Zoey heard a sigh of frustration from behind her.

“Whassup?” she grunted, not taking her eyes off her screen.

“Zo, there was a stack of dirty dishes and cutlery by the sink when I left this morning.”

“There was? YES!” She punched the air as one of the enemy team in Call of Duty: Warzone dropped dead at her feet.

Lewis sighed again, louder and more impatiently. “Yes, there was. And there still is. In fact, now it’s even bigger!”

She shrugged, manoeuvring her onscreen avatar behind a low brick wall to avoid gunfire. “So?”

“So, I had hoped that you’d have washed at least some of it! I hate coming back from eight hours at work to find a huge pile of washing up to do.”

“Maybe do it before you leave then,” she muttered.

He didn’t answer, but she could feel the heat of his increasingly angry gaze on the back of her head. Typing a quick ‘AFK’ message to her comrades, she looked round at her boyfriend.

“I’m sorry, babe,” she pouted. “You know I’m not good at remembering to do all the boring real-life stuff. I get distracted by fun stuff like COD! I’ll do it later, once I’ve finished this game - I promise...”

“No, it’s too late,” he snapped. “We don’t have any clean plates for dinner, so I’ll have to wash up now, before I cook.”

She got to her feet and approached him, giving him her most seductive look. A glance in his eyes, then down at the floor, then back up to his eyes while biting her lower lip. That was her most effective move. It was working here, too - she could see the arousal growing in his expression (among other places), quickly overpowering his annoyance at her.

“Don’t be mad, honey,” she purred, stepping close to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her chest against his. Even through his suit and jacket, and her own thick sweatshirt, she could feel his heart pounding faster.

Staring down at her, he opened and closed his mouth wordlessly a couple of times. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I’m not mad,” he sighed. “I... it’s OK. Just don’t do it again...”

“Oh, don’t worry, I learned my lesson!” she insisted. “Now, uh... can I go back to my game?”

“Sure,” he said wearily.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever!” She gave him a peck on the cheek, and then darted back to the couch, grabbing her controller and reactivating her COD avatar.

Shaking his head resignedly, Lewis plodded away to the kitchen.

***

As she continued waiting meekly for her boyfriend to pay attention to her, Zoey tapped her foot anxiously, fidgeting with her fingers, running her tongue over the rubber nipple in her mouth. That taste of cinnamon was still there. Mmmm. She really liked cinnamon. Lewis made a fantastic apple crumble with cinnamon - it was her absolute favourite dessert. If this situation hadn’t been forced upon her, she might’ve even liked it. But she was too upset and frustrated to let herself enjoy the taste.

Although... As the seconds turned into minutes, her distress and restlessness seemed to ebb. She noticed this with a sort of detached curiosity - why was she calming down? She supposed it was because she was powerless to do anything about the mysterious immovable binky, so there was no point freaking out about it. It was a waste of energy. Better to just wait patiently until Lewis was available to help her...

“Alright, what’s up?”

It took a couple of seconds to register that Lewis had spoken to her. Blinking and coming out of the strange placid daze she’d drifted into, she looked down to see him gazing up at her from his chair. He still had his laptop in front of him, and had twisted around so he could look at her. “Zoey?” he asked, his voice betraying a note of impatience. “What d’you want, babe?”

She stared at him bemusedly. Isn’t it obvious?! She waved a hand in the direction of her face.

His face was uncomprehending. “What? What am I supposed to be looking at?”

Getting increasingly pissed off, she pointed at the pacifier again, this time punctuating the gesture with an indignant grunt and a stamp of the foot.

He shook his head slowly. “Nope, still not getting it... Did you do something with your hair?”

HOW IS HE NOT SEEING IT?!

“Is that it? I’m sorry, honey, you know I struggle to notice things like that.” Moving his laptop onto the coffee table, he got to his feet and approached her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “But it’s only because you look stunning no matter what,” he told her fondly, leaning forwards and kissing her on the forehead.

As he embraced her, Zoey felt a strange mix of emotions - mild annoyance about the condescending forehead kiss; bizarrely, a simultaneous wave of affection for the kiss, and for his kind words; but most of all, disbelief and outrage that he seemed not to have noticed the very obvious pink, glowing pacifier in her mouth! How could that be? It occurred to her that just as it was somehow stopping her from removing it, the object could be having an effect on Lewis as well, making him not notice that it was there.

