The Trap of Love Bockey Tengil

Move over

Geck! poke!

The knock on the bathroom door forced me to open my eyes.

"Tone! Are you inside?"

Geck! Geck! Again, the door is knocked.

"Speak!"

"just enter. I didn't lock the door." I was still soaking in the buthub to relax my body and mind. Bodo time if he sees me like this. He had already felt it.

If I used to insist on chasing after that handsome widower's love, then it doesn't start today. I'm gonna make him hate me so much. If you don't change your mind.

Chequek.

After the door opened, Om Gibran immediately turned his face after a moment of our eyes clashed with each other.

"When have you been soaking?" He asked with his back.

I knit my eyebrows while guessing. "One, or two hours ago, maybe." I played the soft foams I made from soap to my arm. Sometimes I blow it into bubbles.

"Do you want to kill yourself?"

"Please take it that way."

He's clucking.

"Stop being silly! You won't go straight ma-ti just for soaking for too long." He turned his body to face me. Then I turned back as I turned the tap to drain the water in the buthub. I smiled wryly looking at that.

"Then why do you ask yourself?" I quickly got up from the buthub without intending to wear a towel attached to the hanger. Challenging this once. Like a comfort woman who is trying to arouse the passion of her clients. No matter about self-worth!

"I'm not that stupid!" press me while hitting the shoulder on that strapping back. Aw! I am the one who is sick, anyway. I heard him chuckle. Ish, sucks!

I opened the paper bag he gave me in the morning. Started to wear clothes that size feels right on my body. Even the size of the bra and CD is not too small nor too big. Oh, yeah, I forgot. He must have known because he had 'spell it'.

I smiled wryly in light of the tragic incident. The events that have brought me to the black valley are called 'destruction'.

"Why is the food still intact?" Om Gibran pointed to two trays of breakfast and lunch delivered by Asisiten in this house.

"I have no appetite" I replied.

"Do I need a bribe?"

"Apaan, anyway."

"Eat now or repeat the incident in the car?"

Gluey! What the fuck. How dare he threaten me. Okay, I'm gonna get him. Let's see who is weaker among us.

I broke this black hair that was still wet. Walk back and forth to Om Gibran who was sitting on the sofa with one leg up. I put that leg up. Then I sat down on her thighs and wrapped my left hand around her neck.

"Om how many rounds do we want to play?" I said seductively while fingering the firm face that used to make me crazy.

The clothes I wear are not all kukancingi. The top three I deliberately left open to tease the handsome man who used to rule my heart. Let me emphasize it again. Long ago! Not for now.

"Say. Um how long do you want me to last?" I again teased him by putting naughty touches on his field chest.

But of all the moves I made, Om Gibran just looked at me flat expressionless. His hand did not return my embrace. Is he not blatant? I've guessed he must have held back his desire.

No. gabe. It turns out my guess was wrong. I screamed when suddenly Om Gibran turned my position under him.

"24 hours. Are you up to it, you little boy?" he asked with a sly grin on his face.

His fingers tucked the haircut that was blocking my face, behind my ears. I swallowed the salivan as he brought the face closer.

"I asked, are you willing?" whisper it right in the ear. I could feel the man breathing down my neck. Make yourself shudder in horror and imagine the right thing.

After which, both of his hands crept on his chest. Then I closed my eyes and...

"Haha!" Om Gibran. "I just wanted to tell you how to dress modestly according to age. Your brain needs to be on a broom." He touched my forehead then passed away after successfully making me cold hot.

It turned out that he was just tidying up my shirt which had been deliberately left open.

"Armgh!" I shouldn't have been overwhelmed by his touch. How humiliating! Master's dinner weapon is his name.

***

"Why should we leave this house?"

"Because I'm going to sell this house."

"But-"

"Just calm. You can still meet your parents."

Isha! He's like a shaman. You know what I'm thinking.

I stared at the cool house on the right side of Om Gibran's house. There was a pair of eyes peering out from behind the window curtain. I know it's Mom. Why didn't he just come out. I've missed him. I also want to hug him.

This is all because of Duda. I can't see Mom and Dad every day. I had to make her life tormented for marrying me. Yes, Om Gibran said he'd justify me in the morning. Which means I'll officially be his wife.

"Miss, let's go inside." A man - who I had expected to be younger than Om Gibran - broke my daydream. He let me in Om Gibran's car. Looks like he's a co-worker.

I looked back where Om Gibran was still inside.

"Later Master will soon follow," he said again as if to understand my behavior.

In my heart I asked. This man called me 'Miss' and 'Master' to Om Gibran. But, ah it's not important.

"Good." I sat quietly beside the wheel.

Along the way I busy myself by reading a novel in a free application. Reading a fictional story that can make me shy to become the main character.

But suddenly an embarrassing voice broke the silence. I smiled clumsyly at Om. ah I don't know what his name is. He laughed at the sound of my stomach.

"We stopped in front. There is a restaurant that serves the best menus," he said still accompanied by laughter on his face.

I get upset because I don't like to be laughed at.

"No need. We'll just stop here."

"There is no food that-"

"Om blind what? Look that!" My index finger leads to a row of street vendors.

"I mean--"

"I said stop!"

'My word just airs like that'

The man said softly, but I could still hear. Now I change who laughs at him. Haha. Don't macem that's why.

"Alright, Miss." he sounded resigned.

"Wait on! What's Om's name?"

"Call me Vino."

"Okay, Om Vino."

I go downstairs to buy a sweet martabak that seems very delicious when eaten while warm.

Turns out Om Vino followed me down dong. The man followed me until I finished getting the sweet martabak I wanted. I was followed by Om-Om. But the purchase is also not far away. Get off the car, take a few steps, and take it. Why should I be followed. I think I'll just run away.

"Om Vino wants the hammer?" I offered while holding out a piece of toping nut martabak to Om Vino.

"No, Miss. Thank you." Thank you."

"Why not. Though it was always buying ngikutin?"

"That's because-"

"Ah, stop. Om Vino just focus on driving."

The man seemed to be breathing long. His face was also bent. Tangled bet kayak clothes not yet ironed. I was offered a martabak. I'm not forcing her either, she won't. But why such a gloomy face.

'Am I talking wrong?' ask me to myself.