Distractions (11 page)

focused on me as I slowly snaked my

arms in the air while rolling my hips

back and forth. The metal chimes on my

scarf made a loud twinkling noise with

each dip of my waist. As the rhythm

increased, so did my movements. I

closed my eyes and felt the music

transcribing under my skin, directing the

muscles and bones in an orchestra of

bliss.

The sound started to come from

different directions as Shepard joined in

the dance. Walking slowly in a circle all

around, he no longer needed the music

and played by ear. It was so perfect and

raw, I dared not open my eyes and break

the spell. This was me in the purest

form; in this moment, my soul was

unshackled, if only for a song. He was

able to carry me for a while longer, but

his fingers gradually slowed due to the

intensity with which he played. His hand

reached up to my cheek to catch the tear

that had escaped. Setting the violin down

on the chair and then standing in front of

me silently, gentle hands held the side of

my face as he leaned closer to my mouth.

Instead of a kiss, teeth grazed my lower

lip and bit softly.

“Thank you,” he said.

He drove me into a frenzy and he

knew it. He didn’t have to try; it was

ingrained in his very being. I wanted to

make him experience the feelings he

created in me. An idea surfaced in my

mind. If he wanted to be entertained, I

would give him something to remember.

“Hold on, I will be right back!”

Shrieking in delight, I ran down the steps

quickly to grab a few items. I heated a

mug of hot water for some tea and filled

a glass with ice water. Taking both of

them carefully back upstairs, I searched

in my closet for another scarf.

He was sitting on the edge of the

bed watching me humorously flutter

about, preparing something.

“Okay, drop your pants and pick up

the violin. I want you to sit on the chair.”

Giving

a

serious

look

of

expectation, Shepard straightened up his

chest and smirked at my dominant

behavior. Without a word, he removed

not just his pants, but all of his clothing

before lowering into the upholstered

wing back chair. He licked his lips as I

folded the scarf in half and whispered

for him to close his eyes. After ensuring

he could not see a thing, I straddled his

lap and laid down the ground rules.

“Since you can play without

looking at sheet music, we will see how

well you play with distractions. The

more you play, the more you get played

with. If you stop, so do I. Can you do

this?”

As he simply nodded up and down,

I traced the outline of his lips with my

index finger before sliding onto his chin,

where I leaned in and dragged my teeth

along the stubbly curve.

“What do you want to hear?” His

brow furrowed in thought while asking

the question.

“Whatever your heart desires, just

don’t stop.” I laughed lightly as the game

began.

The auditory caresses penetrated

through every cell of my body. I watched

his fingers move across the strings,

giving just enough pressure to draw the

perfect sound. The small hairs raised on

every surface of my skin as I took in the

haunting melody. Removing an ostrich

plume from the vase on the dresser, I

dragged it across his torso in long,

smooth strokes. He squirmed slightly as

it brushed along his ribcage, yet refused

to falter.

Kneeling before him, I gripped his

swollen manhood with one hand and

took a drink from the warm mug of tea in

the other. Swiftly bending down I took

him in my mouth and allowed the hot

fluid to surround the tip as my tongue

danced back and forth along the ridges.

The bow skipped across the strings

briefly as he sucked in a chest full of air.

I tried not to smile, but it couldn’t be

helped. A stream of tea escaped my lips

and dripped down his length.

Allowing him to play a few more

measures before another shock, my hand

gently moved back and forth with each

interval as my lips planted soft kisses

along his stomach and thighs. I picked up

the ice water and felt his legs tighten in

preparation of the cold. I pulled a cube

out of the glass, placed it between my

lips, and then traced along his navel and

hips, down into the muscular V shape of

his abdomen that flexed with each pass.

Taking in a large drink of ice water, I

swiftly dropped my mouth over him once

more, taking in as much as possible.

Shepard lowered the violin to his

side and arched his back towards my

face. Quickly taking a sip of the hot

liquid, I plummeted down, drawing forth

a cry of pleasure. I hadn’t noticed he

removed the blindfold and was watching

in reverence as my mouth worked him

over. I knew this was another first I

could give him and make it memorable.

Looking up, his eyes were darkened, and

then shut tightly with the overwhelming

sensations. I didn’t stop like I warned;

this was too incredible to watch.

Without notice he pulled me off and shot

out of the chair, slamming me back

against the ground. His hands pulled

aggressively at the skirt to gain access to

my center.

“Damn, Violet.”

The yards of fabric only served to

frustrate him further. To prevent the skirt

from being destroyed, I urged him onto

his back to straddle him instead.

Grinning wickedly, I used my hand to

guide the tip of his shaft to my opening

before sinking down slowly. Moving my

hips around in calculated circles, I

continued the dance with him inside of

me, rocking to the tempo of our labored

breaths.

