Preparing for the Don

Proserpina

When I woke up to the familiar need to throw up, I was feeling drained. Leaning against the bathroom wall, I sighed. My life was unravelling and I had not contacted my colleagues at the Buddhist Centre all week. The blog remained un-updated too and I sighed, the tears trickling down my cheeks.

Worse, I missed the feel of Lucien in the bed beside me; his warm, reassuring presence, the way he would take me in the morning, rolling over on top of me even as I came out of the throes of sleep, the exquisite feel of his stubble against my body, his shaft urgently digging into me before plunging inside …Yes, I missed it all.

But I was damned if I was going to mope. I had to be strong, had to fight.

*

Splashing water on my face, I determined to look my best today; Lucien was going to bring his ‘son’ and his former playmate here this evening for dinner; a terse message had arrived on my phone to that effect. Well, I was going to be prepared for it, I thought, thrusting out my chin.

I