Office Hours Ch. 07

Could have choked.

"I never took my eyes off his face...I would never let anything happen...."

Hurt him.

"He's fine!"

Hurt him.

Dr. Michaels yelped in frustration and smacked off the water.

She wrestled a towel from the rack hard enough to squeak one of the screws loose and rubbed herself dry in a fury. Michaels took several deep breaths to calm her nerves, and could practically taste the beer on her tongue that would cement the calm into place. She shrugged into a robe—a normal one, made of thick cotton and long enough to tickle the tops of her feet—and stepped out of the bathroom, toweling at the back of her head.

And there, on the far side of her bedroom, stuffing one of her wrinkled blouses into a plastic basket, was Jason.

Michaels yelped and jumped back a step, frantically tying closed her open robe.

"God damnit!" she yelled. "What the fuck are you still doing here, Jason?!"

The kid kicked a dirty sock with his toe up into his hand and dunked it into the basket. "Laundry."

Dr. Michaels' face twisted with fury, and she stomped forward, grabbing Jason's hair the back of his head. "Oh, real cute! What is this, really? Answer me!"

"Laundry," Jason repeated calmly. "For someone who prides herself on the way she dresses, you really don't take very good care of your clothes, Ma'am. I have the time and quarters to do a load for you, and I intend to unless you have a good reason why I shouldn't."

Michaels yanked Jason's head about, thinking over her many protests...only to to come to the conclusion that a sexy, naked young boy was offering to do her laundry for free, and she would be an idiot to throw a fit over that.

"Fine," Michaels said firmly against Jason's ear. "Laundry. That doesn't give you permission to snoop around or steal my clothes to wear or whatever. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Jason said.

Michaels let go of the boy's hair, and he went about gathering the stale, rumpled garments from her bedroom floor. It was more than a little embarrassing to watch, Michaels feeling more lazy and sloven the fuller the basket in Jason's arms grew. She did pride herself on her wardrobe, and the garments were expensive—the melon colored bra Jaosn crammed into the plastic basket probably cost more than the entire outfit the boy had folded near her door.

But if the pet felt like giving it all a wash? Fine. So be it. He was right, she really didn't like spending time in the Jacksonian's basement laundry room, and often went far too long between cleaning her fancy clothes.

Yet something in her couldn't let Michaels let Jason go about unpunished. Yes, he was doing something nice for her...but he was doing it without asking proper permission. Outside of her orders. He was a pet, and had to be reminded of his place.

Dr. Michaels was struck with inspiration when she noticed the wadded up underwear she had used to gag Jason stuffed in a corner of his basket. She snatched the damp garment and—doing her best to ignore the boy's cold spit in the fabric—spread the panties atop Jason's head like a humiliating cap. His thick hair puffed out the leg holes, and Dr. Michaels laughed deep at the sight for several seconds before smacking both his cheeks and commanding, "Leave 'em."

Michaels watched for a moment while Jason bit his lip against some comment while his cheeks pinked slightly before going back to work picking up laundry.

The cold air of the apartment chilled Michaels slightly as she wandered towards the kitchen. Michales grabbed a beer from the fridge from behind the citrus sodas she had bought for Jason. She took a few deep gulps on her way into the living room and tugged her thick robe tight against her neck as she flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping though a few channels, Michaels settled on a heavily-edited cable version of L.A. Confidential that was just starting.

Yet Dr. Michaels' gaze took in only nanoseconds of the movie at a time as Jason brought his tidying from her bedroom into the living room. She just couldn't help but stare at the boy. He was just such a pretty young thing, so lean and taut and strong....Just moving around, doing chores for her, was enticing spectacle to watch. That chest, those legs, that impossibly perfect ass...and of course the lovely, faithful cock that, even now, despite everything, was bobbing about half-hard.

As she watched Jason scurry about, Dr. Michaels blinks grew longer, heavier. Soon it was time to rest her eyes.

And then nothing.

4

Dr. Michaels awoke with a loud snort.

She cast her sleepy, blurry eyes about the room, slowly remembering that she was on her own couch in her own living room. Yet things were different. The floor was much cleaner, to the point that the entire room felt bigger. The coffee table was oddly flat, no longer a cityscape of cans, boxes, and trays.

Michaels managed to squint at the TV long enough to see that L.A. Confidential was mostly over, meaning she'd been out for well over an hour. Only then did she realize just how warm and comfortable she felt. She was still wearing her cotton robe, yet she was now also carefully tucked into the big afghan that usually crowned the couch, the fringe brought up right up under her chin.

Jason.

And there he was at the opposite end of the couch, folding dried laundry into little piles. Still naked, still wearing the panties on his head.

Michaels rolled her eyes and curled deeper into the warm blanket, realizing as she did so that Jason had also somehow snuggled a pillow beneath her head.

