House Rules
After a few weeks, you had more or less adapted to the rhythm of the house. The early mornings, the late nights, the endless list of duties — it had become routine, manageable, almost normal.
There was one thing, however, you could not get used to.
All that sex. Not yours of course.
Male guests are a daily occurrence. Morning, afternoon, evening... the doorbell rings, footsteps disappear down the hallway, and then the sounds start. Moans that echo through the house. You have learned to identify each of them by now, the way you might learn to identify birdsong.
Charlotte's is always quiet, controlled affairs. You rarely hear much. What you occasionally see, passing an open door, is enough.
Alina's is louder. She seems to enjoy that. You have caught her watching you from across the hallway once, mid-activity, with that small amused smile, like she was checking to see if her little toy could hear properly.
And then there is Gabbie.
Gabbie is the most active, the most audible, and the most thoroughly devastating... not because she is cruel, but because she is the opposite. She doesn't use it against you. She just lives her life, loudly and joyfully and completely without filters, and you happen to be in it.
And then she sits down next to you on the couch afterward and tells you everything.