Payback

&;#65279;I didn't realise it would show, that I'd get caught,
again. You'd think a man of my
age would have learned his lesson, but not this fool. An old dog, same
old tricks.
Like always, there's a price to be paid for such foolishness.
Carey is a nurse, works in forensic medicine, knows her stuff. I should
have realised
I wouldn't get anything past her. I fell for her in a big way, mainly
due to her
intelligence and prowess in the two main rooms of the house, kitchen
and bedroom,
I guess the intelligence thing backfired on me in the end.
Carey sees the scratches on my back while I'm in the bath. At first she
says nothing,
but I feel her bristle and I know what's coming. I'm rubbing myself
with the towel
she handed me when she says 'So?' She makes it sound like a dirty word.
I'm too
stupid to realise I've just been handed a loaded gun and straight away
my smart
mouth shoots me in my own foot.
Carey just looks at me, one of those looks she gives when an animal
needs to be put
to sleep on the telly, and I know I'm in trouble, with a capital
T.
'D'you want something to eat?' she asks me and I'm so surprised I tell
her yes, not
thinking she might be about to my poison my sorry arse. So she goes off
to the
kitchen while I keep rubbing my hide and trying to think of a way out
of this. The
best I can come up with is to tell her 'You've got nothing to worry
about babe'. She
gives me that look again.
Later in bed she is a wild thing. She bucks and moans and grips me
tight. Then it
starts. She bites and scratches like an animal as she tries to erase
the marks with
marks of her own. She is a queen bitch trying to reclaim her territory.
It works, but
then I was always hers to begin with, she just didn't know it. My
fault.
She doesn't mention it again for days but I see her checking the scars
on my back,
running her finger over them, tracing the pain with a faint smile on
her face.
It's a whole week later when she tells me we're going out and I should
shower and
change. She doesn't look happy and I don't ask questions, I just go
with the flow.
She drives and this doesn't bode well at all. She's a good driver, but
a lazy one,
usually preferring chauffeur-driven to self drive. We don't go far and
she pulls up
and gets out of the car.
'We've got an appointment' she tells me. She's not smiling and her body
is tight, her
breathing mean. We walk, or she walks and I follow. We go into the
hospital gates
and I open my mouth to ask what we doing there when she stops and says
'In there.
Go on. I'll wait'. I look over to where she's looking and I see the
sign above the door.
It's red and sore looking and reads Department of Genito-urinary
medicine. The
clap clinic. I look at her and start to open my mouth in protest but
she cuts me off at
the pass.
'Listen. Either you go in there and let them check you for nastiness
and I mean the
full works, the clap, the drip, the rot and HIV' she hisses through
clenched teeth 'or
you find yourself someplace else to live'
I stare at her but she isn't finished yet.
'If you lay down with dogs you get fleas. This is your flea treatment
now get going'
It takes me thirty seconds to make my decision. After all, Carey cooks
such wonderful
chicken and talks so nice.