#price tangle

now...it's his job to help, but it's not his job to stare at your ass as you walk away. but every curve on you was so enticing, he really couldn't help himself. so he waits like a patient predator for you to leave, catching you on the way out and asking if you'd like him to walk you to the entrance so you don't get lost. you just smile up at him and nod.

kate tried to chastise him for dating you, she really did her best to prevent your demise. you were too young, too soft, too innocent for a man like him. the rest of the team held the same thoughts, but would never voice them. everyone was so damn concerned about you and your wellbeing. and you never understood why.

sure, he asked you to move in after 3 months. but he was right! it made more sense since he wasn't home all the time, if you lived with him it made seeing him a lot easier. and yes he proposed only 2 months after you moved in, everyone in your life (and his) telling you it was way too soon and that you didn't really know him yet. but when you know, you know! sometimes the pitiful stares really confused you, the way Kyle and Johnny smiled weakly at you when you visited John on base, belly already round with child #1 only a few months after he slid that diamond on your finger.

it was as if everyone thought you were some trapped animal. snatched from your home in the rainforest and dropped into a cramped cage in the middle of a busy metropolitan city zoo, destined to live out the rest of your pathetic life cooped up there.

but no one understood that you were exactly where you wanted to be. so what if John had a preference over what clothes you wore and food you ate? those types of decisions were boring and quite frankly it was nice to have someone do it for you. yes he made you quit your job so he could "provide for you", but you hated that dead end office anyway. he expected a lot of sex, but he fucked you so good and full it was almost impossible to say no.

so you let everyone think John was in charge. especially John. he really thought he had it made, a pretty little wife that asked how high when he said jump. one that always had tea on the table and a whiskey ready for him when the kids finally went to bed. one that dutifully opened her legs and her mouth whenever he said the word.

but you ran that house with an iron fist. albeit a manicured one.

squeaky cupboard door? he better fix it, no matter how long his day was. favorite heels wearing thin? he better buy you three new pairs in different colors. he wanted to act like a big strong man? he could take the trash out, fix your car, tend the garden, build you furniture, and entertain the kids while you have a nice long soak in the bath.

you let him fuck you six ways to Sunday almost nightly, desecrate and violate you in ways you would never suggest on your own, and get you pregnant mere months after you've pushed out another one of his kids. so damn right you're getting a foot massage even though he's the one who's been on his feet all day.

so yes, you let John (and everyone else) think that he's in control. that you're some sweet little housewife that John caught in his web. too dumb for your own good.

but it takes John three tries to get the kids to quiet down.

it only takes one look from you to get them in line.