We were both fifteen and had the earnestness of the painfully young, though, like all painfully young things, didn’t realize it.
My melancholia takes pleasure in the gray skies and dreary colors of winter. There are times when it settles, like an achy fever that colonizes in one’s joints refusing to break. Inside I am ancient. The old soul I bear looked out of my girlhood’s eyes into a world crammed with the garish and gasped, appalled. Reconciling the age I live in with the tenor of my being is like the weaving of new, boiled wool with antique lace. Textures collide. I long to be in the wilderness—capable and free—my grandmother’s Book of Foxfire as my guide. I fall of the grid when I’m like this, shunning technology as much as possible, fighting to find my roots… myself.
Warm. Then hot. Smooth. Then slick.
Aching. Then filled.
Today has been, perhaps, one of the most stressful days I’ve had in about six months. And there is a direct correlation between my stress levels and my sex cravings. I want nothing more than to be ravaged. I want rough, hard sex. I want to be battered by a hard fierce cock. I want bite marks on my breasts. I want a coupling that, were it to be viewed objectively, would look more like an attack than anything else.
I could text Lover. I could text him right this second. I could drive ten minutes and have the above thoughts turned into reality. And I might.
But I’m undecided. Things are flowing with Nathan, my out of town friend. We’re pairing like new cheese and old wine, each bringing out the best in the other. But he’s not here. And damn it. I’m on edge.
Alone, in the dark, between my soft cotton sheets, I watch a faux redhead recline and attempt to look sexy. And maybe she does… to men. I use the high speed scrub to fast forward four minutes into the eighteen minute clip. Past the coy undressing. Past the obligatory mouthing of the starring cock. Woah. Is he going down on her ? Yes, yes he is. I will just pick up from here. Oh yes. Very nice. My slit moistens and I tease my rosy nipples to hot points of desire.
And scene change. Oh good. He’s sliding the cock in. I’m glad I don’t need to speed through a round of attempted deep throating. There we go. Classic in and out. Good rhythm. I have the sound off so there are no distracting noises.
My vibrator purrs against my clit.
Now they are changing positions. It’s okay… the camera is still focused on the action. God that looks like it feels good. Damn I need to be ridden like that. Heck, I could be ridden like that if I had just thought to text Lover earlier in the day. Why didn’t I think of it? Oh yeah. No time. What time is it? Damn. I need to get to sleep or getting up will be a real bitch tomorrow. Focus Marian. In. Out. In. Out. I up the power of the vibrator and lean into it. That’s some championship ball slapping right there. Oh… Ohhh… OHHH… Mmmmmmm. Yes. That was lovely.
There’s nine minutes left of the clip. I don’t bother fast forwarding to the end. I know he will come on her face. And I will cringe thinking, no! No! Don’t get it in her eye! That’s gonna hurt like hell and feel like pink eye for a day and a half! Trust me. I know this.
Good thing I didn’t text Lover. I’ll get more sleep this way. Maybe I’ll text Lover tomorrow.
You know that moment? That instant when the light turns brown to gold and bronze, green to jade and peridot, shadow to whispers and dreams? That millisecond when time pauses and it is just you and a greatness beyond anything the tiny muscle between your two ears could have ever fathomed? That ephemeral stop between breath and exhale when the future explodes with colors yet unseen but transpires so swiftly that it’s a memory before it began?
She blew into my bustling southern town with windchiming laughter and honeysuckle smiles. Was it only a week ago that I rapped on the door to their hotel room, hearing laughter and faux arguments on the other side? It opened two inches. And then shut. And then opened two inches. And then shut. More giggles.
“Hy can’t work the door!” TN called from just over her shoulder.
“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” she insisted.
And then it swung wide, revealing my beautiful arms-open-to-life friend and her source of pleasure and pain, highs and lows, fulfillment and heartbreak—and I honestly can’t help but like the guy—The Neighbor. Hy and I hugged tightly. Her full breasts, encased in a low V-neck red dress pressed hard against my black cashmere clad pair. And then, before I had time to react she pulled my sweater up and covered my breasts with hot, friendly kisses. Continue reading
The anger boiled up inside, pressing, threatening to explode like an unpricked baked potato over a raging campfire. The speedometer needle raced past 100 mph as she maneuvered the black car through traffic on the freeway. She knew it was an accident, but his attempt to fix something that wasn’t broken would now cost them precious dollars they didn’t have.
Chloe pulled into the garage and stalked into the house. Bitter words that tasted of sulfur and acid bubbled in the back of her throat. Why couldn’t he have left well enough alone? Couldn’t he have found something else to do with his time rather than mess with a tiny little drip on the kitchen faucet?
When Sam looked up at her from opening the box that contained the $250 new chrome fixture he met her glowering stare with an angry look of his own before turning his back on her and continuing the repair. She had flared at him when he called to tell her what had happened. He had wanted her to come with him to choose the replacement but she had coldly informed him that she didn’t care and hung up.
Chloe started to speak but didn’t let the words get past her clenched teeth. Her heart thudded like the hooves of a hundred stampeding horses on hot asphalt. She opened an upper cabinet and slowly removed a plate. She walked out to the back porch and held the crockery high above her head, channeling all of her bitter words and hateful things she wanted to say into the helpless plate. Then SMASH! She flung it to the ground and watched it shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces.
She was in the garage when he found the remnants of her anger.
“Really?” he shouted, “Really?! You broke a plate?!!”
“Of all the childish things to do!”
“Well, now that it’s broken I suppose I’ll just have to buy new ones. That’s what we do around here.”
“You are a piece of work. You know that? A REAL piece of work. Why don’t you get your purse and leave. Just go.”
He turned on his heel and slammed the door as he walked back inside.
Chloe stood in the cold air absorbing the pain of his words. He had told her to leave. Years ago, when they had fought, she did. And when she finally came home he had told her that if she ever pulled a stunt like that again they were finished. Is that what they had come to? Is that what he wanted?
She opened the driver side door of her car, sat in the seat and cranked the engine. She put her foot on the brake and slid the gear selector into reverse. And then put it back in park. Chloe leaned forward, rested her arms on the steering wheel, put her head down and released a sob. What had she done?
The door to the garage opened. She heard Sam open the passenger door, slide in and close it. Chloe lifted her head and met Sam’s eyes.
“I’m truly sorry about breaking the faucet,” he said, “and I don’t want you to go anywhere.”
“No,” she said shaking her head, “I know you didn’t meant to. I just got so angry. I hate living paycheck to paycheck like this. I can’t stand that we don’t know where the money for a simple little home repair is going to come from. It’s so stressful. I shouldn’t have let it get to me so, but I did and I was going to say some horrible, hateful things to you. And I didn’t want to. So I broke that stupid plate instead.”
He reached out to stroke her hair.
“Darling,” she continued, “I love you so much and now I’m adding to your stress by letting you know how badly I’m handling this. But GOD… being broke sucks! And please understand that I don’t blame you. The stress just builds and builds until I want to explode.”
“I think you did,” he said with a smile.
Chloe sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“We’re almost through this,” Sam said, caressing her cheek, “we are so close. I know it’s hard and stressful, but in just a few months we’ll have some breathing room. Just hang in there darling.”
She smiled up at him with mascara-streaked eyes.
“Can I hand you your tools while you work?” she asked.
He nodded and kissed her forehead. They went into the house to face the future hand in hand.