The Breaded Applicant

The Prince had been out of the pen about a month, and staying in my apartment for less than a week. The Covid lockdown had just hit. I was temporarily out of work, and spending all my time at home. The Prince was still going into his job, as I spent my days cooking, cleaning and doing whatever I thought would make his life more comfortable.

That evening The Prince came through the door and as had become routine I greeted him with a cold beer. “Here you go babe, how was work?”

“It was fine,” he said.

“I did a grocery run today. I spent around $300.”

“Did you get everything we need? I have a friend who’s a butcher and another is a baker. I can bring home meats and beads, just tell me what you want.”

My eyes lit up, “Meat for sure! The stores are only letting you buy two at a time. Get any meat you can. I only eat chicken and fish, but if things get really bad, I’ll eat whatever we can get.”

Like the rest of the world had been at the time, I was trying to stock up on necessities. Though I certainly wasn’t one of those toilet paper assholes!

“Okay, I’ll call my friends and see if I can pick it up after work tomorrow,” he said.

“You are awesome! Thank you. I also stopped at Target today. I bought you a couple pair of work pants.”

“Why would you do that?” his tone suddenly shifted.

“Because you said you needed them, and I was already there so…”

“I told you not to spend money on me! “

“I know, but you also said you needed them.”

“Asterisk, you have to learn to listen to me! If I tell you not buy me anything, don’t buy me anything!” The Prince shook his head, “I’m going to sit outside for a while. I need to be alone.”

The Prince took his phone and beer, then headed out to sit on my patio for an hour. I gave him the space he needed and worked on the dinner I had been preparing. Once it was set to a simmer, I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the couch.

Eventually Princy Poo made his way back inside, and took a seat on the small sofa across from me, yet he didn’t say a word.

“Are you hungry?” I finally asked him.

“I’ll eat later. I’m not in a good mood.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No!”

The Prince remained grim most of the evening. He didn’t say much to me, but what he did wasn’t pleasant. I could tell he wanted to leave, but just didn’t have a better place to go.

“Do you mind if I turn on the TV?” I asked.

“I don’t care. Do what you want.”

In an attempt to lighten things up a bit, I snatched the remote, and turned on The Simpsons. I knew it was one of his favorite shows, because I’d sent him about six of their comic books after he requested them in jail. My little trick worked, and after a while The Prince started laughing at the characters. Soon, he was back to his cordial, drunken self.

We went to bed that night at our regular time. Once we were under the covers, I rolled towards him and began running my nails down his back.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he spat out, sounding like someone who had just been robbed.

His sudden return to “the dark side,” caught me off guard. I flung to the opposite side of my king-sized bed and rested my body against the cold wall.

My startled response must have awakened The Prince’s sadism, because faster, and more magnetic than a lightening bolt, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back towards him. Once I was facing his way, he pushed his enormous erection onto my leg and grabbed me by the throat. He opened his mouth and pressed his lips firmly around mine, his mouth remained open, but he didn’t kiss me. As he rolled on top of me, he parted my legs and forced himself inside. His domination turned me on and I was immediately wet. He began thrusting himself inside of me, as his lips remained planted firmly around my own. There was nothing romantic about it. Actually, it felt like at that moment he was holding himself back from literally eating off my face. Within minutes, we had both orgasmed. The Prince rolled me to the side of the bed, and then excused himself to shower. While he was away, I fell asleep. When I awoke the following morning, he had already gone to work.

That next day The Prince arrived home with four giant bags of groceries.

“Wow, what’s that?” I asked as he made his way through the front door.

“I went to visit my friend, the baker. I told her to give me the best breads.”

“Holy shit! What are we going to do with all that?” I asked as I started emptying the bags. I removed the loaves one by one. There were French, sourdough, organic wheat, and some kinds I’d never even heard of. My small counter was covered just from one bag alone. I looked over to the remaining three wondering where I would put them.

“I have to go back to my car, there are more.”

I watched in horror as he left the apartment to retrieve the rest of his supply. It already was more than I could store, and I noticed the majority of it was organic. It wouldn’t last long on my counter, so I opened up the freezer and shoved in as many loaves as I could fit.

Soon he was back with two more bags. Noting my expression he said, “Take some to your family and give some to your friends.”

“Alright.” I picked up my phone and sent a text to my friend Bubble, asking if she could use some.

“There is still more in my trunk. I’m going to give them to my boss.”

“Okay.” I was careful not to say too much about it. After the night before, I wasn’t looking to set him off.

