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Authors: Decimus Black
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the
trick. I looked at my gleaming arms and felt hot; could even smell the lavender
squeezing through the pores. I cocked my chin up, stretched my lips, and kept
my mouth slightly open. My hands felt clammy; I liked it wet. I reached for the
buttons on my shirt – starting at the middle. I clicked one open, my shirt felt
lighter; I clicked another, my shirt slid; I clicked the third, a black lace
became visible. Now do I keep my shirt on? Or do I–
His hand grabbed for my
breasts. I pushed him away. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘This isn’t fair.’
‘But.’ Can’t be pushing him
away all the time; need to give him some hope. ‘Do you want to open my last,
top, button?’ He nodded.
‘Then you’ll have to say–’
‘Please,’ he leaned forward,
‘Velvet.’ He clicked the last button. The shirt slipped from my body. He smiled
not at my face but at my stomach. He rubbed his palm across the surface and
licked his lips. He grabbed my back with both hands and gently pulled me closer.
He brushed his tongue around my navel and then kissed the wet saliva he’d left
behind. Each warm print from his mouth made my legs want to faint. A surge of
animalistic love rushed through my body and into my head. I don’t think it’s
possible to keep it all in – I want him inside of me. I ran my hands around his
shoulders (I like) and felt like taking his shirt off. He was two steps ahead
of me; his hand reached for my bra. He was about to snap it off when his phone
buzzed.
I thought he was going to
ignore it but then his hands slipped down my back and away. ‘Did you leave
something at work?’ He smiled and looked at his pocket. The thing kept buzzing.
‘Is it her?’ The buzz stopped.
‘Might actually be work,’ he laughed, ‘we’re in the middle of–’ his pocket buzzed. Why do things
like this always have to happen when you’re in the middle of something good? He
looked away as if it didn’t bother him but I could tell that it did.
‘Do you want to answer it?’
He grunted and pulled it out. I
could see her name flashing on the screen. Great. I walked backward.
‘Hey don’t go I can just–’
‘Answer it.’ He did. I picked
up my shirt and slipped it on. He sounded so calm over the phone; as if he was
in an aisle at Toys R Us picking a toy for their newborn. I shook my head and
went downstairs.
While swirling the soup, I could
hear him blabber. He was telling her that he was still at work – and that,
“Things got a little hectic,” and “Don’t worry we can have dinner together.” The
glittery liquid didn’t look so appetizing all of a sudden. So what does that
mean? Was he leaving? Did I make this soup for nothing? A part of me wants him
to leave her. The only reason I haven’t said anything is because they just had
a child. I’m not that cruel. I swirled the soup with rapid strokes. If he was
happy with her then why did he always complain about her? I shook my head and
heard him call for me. I don’t think I feel that horny anymore. Think I’m going
to tip this soup down the drain. He called again – this time I frowned.
I looked up at the ceiling. ‘James?’
I thought it was nothing, but then he yelled again. Was he crying? I walked out
of the kitchen and gazed up the staircase. He was – sobbing like a child –
trying to catch breath. I looked at the walls as if it could answer my
confusion. I think I knew why he was crying. Did she just find out about us?
Or, maybe a family member died, or worse, maybe his child. I rushed up.
I walked in while closing my
buttons. He was in the bathroom. ‘James you ok?’ I knocked on the door.
‘James?’ I heard him sit on the toilet seat. He didn’t answer me back. I
knocked again.
He blew his nose. ‘J-give a
minute.’
I wasn’t going to wait a
minute. I needed to know what was going on. I leaned my face against the door.
‘Why are you crying?’
‘Velvet please just give me a–’
I closed my eyes. ‘No.’ I felt
angry for
trick. I looked at my gleaming arms and felt hot; could even smell the lavender
squeezing through the pores. I cocked my chin up, stretched my lips, and kept
my mouth slightly open. My hands felt clammy; I liked it wet. I reached for the
buttons on my shirt – starting at the middle. I clicked one open, my shirt felt
lighter; I clicked another, my shirt slid; I clicked the third, a black lace
became visible. Now do I keep my shirt on? Or do I–
His hand grabbed for my
breasts. I pushed him away. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘This isn’t fair.’
‘But.’ Can’t be pushing him
away all the time; need to give him some hope. ‘Do you want to open my last,
top, button?’ He nodded.
‘Then you’ll have to say–’
‘Please,’ he leaned forward,
‘Velvet.’ He clicked the last button. The shirt slipped from my body. He smiled
not at my face but at my stomach. He rubbed his palm across the surface and
licked his lips. He grabbed my back with both hands and gently pulled me closer.
He brushed his tongue around my navel and then kissed the wet saliva he’d left
behind. Each warm print from his mouth made my legs want to faint. A surge of
animalistic love rushed through my body and into my head. I don’t think it’s
possible to keep it all in – I want him inside of me. I ran my hands around his
shoulders (I like) and felt like taking his shirt off. He was two steps ahead
of me; his hand reached for my bra. He was about to snap it off when his phone
buzzed.
I thought he was going to
ignore it but then his hands slipped down my back and away. ‘Did you leave
something at work?’ He smiled and looked at his pocket. The thing kept buzzing.
‘Is it her?’ The buzz stopped.
‘Might actually be work,’ he laughed, ‘we’re in the middle of–’ his pocket buzzed. Why do things
like this always have to happen when you’re in the middle of something good? He
looked away as if it didn’t bother him but I could tell that it did.
‘Do you want to answer it?’
He grunted and pulled it out. I
could see her name flashing on the screen. Great. I walked backward.
‘Hey don’t go I can just–’
‘Answer it.’ He did. I picked
up my shirt and slipped it on. He sounded so calm over the phone; as if he was
in an aisle at Toys R Us picking a toy for their newborn. I shook my head and
went downstairs.
While swirling the soup, I could
hear him blabber. He was telling her that he was still at work – and that,
“Things got a little hectic,” and “Don’t worry we can have dinner together.” The
glittery liquid didn’t look so appetizing all of a sudden. So what does that
mean? Was he leaving? Did I make this soup for nothing? A part of me wants him
to leave her. The only reason I haven’t said anything is because they just had
a child. I’m not that cruel. I swirled the soup with rapid strokes. If he was
happy with her then why did he always complain about her? I shook my head and
heard him call for me. I don’t think I feel that horny anymore. Think I’m going
to tip this soup down the drain. He called again – this time I frowned.
I looked up at the ceiling. ‘James?’
I thought it was nothing, but then he yelled again. Was he crying? I walked out
of the kitchen and gazed up the staircase. He was – sobbing like a child –
trying to catch breath. I looked at the walls as if it could answer my
confusion. I think I knew why he was crying. Did she just find out about us?
Or, maybe a family member died, or worse, maybe his child. I rushed up.
I walked in while closing my
buttons. He was in the bathroom. ‘James you ok?’ I knocked on the door.
‘James?’ I heard him sit on the toilet seat. He didn’t answer me back. I
knocked again.
He blew his nose. ‘J-give a
minute.’
I wasn’t going to wait a
minute. I needed to know what was going on. I leaned my face against the door.
‘Why are you crying?’
‘Velvet please just give me a–’
I closed my eyes. ‘No.’ I felt
angry for
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