She hated it when he left on one of his business trips, lately, he seemed to be gone more than he was home. She loved him so much and felt so abandoned and unfulfilled these days. Luckily, her bedroom was her sanctuary where her toys kept her company when he did not.

She could do wonders with water too. Her bathtub was her favorite place to be, knowing just how to set the running water to elicit an exciting, throbbing orgasm. Most of the time, she just did it with the water but today she was especially horny and wanted one of her fabulous, flexible, toys. She had acquired quite a few over the years, small and large, some from those at home lingerie parties and some from her favorite adult toys shop.

After booting her dogs out of her bedroom, she crossed the floor to the bedside table and opened the bottom drawer, where she kept the most favorite toy of all. It was blue, rounded on one end, shiny, soft rubber with a variety of settings, designed to bring her to the height of delight. Mindful of the open blinds yet not caring, seemed to bring a heightened sense of excitement and an urgency to get the job done. In the past, even when living alone, masturbating in front of an open window (especially made safer being it was two or three stories high) always made her feel dangerous and upped her ability to achieve orgasm.

Crawling on her bedspread with her ass up in the air and her legs spread, she applied a gentle pressure and turned the vibrator on to the second level. Her heart quickly began to accelerate as she moved the toy exactly where she needed it to reach climax, all the while envisioning a passerby happening on the scene unfolding inside the bedroom. She needn't have worried, as the windows had a dark screen over the outside, possibly preventing prying eyes from what was taking place, yet the thought alone was enough to get her going.

Scrunching the bedspread in her left fist as her right worked the toy until she was close to ecstasy, she also fantasized she was getting licked from behind by a tall, dark, stranger who just happened to show up out of nowhere. Once he got her good and wet, she imagined him taking her ass and shoving his decent sized, fully erect member where no one else had been in years. She imagined the pain would be temporary and the continued vibration working her erogenous zones would make it more than tolerable and with that, she came almost violently. 

'That's what he gets for leaving me alone all the time', she thought as she made her way sassily across the bedroom to the adjoining bath where she planned to shower and get back to her daily activities, now that her cardio was properly taken care of. Come to think of it, the shower massage was just another toy she could add to her box, an imaginary place she stored all her fantasies and the tools she used to get what he couldn't or wouldn't give.

She remembered another time when she was a hot, young thing, before she knew what a real toy was or that such a thing was even available, she would use the base of her toothbrush or even the handle of her hairbrush, never inserting, just playing across her clitoris until she brought herself to the height of ecstasy. She never even considered that these were a type of toy themselves, she just learned early on how to please herself when a man was not in the picture. 

Before she was married, she had been engaged to a handsome, mysterious man who was so obsessed with her and wanted only to fulfill her sexual desires any way he could. She longed for that kind of relationship again and wondered why it never worked out for them. Why, they never needed any kind of toy save for a pair of handcuffs or a nice silk scarf to have the most titallating, exciting sex of her life! However the more she thought back on it, the more she remembered, like the fact that he wanted her in bed more than out of it. He liked to tie her up and tease her until she begged for mercy, sometimes fucking her until she was sore. She related such a story to her mother once who urged her to break up with him before he really hurt her.

She remembered another time when he ignored her "safe" word and, thinking she was drunk enough, attempted to take her from behind while she was tied, spread eagle on the bed, blindfolded for extra sensory delight, yet that was not what she felt on that particular occasion. His Greek heritage should have made her aware of his dark intentions, but she had trusted him not to take the game too far. That was her fault she guessed, and as he plunged into her back side while fingering her hot, wet vagina, she screamed and he claimed she was just that into it. So he kept going but her rigitidy caused her to tighten her anal muscles and he actually ripped her sensitive tissues. Now she remembered why they didn't work out. That kind of adoration and possession she could do without, thank you very much.

Maybe it was her lot in life, she thought, to be stuck in a safe and boring marriage, with only her toys to please her when her urges reached a fever pitch. She figured what was the harm, he never suspected (as far as she knew) and she always made sure to make him feel like a man when he was home and gave her any affection. It just seemed to her he was gone an awful lot, how many business trips could one employer want? Maybe he was having an affair, no that couldn't be it. After all, she had bought him his own special toy...oh wait! What if he had it with him

A rainbow dragon.

