Tales of the Storage Space, Part 2

Tales of the Storage Space

“For the best.”  Jennifer hated those words.  In the three years she’d known Martin, she’d never, ever heard him use them unless it was really for the worst.  Like the first of many times he said their going out separately and maintaining their relationships with their friends was “for the best.”  Or when he said he needed time to himself to prepare for his next day at work, even though they were living together, was “for the best.”  Or that she should develop some…separate…interests of her own.  The list was endless.

It was all just like her parents’ terrible abuse.  They’d had absolutely no time for Jennifer, even though she was an only child.  Sure, they’d done a lot with her, but they always wanted to do other things away from her too.  For no reason.  And they were always going on about how they’d spoiled her.  Ridiculous.  People were so unreasonable.

Like Martin.  How could she possibly live without him?  Or all her stuff she’d be forced to keep in this miserable storage unit if she had to move out of Martin’s place.  Her stuff…her precious, precious stuff!  Martin was so unreasonable.

Jennifer stopped crying on his shoulder and looked up at Martin.  Nothing.  No emotion whatsoever.  If she jumped off the roof would his expression remain the same?

“Let’s finish sorting you here,” he said.  “Shall we?”

That British accent.  It was yet another thing about Martin that Jennifer hated.  If she thought about it, there wasn’t anything about Martin that she didn’t hate.  But that wasn’t the point.

How could she get him back?

She stood apart from him.

The idiot started putting her precious stuff in the damned storage unit!

“Martin…”  She said it slow and sexy.  “There is one last little thing we didn’t do, something we really should have thought of before leaving your apartment…”

Martin rearranged the stuff of Jennifer’s he’d already put in the dark little cubicle of a room that was her storage unit.  Then he looked back at Jennifer.

Jennifer bit her lip and hooked a thumb into the hem of her T-shirt, slowly tugging it downward till her breasts started to pop out of the top.

Martin said, “I think we’ll be able to fit more boxes in if we rearrange them like I just did.”  Turning away from her, he tossed the magnificent vintage chair she’d found on the street back out of the unit.  “This piece of junk you can just bin somewhere on your way out.”  He went back to cramming more of her precious stuff into what she had hoped he’d convert into a private little love nest…

God!  He wasn’t any good in bed anyway, never had been.  Sex had always felt like something he checked off a stupid to-do list, right up there with brushing his teeth…or moving all her stuff into a damned storage unit.

She’d have to think of something else.

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