Her glasses were folded neatly on the edge of the coffee table, and Michaels thrust them onto her face as she sprang upright and gripped Jason's jaw.

"I know what you're doing," she nearly growled into his eair. "You think that if you stick around long enough, play nice doing chores, I might just fuck you some more. Maybe even feel so gracious that I suck your dick."

"That's not it at all, Ma'am," Jason said and sighed at once with infuriating calm. "You like to dress well. It makes you feel good. I want you to feel good, so I'm cleaning your clothes for you. That's all there is to it all, Ma'am."

Michaels sighed, rolled her eyes, and released Jason's face, sinking back into the warmth and comfort of the bedding that Jason had tucked her into on the couch.

"You made yourself decent when you went down to the laundry room," Michaels said as she watched Guy Pierce and Russle Crowe glower at each other on the TV. "Right?"

"Of course, Ma'am," Jason answered. "That's...okay, right, Ma'am?"

Michaels chuckled. "Of course it is, you idiot. Do you really think I'd send you out naked into the building? Why? Do you think I'm that cruel, Jason?" The boy didn't answer, and Michaels felt a stab of hurt at his silence. "Well, I'm not! Fuck you Jason, I'm not a mean person."

"I know," Jason said, stroking her calf through the blanket.

Yet Michaels was pissed. How dare the pet presume she was slovenly, and lazy, and cruel, and...and all the slanderous things he was obviously sitting on her couch presuming about her!

Michaels wriggled a foot out of the afghan and kicked Jason on the side of the head. Then again, and again. She held the third kick, pinning Jason's head against his own shoulder for awhile before him go.

All the while, the pet kept folding her laundry into neat groups, seemingly oblivious to the abuse.

Yet without saying a word, Jason proved to be a liar. The boy's cock, previously withered like a frightened turtle somewhere inside his pubes, was now growing bold and hard.

Dr. Michaels soon began to tease Jason's face with her foot, smushing his cheeks around with her heel and hooking her toes inside the corner of his mouth.

This went on well past the end of L.A. Confidential

Yet eventually Jason ruined her fun, as he always ruined everything, grabbing her probing foot and nuzzling it against his cheek, giving the underside of Michaels' toes a light kiss.

"Shall I massage them, Ma'am?" the boy asked, still cradling her foot against his cheek.

"No..." Michaels almost whispered, withdrawing her feet into the warmth of the afghan as, all at once, she suddenly felt petty and childish. "Maybe later."

Michaels tugged her eyes away from the pet and forced herself to watch the climax of the movie on TV. All the while, she continued watching Jason folding her laundry out the corner of her eye. Her underwear stretched over his head still gave her an odd, dark tingle...but it really wasn't very funny. In fact, it made her feel a bit stupid. With a quick snap, Michaels sprang up and snatched the panties from Jason's head, flinging them beneath the coffee table. The kid offered no reaction, not even a grin of relief. He could be so insufferably hard to ruffle when he felt like it! The basket was almost empty. And when it was empty, the silly kiddo would leave.

"Uugh!" Dr. Michaels growled, kicking Jason's hip. "Do you realize that it's almost six o'clock? If you're really so pathetic that you feel you must cling to me all fucking day, then you might as well make me dinner."

That got a response. Jason dropped a pair of socks half-balled into his lap and turned to her with a pathetic beam splitting his face.

"Really, Ma'am?" he asked softly.

Michaels sighed, smushing her face into the warm pillow. "Yes, sure. Why not? You're always teasing me about what I eat, and blathering on about how easy it is to cook. So just do it. It's getting late, and I'm starving."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jason said. He rushed through the rest of the laundry before scrambling into most of his clothes at the doorway and bolting downstairs to his own apartment so fast that Michaels could hear every slam of his bare feet on the stairs.

While waiting for her pet to come back, Michaels slipped into a warm, cozy doze beneath the blanket the boy had tucked over her. But she awoke not long after, cuddling a wad of afghan, an amazing aroma permeating every breath she took.

"Oh my God!" Michals sighed. She twisted onto her back, catching a glimpse of the pet bravely working naked at her stove. "Oh my fuck, what is that, Jason?"

"Dinner," the boy answered casually, flipping the sizzling contents of a pan just like he knew what the hell he was doing.

'Dinner' soon proved to be a bowl of seasoned rice, topped with strips of chicken, topped with sauteed onions and peppers.

Jason served it to Michaels on bended knee, the meal in one hand and a cold beer in the other. It was one of the most delicious meals Dr. Michaels had ever had, and she ordered Jason to rub her feet while she ate it.

Once she had eaten all of the onions and peppers, all of the chicken, and almost all of the rice, Dr. Michaels gently slid the bowl to the floor while sliding her stuffed self against the couch.

"That was..." Dr. Michaels sighed, scratching the back of the Jason's head. "That was pretty good, Jason."