This dills my pickle.
It was a saying his grandmother used to say all of the time whenever something irritated her. Even still to this day, she would casually mention the old Southern antidote whenever someone or something bothered her. She never really got angry enough to take action and the Southern saying was more of a casual annoyance than pure frustration.
It summed up Scott’s life at that moment.
Scott stood on the curb of his home and studied his front lawn. There were weeds growing out. He was going to need to cut his grass soon. Maybe now that the circus was gone, he would be able to do so.
No news vans.
No gossiping neighbors.
No supposed friends of his giving interviews on what they think went on.
It was just peaceful and quiet.
He took pride in cutting his grass. Sure, he could’ve hired a gardener and probably would’ve saved a lot of heartache, headache, and bullshit while doing so. But he liked the peace and tranquility of cutting his own grass. Maybe it was because that was his chore he had to do when he was younger, growing up in Decatur. Both of his parents had money and were well to-do. But one thing Andrew and Deborah Reed had taught Scott was he was his own man. No matter how many people came and went out of his life, no one would know his home better than him.
He was glad his flowerbeds remained intact as with his white picket fence still being white. There were remnants of the paparazzi at his home. The once clean street had a few fast-food cups and papers floating against the curb. Some of the neighbor’s lawns were trampled, probably from overzealous news reporters hoping to get a good shot. He wondered exactly how long they stayed before they realized there wasn’t a story and there wasn’t going to be one.
As Scott opened the gate and walked up to the front door, he turned around and breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to be home, though it was only temporary. Maybe he could start living at his home again that week and return to work the next. He needed to get back to some form of normalcy.
When he entered the home, he saw his submissives, Dove and Aileen, waiting for him on the sofa. They both smiled and kneeled upon His arrival, with their eyes downcast. They both remained in that position until Scott instructed them to move. He loved that about the girls; no matter what He’d asked from them, they both submitted without hesitation or fight.
Mariana used to do that.
She used to fight it at first and Scott would be lying if it didn’t annoy the shit out of him. But he grew to love her tenacity and spunk. She cut back on the swearing and became classier, thinking carefully on how she wanted to convey her thoughts before she spoke. When they were in bed, however, Scott encouraged her to say all of the nasty and dirty thoughts. That wasn’t the place to be a classy woman if he wanted her to take and swallow his cock like a dirty whore.
She didn’t listen to so much hip-hop and appreciated soul music a lot more. Even her television choices had matured a little though Scott still cringed at the thought she thoroughly enjoyed Maury and whatever installment of Real Housewives and Love and Hip-Hop.
He truly loved her. He still loved her. He knew whatever children they had would favor her in looks and maybe a touch of her strong-willed personality. She was his world and he would’ve moved heaven and earth just to see her smile.
That was, until, he’d pushed her away.
While Scott would’ve loved to blame Caprina for the downfall of his relationship, he knew full and well he played a major role within it. He didn’t trust Mariana, though she never had a reason to lie. Instead, he punished her for Caprina’s sins and humiliated her on a level that was inconceivable.
Truth was, he didn’t deserve her and maybe, just maybe, B. was the better man for her. Damn it, there went his insecurities coming out. He didn’t have a reason to be insecure and had the lifestyle that most men – gay or straight – would envy. Mariana made him feel like he was on top of the world and all she did was say Good Morning.
He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a Blue Moon, opening it as he strolled his way to the sofa. He took a few long gulps as he sat, staring at the women before him. “You may come up.” He directed.
Dove and Aileen flanked Scott on the sofa and he wrapped his arms around them.
“Did you talk to her, Master?” Aileen asked.
Scott thought back to what happened earlier that evening. Oh he spoke to Mariana all right. She heard him loud and clear. “Yes, I did.”
“Where is she, Master? I thought she would be here?” Dove asked.
If Scott needed any clarification on how Mariana felt about him, he got it when he saw her leave with B. “She had a change of heart.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Master,” Aileen moved closer to her Dom and Dove followed. Aileen kissed Scott’s neck while Dove unbuckled His pants. They took turns kissing their Master while their hands explored His body, caressing His muscular chest and massaging the growing bulge in His slacks. She then stood up along with Dove and they both undressed each other.
“Is there anything we can do to take Your mind off things tonight, Master?” Dove asked.
Scott leaned back on his sofa, carefully sipping his beer as he admired the naked beauties before him. Their bodies were toned, their nipples were hardened, and Mariana was officially an after-thought. “Oh, I can think of a few things…”