Read Online The Three Rs by Ashe Barker - Free Book Online Page B

wouldn’t say he’s keeping his end of the bargain. He follows you around everywhere.”
    Cain turns to me, frowning. “No he doesn’t…”
    I just nod. “He does. He sleeps in your office while you’re there and when you came in here, he came too.”
    “Only because he was hungry.”
    I shrug. “Well, he’s not hungry now.”
    We both turn to watch the huge old cat pad silently across the kitchen toward a battered old lone fireside chair in the corner. He hops up and makes himself comfortable on the rather flattened cushion there. He regards us solemnly from his vantage point and, apparently satisfied we’re not about to get up to any mischief, he shoves his nose back between his paws and closes his eyes. I shoot my best ‘I told you so’ look in Cain’s direction, and return to the potatoes. I wouldn’t mind betting the old moggy sleeps on the cushion I spotted on the landing earlier, just outside Cain’s bedroom.
    “What makes you say he’s bad-tempered?” In fairness, although I’m no authority on cats, Oscar hasn’t struck me so far as being anything other than mild-mannered.
    “He hisses at me. When I stand on him.”
    “Well, I’d hiss at you if you trampled all over me as well. So how come you manage to stand on him? He’s big enough to see.”
    “He trips me up. All the time. I just seem to turn round, and he’s there. Getting under my feet and bloody hissing. What’s so funny, and why the fuck are you so interested in a grumpy old cat anyway?”
    I shrug, trying not to laugh. ‘Stays out of my way’ indeed. That cat follows him around everywhere. I find myself developing a soft spot for old Oscar.
    “Just asking… And Oscar’s not grumpy. He’s just loyal. And he likes you. I can’t imagine why.”
    Cain grabs a vegetable knife and starts to chop the peeled potatoes into smaller cubes. “What do you mean? I’m perfectly likable.”
    “Sometimes. When you’re not threatening to spank me.”
    Now it’s his turn to chuckle. “Threatening, or offering?”
    I consider that while I dump water into a pan and place it carefully on top of the stove. He has to give me directions for lighting the gas ring, but soon our potatoes are simmering happily. Cain checks the beef casserole in the oven, gives it a stir then grabs a couple of wine glasses from a cupboard above his head.
    “Red or white?”
    I seem to remember hearing somewhere that it should be red wine to go with red meat, but I prefer white and say so. He selects a bottle from the bottom of the monster fridge, the sort with a proper, old fashioned cork not a screw top, and deftly twists the corkscrew into it. He pulls the cork out with a lively pop then pours us both a glass before sitting down at the table opposite me. He takes a sip, waits for me to do likewise, then goes for the jugular again.
    “All this talk of spanking has drawn my attention to what a perfectly gorgeous bum you have there, Miss Fischer. So, will you be tempted to let me leave some hand prints on it, then?”
    My second sip of wine narrowly misses going down the wrong way. As it is I’m coughing as I replace my glass, and find myself once more staring at him. Cain Parrish leans back in his chair, perfectly composed as he waits for me to right myself. I make a decent attempt, trying to inject a note of sternness into my voice.
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly know you.”
    “Ah, I see. You only let men you know well spank you, is that it?”
    “No, I don’t… I mean…” Another fortifying sip of wine, but still, with just a few casually suggestive words from Cain Parrish, my composure has fled, never to return, I suspect. This time though, Cain takes pity. He puts his glass down, leans across the table and reaches for my hand. I try to pull away, but his hold is firm. He turns my palm up, and with his middle finger caresses the sensitive heart of my hand.
    “Would it be your first time then? Being spanked, I mean. Or maybe you’re a