October 1, 2012 by Lyn
Saturday, September 27, 2003, after dinner
“See you tomorrow at breakfast, Hera.” Brenna was gripping Noam’s hand tight enough to bruise. He felt like there were tiny needles pricking into his palm, and wondered if she was drawing blood.
He wasn’t going to say a damn thing about it. She was, however indirectly, standing up to Hera.
Or not indirectly. Hera couldn’t take a hint if it hit her in the face.
“Well, sure, after movie time. What do you want to watch tonight?”
Peace offering? It wasn’t going to be enough. Please don’t let it be enough.
“I want to talk to Noam.” Hunh, maybe the movies were preferable.
“Isn’t that what night-time is for?” Hera sneered. “Besides, he doesn’t have anything interesting to say.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hera.” She opened the door to her room, and pushed Noam inside. He didn’t fight it. Brenna was standing up for herself. He’d lay down and let her walk on him if it helped.
“I never should have gotten you him!”
“Maybe not. Maybe I should have gotten him for myself. But he’s mine, now, and I want to spend some time alone with him.” She stepped over her threshold, pushing Noam further into her room. “I like you, Hera, but that doesn’t mean I need to spend every moment with you.”
“You.” Hera snarled up at Noam. “You little shit, you’re taking her away from me. You’re poisoning her. Just wait until she gets bored, little man. I won’t forget this.”
“That’s my Kept you’re talking to.” Brenna didn’t manage to keep her voice calm, but Noam gave her credit for saying it at all. “An extension of me, right, Hera?”
Hera sputtered. Noam didn’t smile, although it took Herculean effort not to. “Come on Bren, cut it out! You know I didn’t mean…”
“The problem is, you always mean it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hera.” She stepped further into her room and closed the door with a resounding thump.
Noam counted to himself. This was going to go south one of three different ways in the next three, two, one…
“Oh, sh-ee-sheepturds.” Brenna grabbed onto him with both hands and hid her face against his chest. “Monkey-possum, Noam, what did I do and why did I do it?”
He had to handle this one like a minotaur with a toothache: really, really carefully. He needed a natural 20 on his charisma roll. “I think.” Wonderful start there. “It sounded to me like you wanted some time to, ah, try out your present, without onlookers.”
That might not have been the best tack. “Oh!” She blushed and turned her head away, though she was still holding on to him. “Did you think…?”
“That’s up to you, Brenna. You said ‘talk.’ If what you want to do is talk, I like talking to you.”
“You’re humoring me.”
“I belong to you. That’s my job. Anticipate your wishes and do what you want.” He kept his voice calm and very level. He was getting very good at that one. Any change in voice tended to freak her out. “I’m yours.” He held his hands out, palm-up.
“You’re mine.” It still sent a shiver up his spine. And she was smiling, although it was very cautious. “I wouldn’t mind… trying you out, if you wanted. But I think you might, ah, want…”
“It’s okay,” he assured her quickly. “Whatever you want.”
“Some things have to be about what you want, too.” His hands were still outstretched. She put her hands into his, holding on firmly. Slowly, she started backing towards the bed, pulling him with her. “You have to know who I am before you can decide if you want to be in my bed with me.”
This outtake was written in response to Rix’s donation and request for “more Brenna.”
For every $5US donated, I will write 300 words on the character or situation of your choice. In addition, every donation will bring you to a small snippet of story – a new snippet every Wednesday!