A badass mermaid.

A unicorn.

I haven't talked to her in ages, too deep in my own depression to pay attention to her pain, too far to be able to hug her when she needed it. 

I only reached out to her when her posts turned truly dark and found out that I wasn't there the day she overdosed, when her heart stopped and had to be brought back by the medics. I didn't know that they were barely able to save her, that she spent several minutes being dead. 

I don't know where things went wrong, why this bright young girl turned so desperate and I have no words to offer that would make it better or show her she's worth staying. 

But she loves glitter and she loves rainbows, so glitter and rainbows she shall have in her mailbox every morning to let her know someone out there is thinking of her and another one every night before the dark makes it easy for the doubts to creep out of the shadow. 

Another dragon.

Another mermaid.

Another unicorn.

For as long as it takes. 

*The following is an excerpt from my book The Empress. Additional chapters are published under https://www.wattpad.com/user/zlatoluna. I hope you enjoy!

I push the last, smallest earing into its place and close it with a faint snap. "There," I turn my head to admire the crescent of shimmery amethyst stones along the edge off my ear.

"Purple is such an underappreciated color," I tell the girl in the mirror. Her face is still white as a ghost. I know she's scared senseless that she'd say something wrong, do something wrong, that the evening will end with her in a prison cell or the cage.

She curtsies without lifting her eyes from the floor, "As you say, Your Imperial Highness."

I contemplate my own face, the beginnings of the wrinkles smoothed out into unnatural flatness by the custom powder House of Akilah delivered just last week. It matches my skin tone perfectly, as they promised it would. "Do you think I look beautiful?"

"Of course you do, Your Imperial Highness!" She lifts her arm to her mouth as if she couldn't as much as think of the possibility of me not being the perfect beauty she just proclaimed me to be.

"What was your name again?" I snap my fingers, digging through my memories. I always make a point of learning their names. It makes dismissing them that much more personal. "Ah, Cassidy. Being able to command armies with one wave of a hand is so much more... interesting than being beautiful. You should try it sometimes." I check the other cheek, satisfied with the hint of rose on my pale skin. It's funny how much more popular pale skin became since I ascended to the throne.

"At the same time," I get up and the silky fabric flutters around the back of my thighs. "It helps when I can play it up for the envoys," I wink at her. "Men are inclined to be much more patient and forgiving with a pretty face than an ugly one."

"As you say, Your Imperial Highness," she repeats mechanically. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have the ability to follow my reasoning right now. Maybe I should try to reign my temper in a little with the staff. It's a third maid this week, after all.

"Leave," I command before I send her to the reformatory for being irrationally scared.

She scuttles toward the door as if I were a tiger bent on eating her alive, not a woman barely ten years older than herself. Why can't they find me a decent servant anymore? Does bravery no longer exist now that the revolution is over?

I cross my dressing room and slowly twirl in front of the oversized mirror with all its angles and crevices, designed to allow me to see myself in a way traditional mirror never would.

The thin, sleeveless coat hugs my torso and shows off my chest without being too obvious about it, while the frilly bottom reaches half way down my thighs, then shortens all the way to my hips in the front, a feminine touch designed to make me seem a little softer and yielding than I really am. The deep, rich purple of the fabric intensifies the green in my hazel eyes.

I catch a glimps of the TV screen behind me. The show is replaying the interview with president Matachi, the pretend head of the Orsino Republic. I wonder why they even bother putting a puppet up for the show when he has no real power to speak off. Besides, I've already seen the footage and the maid should've known enough to anticipate that. The mindlessness of the servants in general is rather frustrating.

Maybe I need to force the generals to train a couple of soldiers in the art of court service. I'm sure they'd do much better than the disorganized village girls, who spend entirely too much time thinking about their boyfriends and babies to really pay attention to the job.

Besides, I get along with men so much better than with women. I suppose it has something to do with the revolution and the way I ended up rebuilding the armies before I was old enough to marry. Too many hours spent in the command tent and not enough room to cultivate my feelings.

Too bad Gower, the master of ceremony, thinks it's unbecoming of a lady to be served by men in private.

