deserve to be choked to death, and his mother didn't deserve to go through the pain of losing a son. Around her, Ted and I had always pretended to be the happiest couple on the planet. To this day she knew no different. At holiday gatherings and other visits, Ted's mother would gawk at us with sadness in her eyes, probably recalling fond memories of her own husband, who died at the age of fifty from prostate cancer.
The mattress shifted. I turned over on my back and found Flora crawling to me. She paused, like a cat stalking its prey, awaiting my instruction.
"Lie down ," I said, just to keep her away from me. Then, for some reason, I added, "On your back."
She did so quickly.
This obedience was something I could get used to. It excited me. The possibilities were endless. I could truly do whatever I wanted with her.
In a way, though, it was making things worse. Maybe if Flora were capable of making decisions, taking control of her own fate, I wouldn't feel so responsible for her. I wouldn't feel so alone.
Who was I kidding, anyway? We didn't have anywhere to go, and the police were probably looking for us already, especially with a crazed naked man running the streets and my husband stiffening on the shag carpet. If no one had found him yet, they would soon enough. Then what would happen? Fleeing the scene certainly made me look guilty.
Your life is over. You have no friends, you killed your husband, and you're going to prison.
When the word "friends" crossed my mind, I thought about Kate back at the company and realized I missed her. If I did have a friend in the world, it was her, and we'd only just met this morning. How pathetic was that?
"Melissa?" Flora said, lying flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. Did I tell her my name? I didn't remember doing so.
"Yeah, what's up?"
In the cutest, most pitiful voice I'd ever heard, she said, "Can I masturbate?"
I looked at her, lying there in that white dress with one hand re sting on her flat stomach, waiting like a child for permission. Beads of sweat on her neck and forehead, despite the chilly hotel air. God, she was beautiful. The sight of her made me cringe with both lust and jealousy. Something else, too. Fear, maybe, that I would miss my chance to be with her. To kiss her soft lips, to feel her electric tongue slipping inside me.
I sat up on the bed, facing her.
"Take off the dress," I said.
Flora grasped the sides of her dress and pulled down until her breasts plopped out, then wadded the top half up, scooted her butt off the bed, and slid the dress off, raising her legs vertically while she slipped it from her ankles. Her legs split in the air and lowered to the bed, spread wide, her tiny pussy slightly agape and glistening, beckoning me to put my mouth there.
She let her head roll to the side on the pillow, chin tucked down to her shoulder, and she gazed at me with her sparkling hazel eyes.
Fuck it.
I crawled over to lie next to her. She adjusted her head on the pillow so she could see me better.
The first thing I touched was her hair , but before I even made contact, her mouth opened and she drew in a sharp, deep breath, chest inflating, body trembling. My eyes were instantly drawn to her breasts, two flush pink nipples hardened like fondant atop her butterscotch skin. Her sweet smell intensified to the point that I wanted to bite into her, chew her up like candy.
"Don't move."
She didn't even nod.
Reaching across her chest, I slowly rested my hand on her side, stiffening with a jolt of desire each time a fingertip landed. I drew my hand up over her right breast, squeezed. She moaned.
Rubbing the tiny bumps of the areole summoned the bud of her nipple to rise, like Braille forming a secret language of enchantment and delight, spoken in moans and giggles.
T hen I leaned over and kissed it, the nipple poking through my closed lips. A tingling sensation washed over me. I
The mattress shifted. I turned over on my back and found Flora crawling to me. She paused, like a cat stalking its prey, awaiting my instruction.
"Lie down ," I said, just to keep her away from me. Then, for some reason, I added, "On your back."
She did so quickly.
This obedience was something I could get used to. It excited me. The possibilities were endless. I could truly do whatever I wanted with her.
In a way, though, it was making things worse. Maybe if Flora were capable of making decisions, taking control of her own fate, I wouldn't feel so responsible for her. I wouldn't feel so alone.
Who was I kidding, anyway? We didn't have anywhere to go, and the police were probably looking for us already, especially with a crazed naked man running the streets and my husband stiffening on the shag carpet. If no one had found him yet, they would soon enough. Then what would happen? Fleeing the scene certainly made me look guilty.
Your life is over. You have no friends, you killed your husband, and you're going to prison.
When the word "friends" crossed my mind, I thought about Kate back at the company and realized I missed her. If I did have a friend in the world, it was her, and we'd only just met this morning. How pathetic was that?
"Melissa?" Flora said, lying flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. Did I tell her my name? I didn't remember doing so.
"Yeah, what's up?"
In the cutest, most pitiful voice I'd ever heard, she said, "Can I masturbate?"
I looked at her, lying there in that white dress with one hand re sting on her flat stomach, waiting like a child for permission. Beads of sweat on her neck and forehead, despite the chilly hotel air. God, she was beautiful. The sight of her made me cringe with both lust and jealousy. Something else, too. Fear, maybe, that I would miss my chance to be with her. To kiss her soft lips, to feel her electric tongue slipping inside me.
I sat up on the bed, facing her.
"Take off the dress," I said.
Flora grasped the sides of her dress and pulled down until her breasts plopped out, then wadded the top half up, scooted her butt off the bed, and slid the dress off, raising her legs vertically while she slipped it from her ankles. Her legs split in the air and lowered to the bed, spread wide, her tiny pussy slightly agape and glistening, beckoning me to put my mouth there.
She let her head roll to the side on the pillow, chin tucked down to her shoulder, and she gazed at me with her sparkling hazel eyes.
Fuck it.
I crawled over to lie next to her. She adjusted her head on the pillow so she could see me better.
The first thing I touched was her hair , but before I even made contact, her mouth opened and she drew in a sharp, deep breath, chest inflating, body trembling. My eyes were instantly drawn to her breasts, two flush pink nipples hardened like fondant atop her butterscotch skin. Her sweet smell intensified to the point that I wanted to bite into her, chew her up like candy.
"Don't move."
She didn't even nod.
Reaching across her chest, I slowly rested my hand on her side, stiffening with a jolt of desire each time a fingertip landed. I drew my hand up over her right breast, squeezed. She moaned.
Rubbing the tiny bumps of the areole summoned the bud of her nipple to rise, like Braille forming a secret language of enchantment and delight, spoken in moans and giggles.
T hen I leaned over and kissed it, the nipple poking through my closed lips. A tingling sensation washed over me. I
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