27
Rue
Dryas makes a simple dinner for the two of us, a salad and roasted fish. I devour everything he puts in front of me, including a huge glass of white wine. Afterward, we sit and watch an old movie in one of the living rooms, on a screen he wheels in. We lie on the same couch, gradually floating together until my head was in his lap.
He strokes my hair just the way he did when I first arrived here when he forced a bath on me. Now, though, I don’t seem to mind it nearly as much. When his touch turns into a massage, I let my eyes close halfway, breathing softly.
His hands are magical. They trail down to my shoulders, working out every little knot, leaving me spineless as a jellyfish. Part of my relaxation is the second huge glass of wine, which makes everything seem happy and glowin
