20Still covered in wet paint, Cecil waited impatiently with Ava outside of Freddy’s room. They could hear Freddy fighting with his mother…Freddy stomping his foot indignantly…Freddy throwing throw pillows.
“You love models,” Addy was saying. “You love that their rib cages look like overcooked baby back ribs.”
“All right!” Cecil knocked on the door.
Addy let them into Freddy’s lair. It was quite cozy, despite a plastic smell of latex. But the chemical stench wasn’t the result of a s*x dungeon. It was from the many latex beanbag chairs tossed around the room. Freddy sat on his beanbag by the fire when his mother left. But Cecil’s eyes darted over the many options. Sheepskin throw pillows? Alpaca body pillows? The room was like a children’s library set up for story time.
Freddy’s sweaty f