He supposes it would send a wrong message to the all the prospective grooms we've been leading around by their noses for the last twelve years. I'm not entirely sure if they're expecting me to be a virgin; they will be disappointed if they do, but it's one image that needs to be kept up before it becomes too obvious that I don't intend to accept anyone's hand in marriage.

I straighten the simple circle of a crown on top of my head, my favorite one of the many the old emperor left behind in the palace safe. It was suggested I have a custom one made, one that personifies who I am as a ruler. I find that this one does just fine.

Maybe I will marry a soldier. They are used to following commands and wouldn't require much training to be molded into the prince consort. One day, when the advantage of being considered a marriage prospect is no longer needed.

"Your Imperial Highness?" A knock comes from the door, followed by the familiar voice of my chief advisor and closest counselor.

"Come in, Madoc!" I nod to my image, satisfied with the message it projects.

"Your Imperial Highness!" He bursts into the room, still breathless from the run up the stairs. He really needs to realize he isn't as young as he was when we chased the old Emperor down the palace stairs. "Prince Sion himself will be attending the banquet as a part of the Calina envoy!"

I turn back to the mirror and smooth away flyaway hair that somehow unwound from the thick braid that goes all the way around my head. "I see. Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Anyone else would retreat, their shoulders round, worried about the punishment I would choose for their incompetence. Not Madoc, though. Madoc doesn't waste his time on agonizing over his own destiny, not until my own problems have been solved. That's why he's the only one who can hope to bring me news like this and come out unscathed.

His mirror image meets my eyes. "We only just found out, by accident too. A servant that returned from Calina's embassy a month ago recognized him while he was in with refreshments for the ambassador. He notified us immediately and we've verified his report at once. There wasn't time to ascertain the reason for the deception, but you should know he will likely be present at the gathering and might seek you out."

I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin. "Remind me, what do we have on His Royal Highness, Prince Sion?"

"Twenty-seven, the second son of King Octavio, spent most of his years in the library, very good at diplomacy with a penchant for adventure stories. That is, he prefers to read them rather than create his own."

Only years of practice prevent me from rolling my eyes. I'm not sure how they expect me to marry someone so unlike myself. He isn't even the crown prince, the third prize in a hat full of seconds.

"Well, then we'll just have to see what the purpose his little ruse was, won't we?" I smirk to myself. I've dealt with worse than a bookish prince, younger than me to boot.

"As you say, Your Imperial Highness," The corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. He's known me since before my father died and stood by my side while I rose through the ranks to the commander of the army. Formed the army, really. He knows what I've been through and he isn't worried about one daddy's boy, even if his daddy happens to be a king. "May I accompany you to the ballroom?"

"The hail storms have... have destroyed a significant number... number of fields in the south. We're... we're anticipating shortages in... in almost every crop that comes from the Lake... Lake region." Delaney's advisor is out of breath while he tries to keep up with us on the way to the office and he has the advantage of not having been forced to wear a dress. A flowery dress and two-inch heels, the back of my mind complains bitterly.

I make a mental note for Madoc to have him run a few rounds around the palace every day. I can't stand inefficiency and he clearly isn't up to the task as is.

"Unfortunately, it's all mostly fruits, which means little reserves in the storage," Delaney adds next to me, completely comfortable with the pace. "The prices are soaring."

"Have them cut the palace orders to one-third at most. That should help with getting the prices a little lower. Inform the cooks that they should adjust the menu accordingly and see if there's anything they can do without entirely."

A servant scuttles by, his shoulders hunched down and his head hiding between his shoulders the best he can.

I catch his arm. "You, run to the kitchen and have Alexei make me my favorite sweet tea, then bring it to my office." I meet his eyes. "Yourself."

He nods in a response, not nearly as worried as he should be. In fact, he's almost smiling. "It'll be an honor, Your Imperial Majesty."

I only half listen to the rest of the report while I lead the procession of advisors and guards down the hall toward my office door. I stop at the threshold. "You have your orders. I'll send for you if anything else arises."

I watch them disperse into the little offices along the corridor, their noses in the little notebooks, scribbling notes for later. The guards check the room, then take positions by the door, a well-rehearsed ritual of me entering my own office. Lance wanted me to keep two on the inside, just in case, but the four outside was where I drew the line. I'm not ready, not even after all these years, to have someone intrude on my every waking moment, particularly not someone I know only by their first name.

