Predictable. Boring. That’s what my life had become. The day, dull and routine. The sex, mechanical and fluid, moving from point A to point B without any real thought or emotion. Like sweeping the floor: back and forth, back and forth, until there’s nothing left to sweep.
Yep, I’m done.
We went to high school together and I’m sure he was never aware of my existence. He was too busy with those highfalutin girlfriends of his to notice what I was doing.
“Trey Cauldron?” I asked, visually brushing the length of him in one, solid stroke. His hand was on my arm, and he was sending a message as he squeezed it tightly.
“I’m surprised you recognize me,” he answered all proud of himself.
I almost didn’t, not in that business suit. And damn, was he tall. The last time I saw Trey, he was wearing a jersey and running down a football field.
“How could I not recognize you?” I answered.
He smiled and released my arm. And we stood there in the middle of the sidewalk forcing people around us for ten or fifteen minutes. We made small talk, the way old friends do, and then that small talk turned into small hints and subtle allegations, the sexual improprieties there between the lines.
He was only in town for a few days, he said. I could come by his hotel if I wanted to catch up some more. He was in a hurry now, had to leave. The pressure was on, intensified with each step he took down the sidewalk, and even more intense with each passing hour leading up to the moment I knocked on the door with the numbers 6656 fastened to the wood above the peephole.
I waited for him to answer, staring at the bronze numbers and frantically chewing on my spearmint gum, pulling down the front of my dress until I could feel the cool, night air hit my breasts. I wanted to look sexy and desirable. I wanted him to open the door and get an erection at the mere sight of me. If he did, that would mean I wasn’t a hideous freak, eligible to join the nearest circus known to give bi-annual raises to the ugliest in the bunch.
Oh, I knew I wasn’t ugly. But I sure as hell hadn’t felt all that attractive lately. I felt about as pretty as a blowup doll. Because that’s about what my purpose equated to once a week on Saturday nights after watching Hee-Haw. I glanced down at my wedding ring just as Trey was opening the door, then I blew the gum out of my mouth, watching it land in a puddle of… something… two doors down.
His silence spoke louder than anything he could have said. Death-gripping some whiskey, Trey took a sip, the bottom of the glass obscuring the lower half of his face. But I could see his eyes, and where they traveled to.
I smiled and pretended to brush the hair out of my face. He stepped aside and held his hand out, cool and calm as all get out, welcoming me to his castle. Why was this so easy for men? To casually invite a woman into their bed while we sweat out every little detail?
Is my hair okay? Did I put on enough deodorant? Will I taste like fish or is that a joke men use to intimidate us? I never knew…
He offered to make me a drink, and the alcohol melted my reserves, fueled my lust, and inflamed my neglected flesh. And once I had relaxed enough to kick off my shoes, Trey was kind enough to do the rest. My red dress fell to the floor, revealing the black camisole underneath. I nervously fingered the garter around my thigh.
“Sit right here for me,” he said, guiding me to the bed. His fingers flowed down my arms, and he whispered in my ear.
“I’m going to do things you’ve only read about in them magazines. I’m going to make you forget where you came from and where you’re going. I might even make you forget your own name.”
His hands cupped my breasts and I let out a muffled squeak.
“I’m going to tear you apart, orgasm by orgasm, then I’m going to put you back together again, like Humpty Dumpty, but better than before. I’ll do things your mama warned you about, making you hate her for lying about how good sex really is between two adulterers.”
My body shuddered as his hand wandered between my legs. His fingertips lightly brushed the middle of my silky underwear, making me tingle.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll go home saying my name over and over in your head until everything around you becomes unrecognizable, and the only way you’ll survive is by the faith that I’ll come back and turn you into a woman once again.”
Trey covered my eyes with the flat of his hand, and I waited–body aching, mind racing. I waited for him to do things to me that I’d only read about in them magazines.
Humpty Dumpty is an erotic flash fiction piece, inspired by Monster, a suspenseful romance available on Amazon.
Canvas art photo by Bobby Holland.