks that landed between my breasts and you pull the pair apart from each other like me from you when this ecstasy dies and you hold the back of my ankle like you’re holding baby Toby again and you unfurl the sock onto my right foot. I giggle and twitch and you twitch too. Don’t you kick me, you threat, or I’ll kick you right back. Yeah right, I tell you, like you would do that. I know where your mother lives. I know where yours lives too. He pulls the socks up my legs as high as he can before he can see my nails stressing the fabric and he lets go. See, he says, now you’re part dressed. You’ve started, he mimics the guy from mastermind, so I’ll let you finish. I take the second sock and throw it off the bed. No, I don’t want to get dressed. Come back to bed.
This piece was inspired by a writing prompt given to me by a tutor, asking me to free write a scene wherein one character tries to put another character’s socks on. A weird prompt, but I enjoyed the result.