I barely see him for nearly a week.

After that night with the vibrator, he doesn’t come for two days. I’m bored out of my mind, but I do my best to pass the time. I get permission on the second day from him through Jenkins to go on a short walk every day, but only so long as I’m chaperoned. Jenkins makes one of the housecleaners, a girl named Camilla that barely speaks any English, go with me. That suits me just fine, though, since I don’t want to talk anyway.

On my walk, I go around the block. I have twenty minutes to spend, and I use every minute looking around at the city and stretching my legs. Camilla walks next to me and smiles when we look at each other, but otherwise we’re silent with each other.

It’s actually pretty nice, but I wish it were Ethan with me instead of Camilla. I don’t know why he doesn’t come to see me. After the third day, he comes for dinner, but he doesn’t stay long, and we don’t play any games. We talk about his work and I tell him about my walks, and he agrees to let me have a half hour instead of twenty minutes. Two days after that, he comes for dinner again, and again the next night.

But we don’t play any games, and our conversation is simple, almost boring. He seems more reserved and I don’t understand why. He also seems even more tired, if that’s possible. He’s apologetic, and tries to make it up to me by sending gifts, but I don’t need gifts.

Although I can’t really complain about getting things. He sends beautiful dresses, jewelry, a new laptop, a new cellphone, scarves, gloves, a new coat, and a hundred other little things. It’s all perfect and expensive, and frankly more than I’ve ever gotten on my own, but I’d give it all up if he’d just come to see me more often.

Which is a strange thought. After seven days of this, with only seeing him three times in that week, I find myself getting antsy. I keep having negative thoughts, angry thoughts, and I don’t understand it.

Why do I care if he doesn’t come? That just means my life should be easier. I don’t have to worry about pleasing him if he never comes. But I am worried that I’m not good enough, that I’m not living up to his expectations in some way. He doesn’t say that, of course, but I don’t think he would. He’s a good man.

But I crave his attention. I feel silly about it, but it’s the truth. I crave his attention like a lovesick teenager or something, which only makes me feel much crazier. Maybe I’m sick. I’m not supposed to want the man that bought me at an escort auction. I’m supposed to just make him happy and collect my check when it’s all over.

Instead, I’m angry that he’s not giving me the attention I deserve. I feel like a spoiled brat, but I don’t care about all these gifts. I don’t need any of them.

I felt something during that night with the vibrator. I could see it in his eyes as he turned it up and down, teasing me, pushing me. I know he wants me, more than just sex, more than just as a pet to be used however he wants. I saw something more than that, much deeper, like he couldn’t control it.

When I got myself off, I could have sworn I heard him grunting on the other side of the bedroom door. That’s probably crazy, but I can still picture the sounds, and part of me believes he was getting himself off at the same time I was.

There’s something lingering between us and I need to know what it is.

I stand up and look at all the things he bought me. I know he’s going to come home from work soon, or at least when he does come home, he comes home about this time. So I go over to the balcony and open up the door.

Next, I grab one of the dresses he bought me, and I walk outside. I take it out of the box, take one last look, and then I throw it into the street.

I laugh as it hits the ground and I cover my mouth.

“I can’t believe I did that,” I say out loud to myself.

And it’s true, I can’t believe it. This is so freaking crazy. I could get his attention some other way, something that’s not so public, but I find myself walking back into the bedroom, getting another dress, and throwing it out into the street. This one lands in a nearby tree, which only makes me laugh.

I grab another dress and I throw it, along with a box of chocolates, some flowers, and a scarf. It lands in the street and on the sidewalk, and someone looks up at me. Someone else yells, but I don’t care.

I throw down more clothes, pillows, blankets, and I can’t stop myself from laughing the whole time. By the time I’m finished, the street looks like someone dumped their girlfriend by throwing her clothes out the window. People are already starting to push the stuff off to the side, and one or two things get grabbed by people that recognize their worth.

There’s probably a few thousand dollars’ worth of stuff down there on the ground, and all I can do is laugh about it. I feel so totally crazy, but I also feel free. I don’t feel any inhibitions at all.

This is what he needs, a little wildness in his life. He needs a little levity and excitement. Maybe he doesn’t realize it yet, but I’m going to give it to him. And this is the first step. This will get his attention.

If he doesn’t come see me soon, I don’t know what will work.