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Stroke I
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2020-07-29 19:42:34"You know, taking me to all your business meetings when my mother might have filed a missing person report by now probably isn't the best idea," Blue avoided Vincent's eyes due to the sheer possibility her cheeks would be bright red—he had kept one hand on the steering wheel the whole drive back to the hotel and the other on her; one part of her body or the other. Of course, when he laced his fingers with hers, the touch had been rather tame. At odd moments on the highway where he didn't have to think too much at all, he'd hook a hand beneath her underwear and trace the length of her in the most painful way she could ever imagine. She'd wanted nothing more than to fuck his hand as though her life depended on it but lacked the sheer valor and instead settled on rocking her head back and pressing her lips together as she fisted the edge of her seat and held back a cry of frustration.
"You're eighteen, Blue, I haven't stolen a child from their home—did yo
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Staring up at the man, she wondered if she should beg as she wanted to so dearly. Yet his eyes met her with the same softness they had standing at their do-it-yourself altar. Regardless of whether they married in haste out of pure necessity, Blue felt no guilt in taking for granted they’d married for love in those few moments. Convinced herself quietly that he cared for her as deeply as she for him. Sunk back into her own inventions where they ran away and started a family of their own. And though she felt a fond smile she hadn’t the mind to suppress would betray her fantastic delusions, Vincent merely straightened. Shrugged a throw over his shoulders. Pinned it beneath his arms. Hid the woman from the world as though they’d been watched and pressed into her somewhat gently. Traced the blossoming red marks that encircled her neck with his lips. Pushed his hips into hers rather crudely… Whether inspired by his ever-advancing orgasm or any genuine sentiment, he consid
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Blue hadn’t managed a week away from home when she found she had started to miss Anya. The woman had woken her every day for eighteen years. Bid her goodnight at the end of each day. Prepared her meals. Used the scented detergent she liked. Bought her toiletries. Listened to her petty grievances. Knew how to cook her eggs. How to make her bed in a way the loose sheets wouldn’t bother her. How to untangle the hair she was rather tempted to cut as short as she could. How to ease the girl’s worry with the gentle smile she always had. Though Blue feared Anya hadn’t missed her. Marian hadn’t crossed her mind in quite some time. She’d been away from home for a meager week. Vincent woke her each morning. They’d eat breakfast together. He’d set off to work, come home for lunch. They’d eat rather quickly. End up half-naked one way or the other, fuck and redress in a mere fifteen minutes. And she’d be left on her own until he’d return from work. With h
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Vincent, 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 dearwifebecome 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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The first thing Blue did when she woke up was roll over. And after that, she shot from the bed of knotted sheets and shook Vincent awake. It was a Monday morning, and two hours since they’d have left for breakfast — yet she lay beside him unshowered. Still wearing her pyjamas. It was the first time she’d slept a full night in days she couldn’t count. “Have you forgotten about your job?” Watching her husband grumble and bury his face in the nested pillows, she finally felt how he had waking her each morning. He turned after moments too long. Met the woman’s gaze with bleary eyes. Freshly shaven. He had already been up. “I’m working from home today, now come back to bed, won’t you?” “Why?” She watched as he pushed his fingers into his eyes with some sense of annoyance. Fought the urge to slap him. “Am I not allowed to spend the day with my wife, Mrs Carmichael?” “Don’t call me that.” She watched with a rather pointed stare as h
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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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“It is found,” Blue glanced up at her husband, her arse feeling rather sore from the wooden bench. They had been sat in court for what ought to have been five hours at that point. The room smelt of wood varnish and stale air, having the look about it of a church with generous natural light and the buzz of Catholic choir. Only the silence rattled through much the same way any prayer would. “That the Commonwealth has proven beyond a reasonable doubt,” She had stared at the back of Richard’s head the whole time, if only hoping he would meet her eyes for just a second. She feared he thought no one in the room was on his side, a feeling she had become well-acquainted with over the years. Nothing seemed more dreadful than being carted off to prison with that same feeling. How strange it was to think that the man she was so sure she would murder given the chance had sat on the living room floor playing with her son just a day or two before. Staring into her husband’s deep green eyes, she w
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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’