She had to find some way to communicate with Lewis, to make him aware of her plight. Maybe if she left him a message - wrote him a note, or typed something on his laptop... The laptop seemed a better option, since he used it practically all the time. All she had to do was disentangle herself from the hug, get past him and go over to the table.

But she couldn’t bring herself to break off the hug. Her arms wouldn’t lower themselves from his back; her torso and feet wouldn’t move away from him... She was powerless to move - at least until he released her, stepping back and gazing lovingly at her.

That was weird, she thought. But only, like, the tenth weirdest thing to happen this morning. Anyway, now’s my chance...

She began to move, but had only taken one small step forwards when Lewis raised a hand, causing her to halt in her tracks. “Hey, I’ve still got a lot of work to do, and there are a few dishes that need washing. Would you mind doing it?”

Caught off guard, she found herself nodding her assent before she could even think about it.

He beamed. “Thanks, hun.” And he returned to his seat and resumed typing away on his laptop.

Zoey stared at him for a moment. How was she going to tell him about the magic binky now? And why the hell had she agreed to wash up? She never washed up. That was his job. Washing up was a boring job, and boring jobs were Lewis jobs.

But she had agreed to it. And it was not like she could tell him about her problem right now.

Bowing her head defeatedly, she slunk off to the kitchen.

***

“So, you didn’t clean, then,” Lewis sighed. “Not the lounge or the kitchen.”

Zoey giggled. “Sorry, babe! Allison called and we talked for like an hour, and I had a beer... or three! Time just got away from me!”

“Well, I was going to vacuum, but it’s better to dust and wipe the surfaces first, so any stray dirt from them goes on the floor and gets vacuumed...” He stared at her expectantly.

After a few seconds, it occurred to her tipsy brain that he wanted a response of some kind. “Oh! Uh, I was gonna have a shower...”

“Couldn’t you do some cleaning first?”

She giggled again, swaying a little where she stood. “I - I think I won’t be much use right now!”

Lewis rolled his eyes, turning away. “Fine. Go have your shower. I guess I’ll dust, wipe, and vacuum.”

“You’re a lean, mean, cleaning machine!” Zoey snickered, suppressing a burp. She staggered away to the bathroom, leaving her boyfriend to stare after her, any irritation he felt at her buried under weary resignation.

In the bathroom, Zoey turned the shower on and stripped nude. Catching a glance of herself in the mirror, she let her gaze linger on her reflection and bit her lip, growing aroused as she admired herself. A phrase she’d heard recently drifted into her mind: “Every curve makes sense. They shouldn’t together - and yet they do...” She wasn’t sure what that even meant, but it sounded and felt like a compliment.

She couldn’t resist the temptation to talk to the person who’d said that phrase to her.

Fumbling for her phone, which she’d left by the sink with the intention of playing a Spotify playlist while in the shower, she scrolled through her contacts and clicked on one simply labelled ‘D’. D by name, D by nature, she thought with a smirk, not for the first time.

As soon as she heard a voice on the other end, she let her hand drift between her legs. “Hey, I just felt like calling,” she said quietly. “No, he’s cleaning. He won’t disturb us... Yeah, it’s running in the background. I was just gonna get in, but I thought I’d call first.” She smiled wickedly. “Well, because I imagined you’d like thinking about me calling you, standing here and talking to you, completely naked... Yeah, I bet! Oh, sure, I can send you some selfies... Oh, but the water’s running real hot now, so they might be a little... steamy!”

***

After a shaky start with the dishes - partly from her misery over the pacifier situation, and partly because she was out of practice - Zoey got into the rhythm of it. The monotonous routine grew easier with every second - scrub, rinse, dry, scrub, rinse, dry, scrub, rinse, dry... It was kind of relaxing. Before she knew it, she’d finished the pile.

Shaking her head dazedly, she frowned. She hadn’t really been thinking about anything for much of the time she’d been washing up... not even the evil immovable binky. That made her uneasy. Considering how bizarre and scary her problem was, it was weird, and a little suspicious, for her to stop thinking about it for any length of time. What if the pacifier was affecting her even more than she thought? What if it wasn’t just stopping her from taking it out, but making her less and less concerned about it?

The idea of that scared her - and boosted her resolve. I have to fight this, she told herself wordlessly, standing up straighter and setting her jaw determinedly. I can’t let this... this thing take control of me. I need to tell Lewis what’s going on, and find a way to get it out of me, before...