Shepard dragged his fingers against

the fabric of my bodice and down my

abdomen as I rotated my hips harder

against him. Leaning back slightly, he

pushed even deeper, causing my teeth to

clench. Growing restless beneath me, his

hands grabbed my waist and directed the

speed in which he wanted me to move.

To keep my balance, I placed my hands

on his chest and watched as he found his

release. I would never tire of witnessing

these fragile moments of intimacy.

Rolling me back over to rest

beneath him, he panted heavily as he

looked down at me from propped

elbows. “You never stop surprising me,

Violet.” His head lowered into my neck,

nuzzling along the curve.

Tracing the outlines of the muscles

on his back, I was thinking the same

thing…

Chapter 10 - It All

Falls Apart

I hummed along with the folk song

playing on the radio. The smells of

cardamom and chili filled the air as I

tested some of the spices we brought

back from the trip. Shepard had left a

few hours earlier and I busied myself in

the kitchen to keep from getting too

upset. Each time he left got harder and

harder, but the ache would ease slightly

a few days later. Thankfully, work

would keep me occupied and we could

talk in the evening, if only for a few

moments. I tried not to chide him for

being caught up in us, yet even I was

guilty of allowing my daydreams to run

rampant.

My sheets were saturated with his

scent, making me reluctant to wash them.

He was everywhere I looked, because

he worked hard with me to make this a

home. I thought at the time I was just

helping the neighbor’s kid make some

extra money in the summers with small

projects like painting and rearranging. It

had a more intimate meaning now; every

room had a distinct set of memories

attached to them. The food we ate for

lunch, music we listened to, and stories

we

shared.

It

had

been

polite

conversation; nothing personal was ever

shared. Now knowing how he felt, I

wondered how much slipped by me in

ignorance.

I barely heard the knock on the door

through the sizzling pots and music.

Peeking out of the kitchen, I could see a

silhouette through the frosted glass.

Wiping my hand on my apron, I looked

out of the side window to see Shepard’s

father, William. Opening the door

slightly, the scent of whiskey and

cigarettes immediately violated my

nostrils.

“Hey Bill, can I help you with

something?”

He frowned at my familiar use of

his name. I knew it bothered him, but he

creeped me out and it was something

small I did out of spite. As he wavered a

little before bracing his hand on the

frame of the door, I regretted answering

the knock. I had dealt with inebriated

jerks like this multiple times, but never

alone. Growing a little nervous, my gut

started to tell me something was wrong.

“Maybe you can…”

With a shaking finger he reached up

to touch my cheek and ran it down to my

neck where the rest of his hands grabbed

around my throat. Leaning in closer, I

turned my head to get away from his

disgusting breath.

“I gotta give that boy credit. I was

beginning to think he was a fairy. But

you…mmm… that’s impressive. Now

why don’t you tell me what he does so

well – that way I can show you better.”

I knew Shepard hated his father and

I understood why. He was revolting.

Before I could stop myself, I spit in his

face, which only served to anger him.

His constricting grip on my throat was

becoming unbearable. Just as I was

reaching up to pry his hands away from

my neck, his right fist made contact with

my cheek and nose. I heard the cartilage

and bones crunching like a soda can

beneath someone’s feet. Everything

happened so quickly, I barely remember

screaming and trying to get away.

Grabbing the front of my blouse,

another right hook connected with my

temple, knocking me down the flight of

steps. I felt my head bounce against the

concrete and the sting of the salt on the

walkway entering the fresh wounds. I

wanted to scream again, but the blood

choked out any noises leaving my throat.

The neighbors must have heard what

was happening, because I soon heard

sirens approaching. Then a circle of

people quickly formed around me,

shouting back and forth. I knew my body

was shutting down when everything

stopped hurting and the overwhelming

urge to sleep began. I held on long

enough for the ambulance to arrive.

Once the red lights began to flash against

my house and paramedics started tending

to me, I momentarily closed my eyes.

***

darkened world, unable to see or speak.

The pain was so unbearable that I

reached for something to squeeze with

my hands. I was connected to a type of

monitor because an alarm immediately

sounded. I heard feet shuffle in and

around me as the noise was silenced and

the voices conversed quietly among

themselves.

“I am Doctor Claira Thomas. You

have been severely injured. Can you tell

me who you are?”

Injured? What? I tried to speak

once again, but nothing came out besides

coughs and hacking noises.

“Do you need some water? Here, I

have a cup. Open your mouth and I will

put a straw to your lips, but drink

slowly.”

I opened my mouth slightly and felt

for the plastic. The sensation of cold

water hydrating my parched mouth was

like a gift from heaven. She pulled the

straw away before I was finished, but

promised more in a moment. I had to

take it easy.

“Can you tell me who you are