Maybe even enough for a whole conference.
Winnie’s hair smelled like toast. The
seniors were having bacon and tomato sandwiches for lunch. Chanel No.5 was
mixed in there, too. She always had a hint. Winnie’s father had a theory: millions
of men had been seduced by the smell, therefore, Chanel No.5 had become part of
the human male’s genetic pheromone radar structure.
Winnie didn’t want a man particularly. Wearing
it was an ode to her dad. Strange as could be, she didn’t love her dad at all, although
he’d suffered at the hand of Lauren, and that qualified him to be on the team
against her mother. Anyone on that team knew what was what.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Winnie. She
muffled the words into her pillow.
“Finally,” said Melanie. She leaned over
and kissed her hair. “Now you can let it out...what’s going on?”
“I can’t.”
“Just try, please, just say anything.”
“She won’t let me.” Winnie choked the
words out.
“I think you should go back on your
meds,” said Melanie, stroking Winnie’s hair and wiping the tears off of her
cheeks. Winnie was like a real live doll who could make tears.
“I mean, for a while at least. I know
you hate what they do to you... Win, look at what’s happening now—it’s worse.”
Mel would never ask Winnie to go back on
her meds, not really.
Winnie sat up abruptly.
“Remember when we were on the island?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s been happening to me...with her,
Alejandra. She’s been taking me away, to a place with elves.” Then Winnie
flopped. “I can’t tell you any more, she’ll know and be really mean.”
Melanie fetched a glass of water, and
coaxed Winnie to sit up.
“Winnie. You can’t start that again. You
need to stay out here with me. Take these and you’ll feel better.”
She slipped a Xanax bar past Winnie’s
lips and handed her the glass. Winnie drank it down and they cuddled and fell
asleep.
When they awoke there was the problem of
Alejandra. It hung in the air, like a game that might become real. It would become real. Before they could get into it again, Mel knew enough to just move
ahead. Otherwise they’d be lost on rants—insufferable tangents of imagination
and reality. Things would get broken.
Mel pulled out her journals.
“This will cheer you up. I have a whole,
big, fantastic project for you.”
She brought her bag to the kitchen table
and began setting everything out and explaining. Winnie followed, put her arms
around Mel’s waist from behind and held on tight. Mel handed everything over.
Besides the transcripts and Georgy’s notes, she gave Winnie her personal
journals. Handwritten stuff that went back ten years to the basement in
Vancouver, Peter and his friends... Back when she was twelve, thirteen. Winnie
didn’t know everything about Mel. Now she would.
“Look at these.” She showed her the hypnotherapy session
transcriptions. Georgy had finally given in. She’d gotten to him, holding back
an orgasm, teasing his cock with her tongue. In between licks and squeezes he
finally agreed.
The project manic flipped Winnie out of her dark side. She made a
new Word document on her laptop. Mel watched her type ‘The Man-Rabbit’ at the
top of the page and turn for a sign of approval. Mel nodded and made big eyes
at her. They sat and sorted things while Winnie made notes and organized
everything like a pack rat. They promised to send each other daily entries via
their computers. And they agreed that the dailies would be one hundred percent
the truth, always.
Then they went back under the covers on
the couch. Got tangled in each other. Scrunching toes, locking fingers, getting
hot, getting each other off. And they departed to the island together. Mel was
holding Winnie in her arms on the sand.
The Man-Rabbit stepped out of the
forest. She told him about Nigreda. He told her the truth about the mission and
Mel repeated everything aloud back to him as he had
Winnie’s hair smelled like toast. The
seniors were having bacon and tomato sandwiches for lunch. Chanel No.5 was
mixed in there, too. She always had a hint. Winnie’s father had a theory: millions
of men had been seduced by the smell, therefore, Chanel No.5 had become part of
the human male’s genetic pheromone radar structure.
Winnie didn’t want a man particularly. Wearing
it was an ode to her dad. Strange as could be, she didn’t love her dad at all, although
he’d suffered at the hand of Lauren, and that qualified him to be on the team
against her mother. Anyone on that team knew what was what.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Winnie. She
muffled the words into her pillow.
“Finally,” said Melanie. She leaned over
and kissed her hair. “Now you can let it out...what’s going on?”
“I can’t.”
“Just try, please, just say anything.”
“She won’t let me.” Winnie choked the
words out.
“I think you should go back on your
meds,” said Melanie, stroking Winnie’s hair and wiping the tears off of her
cheeks. Winnie was like a real live doll who could make tears.
“I mean, for a while at least. I know
you hate what they do to you... Win, look at what’s happening now—it’s worse.”
Mel would never ask Winnie to go back on
her meds, not really.
Winnie sat up abruptly.
“Remember when we were on the island?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s been happening to me...with her,
Alejandra. She’s been taking me away, to a place with elves.” Then Winnie
flopped. “I can’t tell you any more, she’ll know and be really mean.”
Melanie fetched a glass of water, and
coaxed Winnie to sit up.
“Winnie. You can’t start that again. You
need to stay out here with me. Take these and you’ll feel better.”
She slipped a Xanax bar past Winnie’s
lips and handed her the glass. Winnie drank it down and they cuddled and fell
asleep.
When they awoke there was the problem of
Alejandra. It hung in the air, like a game that might become real. It would become real. Before they could get into it again, Mel knew enough to just move
ahead. Otherwise they’d be lost on rants—insufferable tangents of imagination
and reality. Things would get broken.
Mel pulled out her journals.
“This will cheer you up. I have a whole,
big, fantastic project for you.”
She brought her bag to the kitchen table
and began setting everything out and explaining. Winnie followed, put her arms
around Mel’s waist from behind and held on tight. Mel handed everything over.
Besides the transcripts and Georgy’s notes, she gave Winnie her personal
journals. Handwritten stuff that went back ten years to the basement in
Vancouver, Peter and his friends... Back when she was twelve, thirteen. Winnie
didn’t know everything about Mel. Now she would.
“Look at these.” She showed her the hypnotherapy session
transcriptions. Georgy had finally given in. She’d gotten to him, holding back
an orgasm, teasing his cock with her tongue. In between licks and squeezes he
finally agreed.
The project manic flipped Winnie out of her dark side. She made a
new Word document on her laptop. Mel watched her type ‘The Man-Rabbit’ at the
top of the page and turn for a sign of approval. Mel nodded and made big eyes
at her. They sat and sorted things while Winnie made notes and organized
everything like a pack rat. They promised to send each other daily entries via
their computers. And they agreed that the dailies would be one hundred percent
the truth, always.
Then they went back under the covers on
the couch. Got tangled in each other. Scrunching toes, locking fingers, getting
hot, getting each other off. And they departed to the island together. Mel was
holding Winnie in her arms on the sand.
The Man-Rabbit stepped out of the
forest. She told him about Nigreda. He told her the truth about the mission and
Mel repeated everything aloud back to him as he had
Similar Books