No. She refused to think about what could happen, because it wasn’t going to. She was going to beat this. She turned away from the sink and made her way out of the kitchen, returning to the lounge.

Lewis was exactly where she’d left him, still hard at work on his computer. He glanced up at her as she entered.

“Thanks for doing that, babe,” he said cheerfully. “Hey, I still have a lot to do, so I might not be able to cook lunch. Could you handle it?”

Zoey nodded distractedly, unconcerned by the request. She hardly ever cooked, but it wasn’t a great hardship. The priority was to get a message to him, somehow.

She scanned the room with her eyes, desperate for something to write on - or, indeed, with. She and Lewis made extensive use of computers, televisions and games consoles, but rarely wrote on actual paper, so there were no notepads, sticky notes or pens just casually lying around in the apartment.

Or so she’d thought. Her gaze fell on a small box on a shelf in the corner of the room, and she let out a small, muffled squeal of delight. It was a box of sticky notes! She remembered that Lewis’ mother had given it to him for Hanukkah, and he’d carelessly tossed it onto the shelf. She darted over and opened it, retrieving the green square notes from inside. Now all she needed was a pen.

Lewis has one on his bedside table, she remembered. He takes it to work with him - tucks it in his shirt pocket, just in case...

She raced through to the bedroom, soon finding the ballpoint pen. Uncapping it, she quickly wrote a message in block capitals on the topmost sticky note: THERE’S A BINKY STUCK IN MY MOUTH. IT HAS SOME POWER THAT STOPS ME TAKING IT OUT, AND I THINK IT’S STOPPING YOU FROM SEEING IT. HELP!!!

She turned to exit the room - only to see Lewis approaching from the hallway outside. She jumped, startled.

“Sorry, hun, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he grinned. “I was just wondering - could you cook lunch now? I know it’s early, but I’ve been up for hours and working real hard, so I’m starving. You must be too, since you didn’t have breakfast...”

Taking in his words, Zoey found herself feeling confused, spacey, as if her brain couldn’t handle thinking about both preparing lunch and the pacifier problem at the same time. Making an effort to concentrate, she raised the pad of sticky notes and waved it in front of her, trying to draw her boyfriend’s attention to them.

But he seemed not to notice. “Zoey?” he asked impatiently, already starting to turn to walk away again. “Was that a yes?”

She blinked. “Mm-hmm,” she responded, nodding.

“Great. Thanks, baby!” And he was gone.

As she stared after him, her posture slumped. Her determination and willpower seemed to be evaporating - it was as if every time he asked her to do something, or failed to notice her predicament, the pacifier’s hold over her grew stronger. Uncertain what to do next, she felt herself starting to tear up.

Get a grip, she told herself. All binkies aside, you’re not a child. You can still get this message to him. You can beat this.

She only half-believed herself, but that would have to do.

Zoey returned to the lounge, brandishing the sticky notes - but Lewis was already back at work, and didn’t even look up as she entered. Admitting defeat, she placed the notes on the coffee table in front of him. Hopefully, at some point, he’d set his laptop down and see what she’d written. Feeling there was nothing more she could do in the meantime, she headed back to the kitchen.

Some twenty minutes later, she served up their usual Sunday brunch of choice - bacon sandwiches. Easy and delicious - much like Zoey herself, as she’d often joked. She set down the plates on the small dining table in the corner of the lounge, and took a seat. Lewis soon joined her, sitting opposite her.

“Man, that smells good,” he said happily, licking his lips. “Thank you, sweetie!” His words made Zoey feel irrationally proud. He picked up the sandwich and took a big bite.

As if that were a signal to her, Zoey reached for her own food... but stopped short. Of course, she couldn’t eat it - her mouth was still blocked! She shook her head in exhausted bewilderment. Why did she keep forgetting?

Swallowing his mouthful, Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Zo? How come you’re not eating?”

She just looked at him miserably, waving half-heartedly at the malignant object between her lips.

He gazed at her blankly for a few seconds.

Then, abruptly, he burst out laughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” he spluttered. “I just - I couldn’t keep it up any longer! God, your face is such a picture!”

It was Zoey’s turn to stare at him uncomprehendingly, though in her case the confusion was genuine. Lewis? What’s going on, baby? she imagined herself whimpering.

Setting his sandwich down on its plate, Lewis wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then brushed a tear of mirth from his eye. “Oh, Zoey,” he sighed, “you must be so confused. I think it’s about time I told you what’s going on.”