Monday, March 22, 2010

Chapter Three: Play

"I could corrupt you,
It will be easy.
Watching you suffer,
Girl it would please me.
I wanna touch you,
With my little finger.
I know it will crush you,
My memory would linger."
Depeche Mode - Corrupt


Warm Vanilla Mornings
Instead of a blonde, tanned, plastic Barbie doll grumbling next to me, I had woke to something different, something warm, something that smelled of vanilla and heaven. Surprisingly I had caught myself studying her for several moments, watching in awe as her bare breasts rose with each delicate labored breath, her skin glistening from the morning heat. I had to sustain my slight smile as even in her sleep her teeth nipped at her bottom lip.

Fake Plastic Art
There was no doubt, she was gorgeous, her body was the most perfect piece of art. Fake, plastic art, but art. She was tall, her bronzed, beautiful legs met the curvature of her ass in a perfect mold. Her hips seemed to have been sculpted by Donatello himself; they taunted nearly every man as she walked by. Her breasts, even though bought, molded to her frame in a perfect posture, her nipples pink and perky. Long blonde hair hung nearly to hear waist, and I grinned thinking how many times I had watched it graze over her ass as I had her bent over, daring to reach out and grab a handful.

Play.
She didn't have the time to play with me. I couldn't accept her treating me as if I was some child she had grown tired of raising. Her words washed over me as if I was a six year old wanting her to play with my Legos. Somehow, in this mess I called my life, I had went from her more than desirable husband to her bothersome child.
"Play," I grumbled as I rubbed passed her shoulder, stepping out onto the cool tile of the bathroom, steam fogging up the mirrors on the either side of the room.

Comfort of Leather
I wasn't up for small talk as I passed Maurice, our driver, and headed towards my SUV. He opened the back side door, as he did most mornings, taking my briefcase before I climbed into the soft leather of my vehicle. I relaxed the moment Maurice cranked the engine, basking in the familiar sound. I knew once I threw myself back into my work all thoughts of her would hopefully disappear. Still, it didn't help that she was a part of the case I was going to work on, but if I kept in mind how awful she was according to my client, then I could convince myself of her evil.
She might not have been evil that night, but there was something wicked about her.


Jittery Fate
Pulling onto the main strip, nearly a block away from my office, I glanced at a familiar coffee shop. It was far from a chain, like Starbucks, and was classified most often as a dump, however the coffee was fresh and strong and I often would frequently stop in when I was in need of an urgent pick me up. This morning something familiar caught my eye. I chuckled inwardly when I noticed a beat up old silver Volvo parked in front with a Washington license plate.
Ah, fate you fickle bitch.
Now it was my turn to play.

No Handouts
Before I could manage to open my mouth, he turned towards the door, walking away briskly. Every muscle beneath his perfect clothes, moved in flawless, fluid manner, and I had to catch myself as my mind starting drifting back to another night, another time, when we moved just as fluidly together in the bedroom.
I was about to open my mouth to stand my ground, to show him that I wasn't going to take his shit anymore, when he cut me down one last time.
He turned back towards me, raising his sunglasses to his eyes, shielding them, a sneer gracing his perfect face. "By the way Mrs. Newton, you can expect a bill from me. I don't do handouts."

Defeated
Feeling defeated after my run in with him, I had made my way to work in record time, not stopping to chat with my co-workers as I did on most normal mornings. Instead, I retreated to my desk and flung myself on top of it, the coolness of the metal feeling pleasant against my skin.
I suddenly had no taste for coffee and no desire to continue on with the work day. When had things become so complicated? Life, it seemed, was perfect back in Washington. I had a job, a husband whom I loved and would clearly do anything for, and a great life. Now look where I am. I felt like I didn't even know who I was anymore.

0 comments: