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Barely Legal I
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Vincent, freshly bathed with beads of water gathering at the fringe and a towel dangerously low on his narrow hips was a sight to behold.
But perhaps even greater, was a half-naked Blue, arm thrown over her eyes, hair sitting in a mass beneath her, his own tee-shirt ridden up around her stomach and briefless nether region on full display to the prying eyes of a particularly aroused and thoroughly showered man. Despite the primal instinct to amend her nakedness with his own mouth and take on his tongue what he longed to taste so dearly, he shifted his weight with a sigh against the doorframe and watched the full frame of his dear wife become cast with his own shadow. "Ever since I met you, I've pictured you in my bed like this,"
"You have?" The darkness enveloping her shrunk with his every step forward until all that remained was a fraction of the looming shadow that had been. Much to his delight, a sliver of the bathroom light fell between he
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Blue had never dreamed of being married at eighteen. She’d managed to cook dinner for them a handful of times, with the help of online recipes. Though she hadn’t eaten much at all after her weeklong battle with food poisoning post-hotel food crash diet. She’d changed their sheets on her own. Washed and hung the laundry with the help of Vincent’s housekeepers. Shaved the man. Washed the dishes. Rearranged the bedroom to her liking, more from boredom than anything. Managed to shower once a day for almost an entire week. Vincent, on the other hand, seemed to make no adjustments. He woke up at six-thirty in the morning like clockwork, no alarm needed. Rolled over and placed a quick kiss on Blue’s shoulder, who always turned onto her side in her sleep. Trudged into the kitchen where he made bedroom eyes at his beloved espresso machine while he waited for it to turn on. He would let Blue sleep until seven, after which he’d gently wake her. He’d brush his teeth whi
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Blue broke away. Hastily, she wiped at her lips and stepped around the corner with her arms out — Vincent watched with a small, half-hidden smirk of amusement… She was too caught up in pretending she wasn’t about to be finger-fucked that she failed to notice just how out of character it was for her to hug her mother. “Blue?” with stiff arms, she folded her daughter into an embrace, awfully careful not to mess up her hair. “I didn’t even know you were — when did you get here?” “The bus just got here,” She wasn’t lying — it was something she had become good at; telling the truth without telling the truth. “I’m lucky Vincent was coming in, the doorbell wasn’t working for me,” With a drop of the placid smile Marian had surprisingly managed, she turned to the man. “A business call again? Do you not understand the point of a Sunday?” “Insurance is a busy field; people are dying every day,” “Where’s the food?
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Blue hadn’t said much at all since she had chosen her station on the window ledge, ignoring the couch only two steps to her left that would have made just as much of a seat. Of course, she’d given a cursory thank you when Vincent had presented her with a steaming green tea and had forced a laugh when he attempted a joke about how the hard surface would flatten her arse yet failed to move from the jungle of skyscrapers that offered little-to-no entertainment. Truthfully, never in her life had she wanted the world to swallow her up more. A feeling with which she was ever more familiar. Yet lady fate had been ever the more cruel. She had rolled her ankle in her rush to escape, forced to sit strapped to an ice pack. She had spilt a fraction of her tea on the brand-new dress she had resolved never to wear again given such a horrid day, yet adored, nonetheless. She had neglected to eat lunch and now felt far too sick to eat anything and, to top it all off, had seven misse
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This time, Vincent took careful pause. Before she could grab ahold of his wrists and stop him, he was rising to his feet, pacing from her, tucking in the barstool he had been seated in only moments before as though he was searching for something to busy himself with — he was. “How long?” “My birthday.” Nervously, she wrung her hands in her lap. She’d imagined the conversation countless times over. He’d frown at her like he never had. Slap her, though this time not because she’d asked him to. Tell her to end the pregnancy. Scowl. Spit at her. Storm out. She’d be homeless. All at her own doing. “I have two pills in my tray from the day before and the day of,” Suddenly, the man’s shoulders shook. Her heart sunk. Was he crying? She stood rather unsteadily, making a slow approach. She knew what she would say as she did. She’d tell him he wouldn’t owe her anything if they divorced. She’d sleep with Richard, even at the price of her own s
