The other night dear, as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed I held you in my arms.
When I awoke dear, I was mistaken.
I just hung my head and I cried…
She got out of the shower, the steamy water on her muscles relaxed her. Her wet hair hung over her shoulders as she stood air drying on the cool tile floor. She liked the refreshing contrast as her skin cooled and the water evaporated. The mirror in the bathroom was fogged up. She stepped into the bedroom, the carpet was so soft under her feet and between her toes. By the glow of the bathroom light she found matches and lit some candles. Eric liked these candles though he would never admit it. She used them on special occasions like his birthday. She would light them for him tonight; perhaps leave one in the window so he could find his way back to her.
She stood in front of the mirror shedding towels. The candles left a nice rose scent in the air and the flickering light they made danced with shadows. This light was kind to her in ways people were no longer. She draws stares with her scars the way her tattoos once turned heads. Strangers knew something happened but would not ever dare to ask. She felt the bumps on her chin where her jaw hit, nineteen stitches. Her milky blue eye always waters now but this time it was a tear. She had an easy explanation that way; she could say ‘since the accident it always does that’ and not be lying. She felt the jagged seam on her arm where the pins are, it pains her if the weather is cold. Her abdomen is pocked with scars from the glass; they pulled so many pieces out of her torso it must have been half of the windshield.
She stood in front of the mirror taking an inventory. Counting what remained and what she lost. She ran her fingers over her chest and arms tracing her tattoos, the images warped and misshapen from where they had to stretch and tuck the skin grafts. She spent so much time in the chair having them done. Now they looked like a patch quilt. The sewing circle ran out of one pattern, so they swapped in another. The candles and shadows continued their dance, hiding the flaws of these patches but Lauren knew her new body too well. She had explored it as she healed, taking stock of herself. She stood in front of the mirror crying.
She dropped the pile of damp towels in the hamper and spread out on the bed. Her sandy blonde hair fanned out across the pillow. It was tangled and wet and beautifully messy. She ran her hand through it and felt the cool moisture between her fingers. My hair, she thought, my hair is still fucking glorious! Other women would kill for this thick, perfect hair. She smiled. “Damn right they would,” she whispered. She smelled it, of course it smelled great too. It smelled like green tea and citrus; that unidentifiable citrus that everything “citrus” smells like. Lemons, but not exactly.
She wanted to be held. She wanted Eric to play with her hair and smell it; to tenderly tuck loose strands behind her ear so he could kiss her face and forehead. She wanted him to tell her how desperately he wanted to fuck her; she wanted him to pull her hair while he did. Eric would normally be getting home soon. If he came home and found her like this, he would be on her in the time it took wink at him. She wanted him to come home and find his birthday surprise.
There would be no thud of the car door nor yelping of an excited dog. No “Honey, I’m home!” with a briefcase in hand like in the old television shows. This too was on the balance sheet, in red: lost.
She imagined he came in and found her waiting, wearing nothing but a smile. She had been playing with herself and had her toy out from her nightstand. She had been naughty and needed to be spanked. He had to put her over his knee and smack her bare bottom. Her ass shook as the delicate sting traveled through the soft tissue, deeper to where the nerves are so sensitive. She got wet as her butt turned pink and warm from his gentle spanks. He hit just the right spot every time, just hard enough, he was so good. He always whispered in her ear afterward. He told her how soft and nice her ass was, how much he liked to grab a handful of it and feel her back arch. He traced a finger up her back to where her hair fell, admiring her tattoos. He kissed them, trying to lick them off with his tongue. She teased him: “I know of a better place you can stick that tongue of yours.” This was the part where he rolled her over and worked his way up her thighs until the skin got smoother and much warmer.