I make myself comfortable and reach for Lance's report on the rebels. I have all the important parts pretty much memorized, but pretty much isn't good enough for what I have in mind.

A knock on the door reminds me that there's another business to be settled. "Your tea."

"Your tea, Your Imperial Majesty." I raise my eyebrows. "Come in." I wait until he closes the door behind himself. "You seem to have a very peculiar difficulty remembering the appropriate way to address the Empress."

"You could say that I have a peculiar dislike of titles in general. Particularly ones that require the use of more than one word." He puts the tea in front of me and sits down without being prompted. "Having a good day, my lady?"

"Acceptable so far. I do, however, seem to be having some issues with my memory, Prince Sion. I recall telling Sir Idris very clearly that your presence in my palace is... unwelcome."

"You must be mistaken, my lady. My name is Skip, Skip Hellina, your faithful servant." He smirks.

I stand up, walk over and lean against the desk right next to him. I don't know why exactly, but I want to be closer. Maybe a part of me is wondering if the memories of his touch were amplified by my temper running high that evening. Maybe I need a change from Lance, I've become lazy in that department and stuck with the familiar for way too long. If he only weren't a prince. "Well, Skip, you bear an uncanny resemblance to a certain prince that I've specifically forbidden from visiting. I don't pay nearly well enough to make the risk worth your while."

"A big risk translates into a big reward. I intend to win." He smiles. "Tell me, my lady, what did your advisors say about the rebels?"

I pull my shoulders up and raise my chin higher. "It hasn't become an issue worthy of my attention yet." Then I falter again when his lips curve up just slightly. He sees right through the act, probably after having witnessed thousands of similar performances at his father's court. Add the fact that I much prefer a straight forward talk to acting and I'm probably not that difficult to figure out. "Unfortunately, you were right. They are becoming a threat."

"I'm glad to hear the situation was sufficiently explained." He bows his head before he looks up expectantly. "Now, my lady, tell me, why are you so afraid of me?"

There's a good chance I actually cringe when he says that. "I'm not afraid of you. There isn't a single man in this kingdom that I'm afraid of."

He stands up and stops right in front of me. I have to tilt my head back uncomfortably if I want to see him in the eyes and that doesn't make me feel any more in charge after I admitted he had been right. "Never mind how truly ridiculous that statement is. All smart men..." He smirks, "and women are afraid of someone. Especially the ones who have as many enemies as you do, my lady. But as far as you go to get rid of me, that makes me think there must be something more that you're saving just for me."

I burst out laughing, a full, real laugh at his misguided expectations. "Don't flatter yourself, Prince Sion. Anyone asking for my hand gets treated the same way."

"You have no intentions of marrying for the country? Are you too much of a romantic to treat it like a business transaction?"

I'm now laughing even harder. "Definitely not a romantic. I simply..." I cut my eyes away for a second, "don't plan on sharing my power with anyone."

"Not even the rebels?" His smile looks a little strained now.

The mention of the rebels in the middle of the conversation cuts my laugh off immediately, but I recover fast. "Prince Sion, I don't think the rebels are interested in sharing the power, either."

He, of course, misunderstands my reaction. He steps closer, so close I can almost feel him through the thin fabric of my sundress and lifts his hand to stroke my cheek. "I can protect you, my lady. I don't want any of the power, just the responsibility of caring for you. Imagine having someone who genuinely cares by your side."

I swat his hand away and freeze him in place with a glare that comes directly from the middle of the winter. "Prince Sion, do not touch me uninvited. I don't know the customs of Calina, but in Juniper it's expected that the man gets a permission first."

He backs away immediately and I regret my words the moment the heat of his body dissipates into the empty air. "I apologize, my lady." He bows lower than he's done so far. "I didn't realize that my touch would be that unwelcome. Please, forgive me for the intrusion."

The frustration that ebbs in my veins makes me close my hands in fists. He misunderstands that as well.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I..." He blurts out, but I just shake my head resolutely.

"Oh, shut up, Prince Sion. Pack your bags, go home and find yourself a different politically advantageous bride." I don't mean to sound bitter, I should know better than to allow anyone to hear that. I wouldn't have made that slip if he hadn't get me quite this frustrated.

