Page 5 of Remnants
Kaitlin
THREE
ARE YOU STILL WATCHING?
I rollmy eyes at the absolute audacity of the streaming app to ask me such a ridiculous question.
“I get enough shit from James, I don’t need it from you, too,” I grumble as I hit the ‘yes’ option so that it will play the next episode of whatever show I’ve been dissociating to for the past few hours. I stare at the container sitting on my coffee table as a blush creeps up my neck.
Nora is so strikingly beautiful, and that outfit she had on this morning—it sent a feeling to my core I haven’t felt in years. A feeling that is supposed to be long since dead. I need to stuff those feelings into a box and set them on fire. I have no choice. Whatever is happening when I come in contact with her, when I think of her… and that dream I had last night… it needs to die. I am married and straight, like my family told me—what happened in high school was a mistake.
Shaking my head, I try to rid my brain of the images of her, as if my mind is some sort of etch-a-sketch. It must be a brokenone because she refuses to be erased. I feel bad for pushing her away earlier, but between the ridiculous and sinful attraction I feel toward her, and the fact that I’m a terrible liar, I felt it best to have her leave.
I am not sick; I look like I am from crying all morning. You would think after the morning I had, the crying was from heartbreak, but shamefully, it’s not. I’m crying out of relief. Before the sun was even up this morning, James was beyond livid because I tore his luggage. I didn’t mean to. It was so heavy and he was having me carry it down the stairs—I didn’t notice it had gotten snagged on one of the metal spindles and it ripped. He screamed at me, reminding me that it was a four thousand dollar bag. I gave him some attitude—it just slipped. I was flustered and nervous and I told him if he was that concerned he should’ve moved it himself. It was foolish on my part and the anger that came from him was to be expected. What I hadn’t expected was the lamp he picked up and threw at me. He said he meant for it to hit the wall, instead it hit me.
Why does this equate to relief? Because I now know for the next month, James will be the sweet man he was six years ago when we met. He won’t bring up my weight, he won’t control me, he might even tell me that I’m beautiful and that he loves me. As long as I stay in line and follow the rules, he will treat me like a princess.
James is usually good about keeping his dark side private, and he makes sure of that—most of the time, if he is going to take his aggression out on me, it is mental or easily hidden. Only a couple times a year does he leave a mark on me that I am unable to cover, and God help me, I hate how much I’ve begun to crave physical violence. The physical pain, it is like a vacation from the mental attacks. So, I’m full of relief. It’s shameful relief, but relief nonetheless. James will be gone for the next week, and while gone he will send me lots of sweet messages, like hehas been all morning. Then he will come home, shower me with affection, and I will soak up every second of it so that it can get me through until the next time.
The soft knocking at my front door grabs my attention. I furrow my brows wondering what or who it could be in the middle of the day. I don’t remember ordering anything, but maybe James had. Standing, I walk over to the door and open it. At my feet sits a vase of peonies, a grocery bag full of cold remedy items, special tissues, and a small brown teddy bear. “What on earth?” I mutter while plucking the little card out of the bouquet of flowers.
Hope this helps.
Happy thoughts
Xx Nora
After reading the note again, and then a third, and even a fourth time, I shake my head in disbelief. I glance up toward Nora’s house, looking for signs of movement, but somehow despite her limp and the cane I saw her holding earlier, she managed to get back to her house before I answered the door. That, or she’s a magician and vanished. I scoop up all of my gifts and bring them inside the house, locking the door behind me.
Setting the bags and flowers on the counter, I pull out the stuffed bear and study the light brown creature. I inhale the toy and let out a shaky breath as I realize the bear smells faintly like Nora. Sandalwood, vanilla, and something spring-like mixed in.
I smell the bear again, this time taking notice of how my nipples harden as her scent consumes me. I release a small moan and bite my bottom lip before smiling and walking to the room I sleep in. I don’t bother to turn on the light in the darkroom as I find my way to my bed and lay down, staring up at the dark ceiling.
Am I really, after all these years, about to do this? The guilt I feel in my stomach begins to wage war against my growing arousal. Holding the bear to my nose again, I breathe in while running my hand up my shirt and cupping my breast. “Mmmm…” I whimper as I slide down into the waistband of my pajama pants, telling myself that maybe this is all just in my head. Maybe I’m not really as excited over her as I think I am. My finger hits the top of my slit and I let out a surprised gasp.
Moving further down my folds, I nearly shake. I can’t remember ever being as wet as I am right now. My fingers brush over my clit and I let out a low groan. I haven’t been touched in so long, not even by myself. I remove my hand and shimmy out of my bottoms before reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a box. In the box is my toy: a vaginal and clit stimulator, nothing too fancy, but it is quiet, which is what I need because if I dare to do it when James is here and he were to hear it, I would be in trouble, and then he would make me…
I shake my head.No, I am going to enjoy this.I know the guilt will come later, but right now, I don’t care. Closing my eyes, I turn on the vibrator, running it up and down my folds as I try to think about random women I find attractive. That game doesn’t last long, though. Nora keeps flashing into my brain and eventually I give up on trying to push her out. Instead, I allow her to consume my fantasy.
I let out a long moan as I think about it being her hand holding my vibrator.
“Does that feel good, Junebug?”
I pant as her voice fills my head, her scent all around me.
“That’s my girl, come for me.”
I thrust my hips up and groan louder as the toy moves in and out of me, faster and faster.
“There you go, listen to how wet you are. Is this all for me? Come on, baby, call my name, you can do it, let go.”
“Oh god! N-Nora!” I cry out as I am pushed to my edge and beyond. Arching my back, I force the vibrator to stay deep inside my center as I ride out wave after wave of pleasure. My entire body shakes as electricity courses through me. It’s too much and I scream louder as I orgasm again… and again. All while fantasizing of her between my legs. Her holding my toy, her wearing a toy while thrusting into me.
When the sensation becomes uncomfortable and I’ve lost track of how many back-to-back orgasms I’ve given myself, or how many times I’ve cried her name to the heavens, I remove the toy and lay still for several long seconds while trying to regain my composure.
Filthy
Sinner