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“I’ve been thinking; what if Richard had the right idea buying you a car?” Blue glanced over her shoulder from the couch as the man spoke. It had quickly become her spot. He’d cook her dinner despite the fact he had worked all day. Massage her feet as they sat on the couch and waited for the oven. Refill the tea she’d finally finished after letting it steep for an hour or two and turn completely cold. Gently smile as he slipped a hand beneath her skirt. Wrap an arm around her shoulders and tug her into his chest. Make her wish so dearly he’d call the housekeeper to finish the meal so she could lure him into their bedroom… He was pushing around two steaks in the frying pan, just as he had been for five minutes. Staring at the back of the woman’s head, he couldn’t help but consider what she had thought as she stared at the television rather aimlessly. He’d watched another man leave countless gifts at his wife’s doorstep that week. A car. A diamond necklace. Some simpl
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Blue felt rather whorish dressing as she had now that she was expecting. She’d worried the stomach that seemed to swell and disappear at mere minute intervals would show in a tight dress. That some passing woman would smell the pregnancy on her and critique her liberal choice of dress. The cleavage she’d eagerly paraded. The amount of thigh she’d presented the world. So, she’d worn a sweater. A rather old pair of jeans she needed a hair elastic to fasten shut. An ensemble far too warm for the New York summer. Yet comforting, nonetheless. Private in a way she so recently hadn’t been afforded.She’d tried to be early. A grave mistake. She’d convinced herself she’d awkwardly walk in, and the applicant representative would already be sitting there. He had tried to be early, too. He’d watch her as she made her approach. Fiddled with her hands because she didn’t know what to do with them. Stumbled on her own feet. Bounced
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The man who once sickened her so had long since become the itch she’d learned to ignore. Sitting stiffly, Richard groping at her thigh as though he was feeling up a supermarket apple for any bruises, Blue found she had bigger concerns. She wasn’t cheating—despite the fact she was on a date with another man. Yet she felt there was a reason she hadn’t told him. Worried it would bother him. Vincent wouldn’t approve of it… with good reason. Of course, he had no idea the man had forced himself on his wife alone in some public restroom. Or seemed to mastermind the whole engagement. Looked so plain and yet had the glint of a registered offender in his stare. She had decided not to tell him. She’d dodge any photo opportunities. Politely excuse herself before anyone worth any notice spotted her. Hurry home as though her husband would be waiting. She’d curl around the pillow as she had the night before, pretend she was holding some being close despite the fact
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Staring out at the living room floor, Blue saw a sight she never thought she would live to see: Marian playing with her grandson on the floor. It was unsettling, in an uncanny-valley way. Something so close to resembling human but just short of enough. She spun her engagement ring back and forth on her finger. He slid his arm around her waist. “’You okay?” She glanced up to the man stood at her side. His dark hair gathered into a short, thick ponytail. Eyes as bright as ever. Smile as devilish. Would it be so wrong to fuck like animals with her mother in the room next to them? After all, to a married couple, sex was the most natural thing. Or so she'd heard. “Yeah,” Blue sighed. Hugged her arms around herself. “I think so,” “How long is she staying?” “Until she can get the settlement money from Bradley,” “I didn’t think he had any left,” “It’s all
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It could have been hours by the time Blue came to. Usually, the state of her coffee would be a good indicator, but it had been stone cold for god knows how long. The sun was still up, if that counted for anything. She had left her phone at the house. Vincent was with the baby. She had stolen herself away for some quiet at the very café she had shared with both Vincent and Richard. Sat staring at her right hand where the engagement ring of the latter sat without a band. What was he doing? A thought that crossed her mind often. She hadn’t heard from him after the verdict, though still awaiting the sentencing. She had the thought that he was arrested for assaulting a police officer after his fiasco of escaping custody in the courtroom. Christopher wouldn’t have set any bail, would he? Not after he pretended to have been oblivious to his son’s sins. It would be hard to act surprised if he was actively helping his son as someone ought to. Vincent