In two long steps, he's back in front of me, closer than before. His hands land on the table, effectively trapping me between the hard wood of the table and the warmth of his chest while he bends down to my level. "I'd be long married if I planned on marrying for political advantage. I'm not going anywhere, not until I find out why you insist on staying alone. I know you're not the impregnable fortress you pretend to be. I can tell that you're just as intrigued by me as I am by you. And yet... You run."

I want to laugh at him again. Or maybe glare, glaring sounds like a good option. Isn't it what women usually do in these circumstances? I could at least kick him in the nuts. Now, that would be a response to a man's advances that I'm more than familiar with and I have to say I usually do enjoy when they writhe on the floor in pain. They should know better.

I close my eyes instead. I can't face him right now, not his dark glowing eyes. I need to get him out of the room, make him give up, hightail it back to daddy. I want him to kiss me.

He's still staring at me when I look at him. "Julianna, I'll..."

"You'll leave or I'll throw you in the reformatory, prince or not." I gather the remains of my dignity. No one has used my full name in ages. It sounds unexpectedly soft from his lips.

"You'll do no such thing." He seems too certain about it, enough to return some sense to my brain.

I punch up with the heel of my hand and he flies back. It wasn't even a hard stroke, just enough to get me some space to work with. I'm holding his arm and pulling him back, my foot ready in front of me before he ever realizes what's happening. He never had a chance. He trips and hits the floor hard. I almost feel sorry for him. That had to have hurt.

Somehow, he still manages to twist onto his back. I'm not fighting as hard as I would if he were a real threat and that costs me a few precious seconds before I land on top of him, the few seconds that divide me from getting him into a lock he wouldn't be able to get out of and him gaining enough room to move to get his hands free.

He doesn't look as surprised as I would've expected. In fact, he's smiling again. "If this is what you wanted, you only needed to ask." He lifts his chin toward my legs wrapped tight around his torso. "Although, if it's all the same to you, I generally prefer to be the one on top in the bedroom."

I look down at my sundress, bunched around my hips and my bare legs touching his sides. I really couldn't have chosen a worse day to switch my usual pants for something more girly. Damn Elinor and her insistence on softening my image in an effort to combat the public perception.

He plants his warm hands half way up my things and caresses the sensitive skin with his thumbs. The prickles of electricity it creates cloud my mind make it harder to hate myself for allowing him to keep his hands free. I want to move, but the firm grasp could just as well be glue where my oddly weak muscles are concerned.

"Does it make you feel more in control when you fight? Does the uncertainty and self-doubt go away? Does it release your frustration?" His fingers are drawing little delicious circles on me and all I want to do is melt against him.

I don't respond. I don't think he's expecting me to, anyway.

The door bursts open and two of my guards pile in, their guns in their hands.

"Your Imp..." One of them starts while he's taking in the scene. He turns beet red a second later. "The servant didn't come out... The noise...We worried." He stammers over his words, clearly not entirely sure whether he's expected to back out as fast as he can or give me an apology first.

I jump up, nearly as embarrassed as he is. "It's fine, Jasper. Leave now."

Prince Sion gathers himself up much slower once the door clicks closed. "My lady, I don't know what demons you're fighting, but I don't give up that easily. I'm not leaving on my own."

"You're going to lose this game, Prince Sion." My voice is still raspy from my breath catching in my throat earlier. The skin on my tights still burns with the memory of his touch and I can only imagine how it would feel if he kept going. "I will have you removed."

He gives me a playful smile before he closes the door behind himself. I know he doesn't have a clue about what to make of me. I feel sorry for him, I really do, so many confusing signals that keep him on his toes. I will make the call again, though. I'm used to making tough decisions. For the country and for myself. 

If I let him come any closer, I might explode. He holds all the power, all the cards. He knows this, it's his game and I'm just a player. I know this, yet I let him come inside. I want something to happen. My gut says he's dangerous. The stars say, run away. Yet I play his game. His fantasies are my fantasies, his thoughts my thoughts, we are ying and yang. A perfect compliment, but an explosive disaster. I question his motives, and I question my motives. Am I being honest if I say that this isn't serious? Am I lying to myself to protect my heart? He wants a casual relationship, an open relationship, a swinging relationship and I say I do, too. But I'm not sure if I mean that. I don't want to lose him, but I don't want to miss out on this adventure either. Our year long friendship turned into dirty late night story telling, has morphed into something I've never experienced. We decide that our friendship is strong enough and decide to test the waters. 

