Friday, April 22, 2011
Wanderlust part 40 "A lemming plunging to its death"
Ugh. I slept and slept and hit snooze like ten times. Okay, not hit snooze. I reset my phone for 15 min intervals about ten times. SOMEONE kept me up v. late doing the allergy snore watoosie. And his name starts with M and ends with --an and rhymes with Dan but is not Dan!
So here we go, part 40. I might not be back until Monday. It all depends on this possible sinus infection and Easter weekend! We shall see.
Plus, I have a lot of food to cook. I think I'm making 1/2 the brunch we are to attend. Tada!
Happy Easter/Spring weekend!
by Sommer Marsden
And then a stillness as he realized not only the word, but the tone. There was something in his utterance. Affection at the least, possibly more, and I felt him stiffen up with something akin to anger.
“Hold still and let me untie you,” he said gruffly, cutting me off.
His hands came down on the silk tie, big fingers that should not be nimble working the knot with ease. “Don’t,” he said.
“We both…” But I cut myself off then. We both what? Heard it? Felt it? Knew it?
And what if the word and the tone had been a mistake.
He stepped back and I dropped my arms, rubbing my shoulders and then rotating them to loosen up the tension and get rid of the after-bites of pain.
“Shower’s free,” he said.
A swift and black anger flowed through me. What the fuck? I hadn’t done or said anything I regretted. Why was I being punished? Because that was sure as shit what if felt like. A punishment. And not the good kind that had the promise of an orgasm at the end.
“I’ll be back later.” He was stepping into jeans. No underwear. Just jeans over skin and a button down blue shirt. He dropped to the bed to pull on his boots and I noticed again—with an insane and damn near domesticated thought—that his scalp needed to be shaved again.
“What did I do?” I asked, surprising even myself. This kind of situation would, in the past, normally lead to shouting and yelling and bullying. On my part, mind you.
“Why are you leaving?”
“I need to.”
“Don’t.” Great wings of fear beat in my chest. My hand was shaking, I saw it like it wasn’t my own. I moved to him but he held up a hand.
“Don’t, Really. I need to take a time out.”
A child’s term. I shook my head.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered. Surprising myself yet again. Weakness was a no-no. Asking for a kindness, unacceptable.
He stood and kissed me briefly. A drive-by show of affection. His jaw was tight with anger or some other emotion. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be back. I swear.”
And then he was gone. My throat felt so tight, drawing air seemed a feat. I stood there, the echo of the door snicking shut seemed to rattle around in my brain. The door was shut but I stared, holding my breath, willing it to open back up. Willing him to come back in, say he was wrong…sorry…joking. Any or all of them.
The door stayed shut.
“Right,” I said to the empty room. The beds were covered in ugly blue comforters this time. The pressed board furniture a cheap chestnut color. “Right,” I said again and heard the high hysterical quality to it. It scared me and it pissed me off.
I turned to the bathroom on feet I could not feel. I turned the hot water on—only the hot water—and I stood in the scorching spray until my skin turned red and I had to bite my lip against the pain.
Then I crawled into bed wrapped only in a towel. My hair was soaked and I didn’t care. I left the lights on and flicked on the TV. No picture. Sound but just a black and gray and white flickering mélange of non-images. I could call Fallon at the front desk…
“Cunt,” I said and turned it off.
I hit the button on the clock radio and Bad Company crooned to me. Darling…if I live without you…I live without love…
When I dreamed it was of running my fingers over a long sharp blade. My skin split and bright light flooded out of me. Bright like strong sunlight bouncing off of water. A million diamond points of light glaring at me. And when the light stopped, I jumped from a cliff, dropping to the water and into the light. A lemming plunging to its death. And at the bottom, in the water and the light bobbed my mother, in her bright skirt with her big smile. She was smoking a cigarette and holding the hand of a little boy. A little boy with red sneakers and Johnny’s grin.
I was falling and I simply didn’t care. And even in the dream, that scared me to death…
Someone was messing with me. My wrists were being tugged, my hair pushed back. Sometime during my dream, I had started to cry and I could hear myself. Great wracking sobs that hurt my heart to hear, but exhaustion had kept me under and only vaguely aware. Aware of the noises I made and tears rolling back off my cheeks and into my hair.
My hair was still wet.
“Snowflake, put your arm out.”
I did it, recognizing his voice, feeling a brief shard of gratefulness that he’d kept his word and come back.
“What time is it?” I murmured.
There was a tightness on my skin and I tried to rouse myself fully to see what the bloody hell was going on.
“Just past four in the morning,” said a female voice.
I opened my eyes, my gut cramping with an oily and sudden fear. Fallon.
“What he fuck are you doing here?” I asked. I searched wildly for Johnny and found him by the front door. He looked grim. That did not bode well for me. For us. Hell, for someone.
“I came to play.”
“I was invited. “
I glared at Johnny.
“It’s up to you, “he said.
“No,” I answered.
He grinned at me but there was no real humor in it. “You didn’t let me finish, Really.”
I tried to sit up but while I slept they’d bound my wrists. There was no headboard and I yanked, thinking it should be easy to get free. Fallon leveled a nasty smile at me and said, “It runs under the mattress, doll. And it’s utility rope. My little offering for the party.”
God, I hated her.
“Finish,” I said to him.
“She stays, we play and then she leaves.” He said that part to her. She frowned but nodded. “Or I can leave you here to rent a car and I go on without you.”
This was all because he’d felt something. This was all because of earlier. I licked my lips trying to say that to him without actually saying that to him.
“Don’t try to change my mind,” he said to me. “Yes or no, Really.”
“I hate her,” I said, acting like she wasn’t there. Because to me she wasn’t. And she dam near shouldn’t be.
“I know. But that will make it better. Different. Interesting.”
“I don’t’ believe you.”
“Take it or o leave it.”
So it was up to me. My decision. Play with Fallon in the mix and then get her gone. Or watch him walk out. All because he said my name. All because somewhere in him he felt something for me beyond fuck buddy and car partner.
I stared into her eyes—brown flecked with an amber color. Feral eyes. Dangerous eyes. I nodded once and she trailed a fingernail down my bare belly. My stupid towel had long since fallen away. My hair was damp and twisted around my face. Fallon took the end and brushed it over my nipple like a paintbrush.
“I know you hate me,” she said, “but God damn am I going to love getting you to say my name.”
Johnny unbuckled his belt and said to her, “Take your clothes off.”