Chapter 41 Stew

Chapter 41 Stew
When I woke up the next morning, I had a huge grin on my face.
I didn't know why, but I just felt so wonderful. Every part of me felt satisfied as if I'd eaten a lovely meal the night before.
I yawned, stretched, and then sat up in bed. That's when the memories hit me like a ton of bricks.
Flashes of twisted sheets, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and panting hard all flashed through my mind. Even in the bright sunlight, I detected a distinctly musky smell in the air.
Had I really gone through with it? Had I taken Jack into my bed and had sex with him? Oh no! I knew right away that I had made a terrible mistake. Not only had I defied Malcolm's orders but I'd never even wanted to bed Jack. Something must have come over me.
Or had it all just been a really lifelike dream? For one thing, there was no sign of Jack's presence in my room. Would he really have slipped out in the middle of the night like a thief after we made wild, passionate love? That didn't seem like his style. Anyway, surely he would have left me a note, right?
I sat there on the edge of my bed, teetering between believing all those vivid images in my mind were the product of an overactive imagination and accepting that they were real.
But even if they were real, why had I gone through with it? I had pledged myself to Malcolm, and he had made it very clear that he did not want me hooking up with his son. So why would I go and do something as foolish as betray him by having sex with Jack?
The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that I had just dreamed up the whole thing. I'd been under so much tension during my time alone in the house, and then I'd felt so disappointed when Malcolm had returned without giving me any relief.
That's all it was, the female version of a "wet dream," something my overcooked body had manifested in the middle of the night when my guard was down. Whew!
Anyway, it was ridiculous to think that Jack had disobeyed his father and come running into my room to tell me he loved me. You see? More proof that it was a silly fantasy. Malcolm certainly knew where his son was, off on some business retreat or whatever.
Shaking my head at how silly I could be, I vowed to myself never to eat right before bed. Clearly, that ice cream had been fuel for my wildly creative imagination. Although I had to admit that the whole thing had felt incredibly real, right down to the way that Jack's skin smelled, warm and with the slightest hint of cedar.
I got out of bed and put on my dress. I spent a few minutes in front of the mirror, combing my hair with my fingers as I had no hairbrush until I looked presentable. I then set out to go enjoy a nice healthy breakfast and catch up with my mother. I was very curious to hear how she'd enjoyed her honeymoon.
But when I tried to open my door, the knob refused to turn. I tried several more times until I figured out that it was locked. That made no sense, so I gave the door a rattle, thinking maybe something had gotten stuck. But no matter what I tried, I couldn't get the darn thing open.
With no other choice, I began banging on the door and crying out for help. Unfortunately, no one came to my rescue. That's when I began to panic. Maybe my nocturnal romp with Jack really had been true and now Malcolm was angry. If that was the case, what was I going to do? Malcolm must be really furious to lock me in my room!
I dashed over to the window to try and open it, but it was sealed and wouldn't budge. I distantly remembered someone telling me the entire mansion was climate controlled, so they'd nailed the windows shut. I was trapped.
With my heart pounding, I began pacing circles on the floor. Somehow, I was going to have to try and explain everything to Malcolm. Should I just confess that I'd been a total slut and beg for his forgiveness?
Or should I try and shift some of the blame to Jack? I mean, he was the one who came into my room. I hadn't invited him. If Malcolm should be mad at anyone, it was his son, the dirty rascal with his flattering words and beguiling smile.
I don't know how long I paced around, but after a while, it dawned on me that I might be stuck in there a while. If the doorknob was simply malfunctioning, there was no telling how long it would take for someone to realize I was missing and come check on me. And if Malcolm was preparing to punish me, perhaps letting me stew for a while was part of his plan.
Either way, it wasn't too long before I discovered I had a more pressing issue to deal with. I crossed my legs and sat down, fighting off the urge to pee. I looked around, trying to find some kind of receptacle I could use, a plastic bottle or anything, but there was nothing.
I held off as long as I could, but finally the pressure on my bladder was simply too much. I realized I was going to have to piss in the corner like some kind of dog. Completely miserable, I hiked up my dress and then squatted down to do my filthy business.
For a long time, it didn't come, and then I got my blessed relief. But the satisfaction was short-lived as I got my feet and inner thighs wet. It was all so incredibly humiliating that I wanted to shrivel up and pretend it had never happened.
Just then, I heard a key in the lock, and the door to my room opened. I shot to my feet and tugged down my dress. Malcolm walked in, followed by two members of his staff.
"Malcolm! Oh, thank god!" I cried, tears welling up in the corner of my eyes.