"Rules", he says. "We have to have rules so that we are both comfortable". 

"Like 50 shades rules", I say.

"Well those too, obviously. But rules for who we see, where we see them".

Neither of us have ever been in a relationship like this, but we've both researched it and found that it is definitely something we both desire. Talking about our expectations turns me on, and he knows this. We decided to not touch each other for 30 days. The 30 days was to make sure we were both on the same page, and to strengthen our relationship while we made plans to move forward as a different kind of couple. We knew it was rare, what we wanted. We made it well over a year as best friends, so the anticipation of our sexual conquests will either be a bust or the biggest bust both of us have ever had. I'm hoping for the latter. 

His hand brushes my bare thigh when he reaches over to grab the iPad off of my lap. I quiver, and goosebumps fill my body. My nipples get hard and I replay our conversation from last night in my head. "Say it one more time and I'll punish you. I'll take you and bend you over wherever we are, and punish you. Is that what you want?" he said. Instantly wet, I respond, "yes". He knows what I'm thinking about and smiles a sideways grin, and runs his hand up my thigh. 

"I thought no touching, John", I say. Hoping he'll keep going, but higher this time. 

"It was an accident", he says, laughing and grinning, then biting his lower lip. As he moves his hand higher, I tense up and put my hand on top of his, guiding him where I want him to go. I dressed in the shortest shorts I had on purpose, just to flaunt it and to make him want me more. I made sure I was clean shaved, just in case. My fingers intertwined in his, we move our hands over my shorts, around my thighs, letting his fingers slip gently between my legs and then pulling his hand back, then firmly up my hips and to my waist. I guide his hand and tuck his fingers just underneath the waistline of my tight shorts, letting him feel the lace of my panties. I push the iPad out of his left hand and climb onto straddle him. I can feel his rock hard cock bulging and I make sure to place myself right on top of it, letting him know that I know he wants me.  

"Okay, rule number one", I whisper into his ear, "define 'no touching'", as I rocked my hips back and forth, making sure to stroke his hard cock with each movement. 

He sternly grabbed my hips pressing me deeper into him, looked me right in the eyes and forcefully said, "No fucking for 30 days". I was drenching wet. Even hearing him say those words were enough to get me off. 

"So this is okay, then?" I said softly, as I kissed his ear, then neck, and tasted his sweet sweat. I heard him inhale deeply, then exhale. "And then what about this?" I moved my tongue and my lips down his neck, kissing forcefully and blowing softly, and then I found his lips. I gently bit his lower lip, tugging and sucking on it, while he simultaneously moved his hands from my hip bones to my ass cheeks, pulling me forward and even further into his chiseled chest. He picked me up and turns me onto my back, laying me down gently and staying right with me on the leather sofa. I pull him by his T-shirt as he climbs on top. I arch my back and pull him into me, aching for him. I grab his rock hard cock with my hand through his blue jeans, and I squeeze it and let out a moan. 

"Do you want that", he asked me, smiling down and biting my nipples through my baseball tee. I didn't answer, just grabbed his face with both hands and brought his lips to mine. He repeated the question, his lips on mine, taking his hand, rubbing his fingers rough on my clit on the outside of my shorts. "I can feel how wet you are, I know you want it. But tell me how bad you want it?" 

"Bad, I want you inside me bad", I said with a panting, eager voice. "Are we breaking the first rule?"

"Only if you want to be punished". 

"Punish me". 

Gale was nervous. Gale was in the shower and going over things in her head. She was seeing Jake for the third week in a row and he hadn't made a move. A slight kiss on the cheek and it was almost as if he avoided the deep kiss she was looking for. She had gone over to his place or he came over for dinners and movies and then to the porch for drinks. 

She did a quick suds and rinse and thought "Shit!" This guy had her thinking about quitting smoking! And they haven't done it yet...what was happening to her!