“Asterisk, I’m going to put in an apartment application today. It’s not because of you. I already told you, I want to be with you, I just need a place to put my things that I can call ‘my own,’ do you understand?”

“I know, I get it.” Even though that had been the plan all along, it still saddened me that he was in a hurry to leave.

The Prince noted my expression. “I told you my staying here was only temporary. If I get a place I will still spend all my time with you. I’ll be here every night just the same.”

“I understand.” Changing the subject I added, “I just texted Bubble, she’s going to swing by real fast to pick up some bread.”

“That’s fine, give some to Bubble, there’s plenty.” The Prince sat down at my kitchen table and started working on an apartment application as I prepared a bag of baked goods for my friend. Once Bubble had messaged she was on her way, I took the contents over to Princy Poo for his approval. I opened up the bag to show him what was inside.

“Are these okay to give her?”

The Prince looked up at me with a glare so cold it felt like I was being shot with bullets. “I don’t care what you give Bubble.”

“Okay.” An incoming text message chimed from my phone at the same time. My friend had just arrived, I took the loaves downstairs.

After a quick chat with Bubble, I returned to the Apartment. The Prince was standing in the dining room with his arms crossed over his chest. I ignored his intimidating posture. “Bubble said, ‘thank you’ for the bread.”

“Asterisk, what did I tell you?”

“About what?” I asked.

“You think this is a game?”

“What are you taking about?” I giggled, I had no clue as why he was upset.

“Oh, you think you are funny?”

“No. What did I do?” I asked.

“You know what you did! I told you I needed to fill out an application. You came over to interrupt me, and you ask me a dumb question about your friend! I told you you could give her the bread, so why did you ask me again?”

“Ohhhh… I interrupted you… When you said you needed to ‘fill it out,’ what you meant by that was: ‘don’t bother me for a few minutes.’ No problem, I didn’t realize. Next time just say that. Tell me to leave you alone for a bit and I will, I get it.”

“No! You aren’t stupid, you knew exactly what you were doing!”

I laughed, “Honestly, I didn’t. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t give Bubble anything you really liked.”

“You laugh at me? You think this is a joke?” he asked.

“This relationship is still new and we come from different cultures. I’m still learning. But I’m going to need you to be more direct with me next time. Tell me bluntly what you need, I’m not good with ‘hints.'” I explained.

“You think you can manipulate me? You don’t listen to what I tell you. You think that by cooking, and buying me pants that you can trick me into staying with you. I’m not stupid. I know what you are doing. I know how women are!”

I started laughing harder. I couldn’t help it, it was a mix of both the ridiculousness of the conversation and stress on my nerves. Sure I wanted him to stay, but by no means would I ever try to force someone to be with me.

The Prince didn’t see it that way at all. Had he of been a locomotive, steam would have been projecting out of his nose.

He strudded over to the dining room table, grabbed his wallet, keys, and apartment application and stormed out of the front door.

Several hours later, I was surprised by his return. He wandered in like nothing had happened. I was in the kitchen, putting away the last of the dinner.

“Is there any beer?” he asked.

“Yeah, in the fridge. I’ll get you one.”

“I can get my own.”

“Okay.”

Princy Poo grabbed his beverage and went into the living room, taking his regular place on the couch. After I finished in the kitchen, I joined him with a refreshment of my own.

“I turned in the application,” he said.

“That’s great! How did it go?”

“He told me I could have the apartment.”

“Cool,” I said, with forced enthusiasm.

“He’s an asshole!” The Prince said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I told him that I would not take it!'”

“You did?” I asked, “Why?”

“He wanted me to pay three times the amount of the deposit. He told me he saw that I had an eviction and bad credit so he wanted me to pay three times more than other people pay!”

“Yeah, that’s usually what they do. That’s to be expected. But he’s giving you a chance, so that’s great.”

“No! I don’t want ‘his chance!’ He thinks he’s better than me. I told him that he disrespected me and I wouldn’t take anything from him.”

“Well, fuck him then!” I shouted.

“That’s what I told him!”

“Listen, it just wasn’t the right place for you. Don’t worry, when things don’t work out there is usually a reason, it just means there is something better out there for you.” I said. “You’ll find something great! I’m sure of it.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely! You’ll get the perfect apartment at the right time. I know you hate living here because it isn’t yours, but you are welcome to stay as long as you need. You are safe, you aren’t in jail,” I looked to his hand, “And there’s cold beer…”

The Prince let out a little laugh. “True.”

“Can I get you another?” I asked.

“Please.”

L’écriture est douloureuse, mais le rire guérit.

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