brought her food over to my station.
“You should just throw that away,” I told Keeley as she arranged her now-warmed-up slices of grapefruit and avocado.
The other contestants had actually collaborated, and their snacks were of much higher quality than Keeley’s and mine. I hated presenting anything that was less than perfect. It reflected badly on me.
Jonathan was waiting in the other room when we wheeled out our cart of snacks. He sauntered over, one hand in his pocket.
“Where’s your costume?” he asked me, a lazy smile on his face. It was clear he was thinking of only one thing.
“Some of us were busy baking.”
“I’m not too busy to dress up for you, Jonathan,” Keeley said, desperately throwing herself on him.
Jonathan inadvertently reached out to support her.
“Oops!” Keeley said with an obnoxious laugh. “It’s these heels! I don’t know how the women in the 1950s did it. Between the corset, all the petticoats, and the pumps, it’s like I’ve lost my head.”
“Uh-huh,” Jonathan said. He turned to me.
“Don’t pay any attention to her. Morticia refused to play along.”
I was still in my combat boots, black jeans, and a T-shirt that read “Witches vs. Patriarchy.”
“You didn’t want to dress up as a good little corporate wife,” Jonathan teased, his eyes heavy lidded. “I’d bet you’d look pretty hot in all the underwear.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Keeley said, lips pursed. “Morticia doesn’t have any junk in the back or the front. She’s just a string bean.”
“I will not debase myself for the male gaze,” I told him.
“Really?” Jonathan said, his eyes flicking to my shirt. “Because I’d be willing to debase myself for the female gaze.”
“Yes, please do,” Keeley begged.
Jonathan ignored her and reached for one of the oysters. “I was reading up on all that Wiccan stuff after you came and smoked out my living room. Turns out there are all sorts of rituals that center around sex.”
I tried to avoid looking at Keeley, whose eyes were boring into my head.
Jonathan tossed back the oyster. “Usually the female is on top.”
32
Jonathan
Morticia seemed intrigued, as I had known she would be. Unfortunately, the lust I was hoping to ignite did not lead to us fucking like reindeer in a storage closet somewhere.
I wonder what she sounds like when she comes.
I wanted to find out. I needed to find out. But I still had a ways to go to reel her in. It would be worth the wait, assuming I survived that long.
“I knew you were a man who knew how to eat oysters!” Dorothy remarked, sidling up to me. “Get a load of that tongue action. Nothing like a man in his prime before he loses all his teeth.”
“Really?” I said casually, reaching for another before Dorothy beat me to it. “Seems like the lack of teeth could be a bonus.”
I had invited Dorothy because I was hoping to score bonus points and convince her to sell me the property by the end of the year. Wouldn’t that be a merry Christmas! Between the booze, the snacks, and the desserts, she seemed to be softening. She took a look at Morticia’s shirt and flashed her a thumbs-up.
“I like a gal who doesn’t take shit from men,” she told Morticia.
“That’s exactly what I was saying,” I said conversationally as I picked up the tall glass pitcher, holding the pink cocktail Morticia had made—
Bet it’s the color of her pussy.
—and topped off Dorothy’s drink.
“Did you know that there are all these pagan sex rituals? I’ve been very much into female positivity,” I told the property owner.
“How about that! I didn’t know you kids were into all that. In the seventies, we were at it like rabbits. Literally. In the woods, in a stream—there was the one time we had an orgy in a desert. This guy was bit by a rattlesnake right as I was riding that anaconda, as the kids say nowadays. Anyways, he let out a scream when that snake bit him, then his dick swelled up to the size of an eggplant. He was literally stuck inside me, and it took five hours to make it to the nearest hospital.”
“Sounds like our kind of pagan ritual!” I nudged Morticia.
“If your dick gets stuck inside me,” she said, “I’m cutting it off.”
“That’s fair. But—” I leaned down to whisper her ear. “I’m glad you’re thinking about when I’m finally going to make you come begging for my cock.”
She went red, and Dorothy laughed.
“You have to lighten up, Morticia. This is art! There’s nothing more