She could almost feel him gently press her with his tongue, probing. She knew the sensation of his warm breath on her, his tongue pushing inside, gliding along, swirling. He flicked and sucked her clit and that drove her wild. Oh how she moaned and raked her fingers in his hair. He pressed his face closer and massaged her as she squirmed. His fingers rubbed her and pushed inside and when she could take no more she pulled his face up to hers to kiss him. It was so sloppy, her juice had gotten all over his face and while they kissed, she could taste it. She liked the taste of herself on his lips and now it was time to return the favor.
It wouldn’t take much. He was rock hard. Just a little something to help him get closer to the mountain top. She always liked the way he swelled in her mouth from the excitement. The tip was spongy and as she took him in more blood rushed to it and it would slowly pulsate. His breaths shortened as he moaned.
She didn’t really like giving blowjobs until she gave him a blowjob. She remembered the first time she gave him one. They went back to his place after the movie and had a few beers on the couch. She put down her drink and smiled at him. Everything was like well oiled ball bearings. He held her chin and kissed her. She was undoing his zipper and when they finished kissing she went down and took him all the way in. It didn’t take long, only a couple minutes. It was awkward, he wasn’t quick enough to tell her and came in her mouth a little. Some dribbled down her chin and the rest ran down his jeans on to the couch. She laughed and told him it was okay. She wiped her chin and swallowed the rest. She even offered to Google “how to clean cum stains out of couch cushions” while he changed. It wouldn’t do to be wearing pants with cum spots on them when his roommate got home.
She imagined this blowjob was like the first one. He came in her mouth and she stopped, wiped her lips with her fingers, and swallowed it. He wouldn’t get off that easy, she thought as a wicked smile crossed her lips, pun intended. She kept sucking him until he got hard again. His thick head bulged her cheeks and pushed against her tongue. He was ready again. She felt his hips and legs tighten. He needed some penetration now. She reached down and cupped between her legs; the sheets were wet. She wiped her hand on his lips and he licked her fingers. She guided him inside her and shivered with that first deep thrust. She could swear he kissed her cervix with the tip. That first one was always so good. It hurt a little but he was always on point with the rhythm to start because he wasn’t tired yet. He went deep and pulled almost all the way out, massaging the whole length of himself with her smooth warmth. He gritted his teeth, he was always a little sensitive. If he wanted to last, he had to pace himself. It was never a problem for her, she liked the changes. It kept her guessing. She liked missionary, it was not the most daring but it was nice for her. If given the choice she would ride him like a bronc. Missionary offered the skin to skin contact they craved, the smell of him as he exerted, his muscles as they tensed. It was arousing in its own way to be facing each other and seeing the ecstasy on each others faces, counting the fillings in each others teeth, holding his elbows as he worked and groaned. When he dipped to kiss her, she gently brushed his back, slick with sweat and hot with effort.
He must be getting tired, she thought, when he gets tired he goes all in. This was her favorite part. He spends himself entirely and gives everything he has to her. His pace quickened to a feverish haste. He was wild! He grabbed her hips, straightened his back and poured on more speed. He went really deep, their hips crashed with each of his thrusts. His hands squeezed her thighs pulling her into his cock. Her belly button started to tingle and her legs shook. A cry grew in her stomach and rose to a scream as it burned its way up her throat and out of her mouth like dragon’s fire.
He convulsed a few more times and collapsed on top of her, out of breath and without the strength to get back up. She filled with his warmth. It ran out of her, down her thigh to the covers. She too was drenched in sweat, unable to move. She rubbed his back while he kissed her neck softly. When he was able, he lifted himself up and kissed her chin, her chest, her nipples, her belly. After a long kiss on the lips, he got up and disappeared into the shaft of light from the bathroom.
She awoke to find that the candles had burned down and nearly gone out. No shadow broke the soft glow from the bathroom. She was alone. She rose and walked over to the mirror; looking at herself by the light of the sputtering candles. She looked down and almost felt his arms wrap around her shoulders. In the dim light she swore she saw his form embracing her from behind. She placed her hands on his arms. She tried to meet his eyes as he kissed her shoulder, but the image faded. She could almost be fooled.
Almost.