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Blue stared at the city; Vincent stood at the counter behind her. The windowsill seemed to share her most pivotal moments more than even the universe shared them with her. Though her grief was one of the poorer-kept secrets of the world she felt marginally better whispering her thoughts to the brittle pane. Just as she felt gratitude Vincent had kept the apartment they’d outgrown with the baby for nostalgia’s sake. Or to bolster his net worth. Either one.She was muttering the same three words over and over. Repeated hoping that enough times would unencumber her or the rage that swelled with each inhale to expel them. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate… The world?“I should write him a very strongly worded letter.” She glanced to her husband, the man fiddling with a steaming tea as though debating which moment would be safest to present it to his wife. “But
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“So, I have a question,” Blue reached for her coffee, eyeing her maid. Well, she wasn’t her maid anymore. She was her mother-in-law. It was complicated. Pregnancy had somehow made her even fonder of coffee, maybe because she hadn’t had it. “Why did you tell me not to stay with Vincent when I told you I was pregnant if he was your son this whole time?” She couldn’t help but smile at her own sentence, taking a long gulp of the latte that had since gone flat. Vincent stared between the two silently. It was news to him.“I thought he was going to prison,” She simply shrugged. It was a good enough answer. Blue wasn’t sure whether Anya—Alfonza, as she had come to know—liked her all that much. “I thought I was doing what was best for everyone,”“So, you tell my wife to leave me?” Then came her husband’s booming voice, deep and accented. Ho
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Blue stared at the deep purple wrap dress in the mirror, sleeves to her elbows. Loosened the strings around her waist and tightened the knot again as though it would magically make her thinner. She was yet to properly mourn her pre-baby figure. She looked like a rectangle. A bloated, lumpy rectangle. Or so she thought quietly to herself. She tore the dress over her head.“I think we’ve found a winner,” Vincent entered the wardrobe quietly. Tried his best not to gawk at the woman in her underwear as though he’d never seen her half-naked before. Failed miserably. Wrapped his arms around her middle instead and pressed his mouth to hers. But she shoved him away. Turned back to the clothes instead.“We can’t do this, we’ll be late,” though she spoke as firmly as she could, she couldn’t help but smile softly to herself and blush as she leafed through her clothes without looking. The idea of let
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“It’s not fair, why can’t I go with Richard?” Vincent dug his heels in as he stopped behind his mother. Hoped a childish frown would move her enough to let her son be with his only friend. “I’m not a child anymore,”“I’ve seen the awful lot Richard hangs out with, you can either help me out for the rest of the day or go to the deli with your father,”“I’m a vegetarian.” He spoke expressionlessly.“Housekeeping it is!” Alfonza sounded a bit too cheerful for Vincent’s liking. Was it too late to call back the Taxi that had brought him straight from school? “Now find somewhere quiet to sit, I shouldn’t be any longer than an hour,”“I’ve got homework tonight, Ma.”“Then do your work here,” She smiled again. A bit too cheerful. Aga
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Her skirt was over her stomach in a matter of seconds, underwear kicked beneath the bed. Heart racing, fingertips beating in the tips of her fingers curled up into her palms, Blue spread her legs with no further instruction. Released a long, shaky breath as her husband hooked her legs over his shoulders and breathed into the inside of her thigh. But she stared at the roof. Watched the shadow cast by the lamp behind him loom over her, growing in size as he neared. And all she could feel was his hot, damp exhale fanning her center; his opened mouth quick to follow. “I still can’t believe I’m your wife.” She grumbled the words quietly, arching her back as his lips closed around her and his teeth grazed her labia. “I’m a lucky man.” He grumbled back, his voice twisting through her and carrying its echo deep into her stomach. “I can’t believe that you were so adamant you never wanted to see me again after your birthday party and now you’ve got your pussy i
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“Are you joking?” He had his wife’s face in his hands again, staring between her narrowed eyes with a look of expectation now not quite as well-hidden. “You actually went to the police?”“Of course, I did, all the love I had left for him went when I found out how much my mom actually cares.” She looked like she’d thought it rather obvious. Despite the fact she’d been defending him for so long. “He could be sentenced to death, and I’ll be happy to do it.”“You don’t mean that,” he’d released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. But she’d rocked forward. Wrapped her fingers through the sides of his hair. Met his eyes with a stare he wasn’t quite so daffy to break.“He told me it was my own fault Richard hurt me.”“But Richard’
