Because You Asked For It - Chapter 12

Chapter 12. Kate

“So what’s new with you,” Kylee asked me. “How is it being the breadwinner?”

“Stressful,” I told her. “Even with my raise we’re still making about 15% less.”

“How are you managing that,” she asked me.

“Retirement savings are a little thinner right now. Cut back on a few things.”

“Well, you’re a nicer wife than I would be. I’d have told him he could find something part time if he were that unhappy, but how much does he really make freelancing the occasional article?”

“It’s more than occasional, but yeah, he’d make more in a part time job.”

“Bet you like being in charge, though.”

“Doesn’t work like that. It’s not like I’m suddenly a fin domme now,” I told her.

“Speaking of, do you wanna go to a play party this weekend?”

“Actually, I’m taking Jordy to a munch.”

“Seriously? I thought he hated that stuff.”

“Well, he’s gonna get used to it. We made a deal.”

“So you are a little bit in charge,” Kylee teased me. “Hope he doesn’t throw a tantrum about going.”

“He won’t. Not if he knows what’s good for him,” I giggled. “Anyway, I should get home. Jordy made dinner tonight.”

“Does he know how to cook?”

“He has a few things he knows how to make. Can’t be worse than what I cook.” No one was knocking down my door for my specialty either.

“Maybe with his newfound free time you should get him some cooking lessons. Make him a little 1950s house husband,” Kylee quipped.

“How about you come to dinner next week?”

“Sure. I’ll bring the food.”

“Snob.”

“Philistine.”

The house smelled sort of good when I got home. I found Jordy in the kitchen with a sink full of pots and something in the oven. His shirt was caught on the back of his pants, and his butt looks especially bulgy.

“Hi, honey,” he said to me while standing over the stove.

“Hey. What are you making?”

“Chicken parmesan.”

“Oh,” I replied, “That’s ambitious.” And fattening. Fried chicken covered in cheese and served on pasta. I made a note to talk to him about that after dinner.

“I’m following a recipe I found online. How did people used to cook like this every night? Almost every pan we own is dirty.”

“The woman stayed home and cooked all day between doing laundry and raising the kids.”

“What did the man do?”

“Pretend he was so overcome with the stress of working in an office that all he could do we sit his ass in a recliner and drink a high ball.”

“Hmmm. Sounds miserable from both ends to me.”

“I’m gonna go change.” I went to the bedroom to get out of my work clothes. One thing I didn’t like about the promotion is I couldn’t get away with dressing any way I liked any more. The real bosses could do what they wanted. The almost-real bosses like me had to put on airs. I changed into shorts and a tank top and felt instantly better, pausing to wonder how many resources were wasted creating, transporting, buying, and maintaining clothes most people don’t wear by choice, all to show some unspecified someone we take our job seriously or something. I went into the bathroom and was pleased to see it, too, was clean. Jordy had done a good job. 

When I went back out to the kitchen, Jordan was seated at the kitchen table with a glass of wine in his hand and another on the table. He smiled quietly at me.

“Glad I’m home,” I asked.

“Yeah. More fun with you here.”

“What did you do all day?”

“I did my chores, looked up that recipe, went to the store to buy the ingredients, and now I’ve been cooking for the last hour and a half. Should be done soon. How was your day?”

“I worked my butt off, and not five minutes after I closed my laptop I got an email from a higher up to the effect that I should have thought to do something without being told and could I get it done by 2:00 tomorrow.”

“And your reply?”

“That I’d do my best. I don’t even know the guy. He’s just an email address, but I got 99 problems, and what he needs ain’t one. If he wanted it, he should’ve said so.”

“And you’re not senior enough to tell him that?”

“Nope.” I finished my glass of wine. “There’s always someone more senior. His whole department is a buncha entitled jerks. They forget my department has our own clients and doesn’t work for them.”

“So crummy day?”

“Average day. Jerk just made the end worse.”

“Sorry.” The timer dinged, and Jordy got up to get dinner out of the oven.

I looked at his saggy butt when he bent over. “You been wearing that diaper long,” I asked with a laugh. I saw the back of his ears turn red.

“Uh, since noon maybe.”

“Maybe you should go change before dinner.”

“It … okay.”

“It’ll have cooled off by the time you get back.” He waddled off down the hall. I surveyed his effort at dinner. It’s relatively easy to follow a recipe. He’d printed it off, and the oil-stained sheet of paper was laying next to the stove. He’d really made an effort. He was back in less than five minutes.

“Did you remember to wash your hands,” I teased him. He blushed at me and went to the sink. “Jordan!”

“I forgot.”

“Well, no more forgetting. Yuck. And you really should change more often.” I reminded myself I didn’t want to be in charge of his diapering, but he was soaked.

“Those diapers can hold a lot,” he protested as he dried his hands.

“But you’ll start to smell.” He didn’t respond to that but instead served dinner. I poured us both another glass of wine. Dinner was good. Heavy, but good. I wanted to be sensitive and not ungrateful for all the work he’d done, but I felt I had to make it clear he couldn’t cook meals like that very often. After we’d done the dishes together, I took his hand and led him to the living room, pulling him down to the couch with him leaning against me. I kissed the top of his head and played with his hair. He always likes it when I do that.

“Did you like dinner,” he asked.

“I did. You did a good job.” I considered how to put this. “How about you spend some time tomorrow coming up with a menu for the week?”

“Okay.”

“Maybe something a little lighter the next few nights.”

“Like what?”

“Up to you. Just … something with at least one vegetable, and maybe less carbs. Grilled.”

“Was that too fattening?” He sounded worried.

“Not for maybe a one a week dinner, but we can’t eat like that every night. Maybe find some good websites with lighter recipes. Doesn’t have to be diet food, just something healthier.”

“Okay.” I looked at him from above for a moment.

“Don’t be like that. Dinner really was good. Fried food just needs to be rare is all.” I slid my hands over his shoulders and clasped them across his chest. He was reclined against me, and I think we’d both have fallen asleep right then between the long day, heavy meal, and the wine if not for what happened next.

Jordy was laying so he was partly resting on my leg. I suddenly felt something warm on my leg. Not wet, just warm. It certainly jolted me out of my stupor. But I wasn’t upset. His pee stayed in his diaper. I reached for the remote and kept playing with his hair.