She felt like this guy was into her and what was he scared? Gale was scared, too? What if things didn't go write after they had sex and then what? What if it would be bad sex? I mean to have GOOD sex, you had to have BAD sex, right? What if he didn't want to do anything because of his wife?

Gale shut off the shower and reached for her robe and put it on as she toweled her hair. She opened up the window and opened her bathroom door and pulled in the bar stool she kept in the hall way. When you don't have room for a vanity, you get inventive.

She pulled out her face wipes, did her face and then started in on her make up after the bathroom lost its heat from the shower.

Gale had stopped at the lingerie shop at Logan's and got a silk garter belt and thigh highs.

She was at least going to try she thought as she brushed out her hair and reached for the hair dryer.

She got dressed, a black skirt and a pullover over her red and black bra that accentuated her tits. She looked in the mirror, adjusted her chest, smiled and said, "OK girls, let’s go get us a man!"

Across the ally, in the three-flat next door, Jake was making dinner, he rushed home after hitting the local store for some last-minute items. He had everything laid out, he believed in mise en place and was able to get things started as he hopped in the shower. Fifteen minutes later he came out, showered, dressed and getting everything ready. It was the week before Halloween and had on a turtle neck and khakis. He pulled out the salad in a bag because he learned his lesson and pulled the red wine he pulled out of its bag.

As he was pulling dinner out of the oven the doorbell rang. "OK, calm down" he said to himself. He shut the oven off and walked to the door and opened it. Gale stood before him with a big smile, "Hiya" she said as he was just staring at her. She looked fantastic and incredibly sexy. He caught himself staring and she smiled brighter as she noticed it, too.

"Come on in...", Jake said. "I'll have dinner on the table in a few minutes. Go ahead and sit down." As Jake went into the kitchen, Gale followed him in.

“Anything I can help with?” Gale asked and she moved in behind Jake so that she brushed up against him. He turned as he felt her body rub against his arm.

He smiled and said, “I’m OK.”

As he turned to get the serving dishes, she rubbed against him again and said, “It’s no trouble at all, really I can help. You always do everything, let me earn my keep at least.”

He leaned over her, not losing eye contact with Gale, and opened the cabinet door and pulled down two dishes and then closed the cabinet.

Still keeping eye contact with her, he put the dishes on the counter and then said, “Is that what you want, all eyes on you?”

Gale smirked, “I really did come in here to help…”

Jake looked blatantly at her chest and then focused on her eyes, “Look I just checked out part of your package and yes, they look and from what I felt, should be magnificent. But let’s…just take our time. If I wanted this to be just about sex, I could have continued on that path of women whom I have no connection with other than just having sex with. With you, there is so much more…or am I wrong about us?”

Gale looked at the floor, “I should go” and then started for the door but Jake reached for her.

He swung her around with a force she hadn’t expected and he brought her into his arms and kissed her. A long slow passionate kiss that she had wanted but wasn’t expecting.

Jake reached behind her, moving his hands to her back and rubbed. Then moving his hands up her arms not breaking the kiss. He rubbed her arms, and brought his hands to her face as continued giving Gale the kiss of her life.

She broke the kiss, “Well…” and then she kissed him back and while good not as long. Jake pulled back and said, “This can be reheated…”

He took her by the hand, grabbed the wine and stopped at the wine-rack for the corkscrew. “We might get thirsty…” and continued to lead Gale to the back of the apartment to Jake’s bedroom.

Jake set the bottle and corkscrew down on the dresser and brought Gale to the bed, he kissed her once more and then kissed her again as he brought her turtle neck up and over her head. And he bent down to kiss her again tongues searching, tasting, yearning to be explored.

He pulled back a bit and sucked on her bottom lip running his hands down her back feeling her skin and then searching for the clasp of her bra.

Gale giggled and said, “Up front” and Jake moved his hands to her breasts, stroking the tops of them, feeling their silkiness before unclasping her bra and letting it slip to the side. Jake kissed gale again and then leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and shoulders to her breasts, moving to each one before slipping a nipple into his mouth suckling them.

Gale moaned, breathing heavy she held the back of his head and as she reached for the zipper of her skirt, he tapped her hand. “No, you’ll get what you want, but we’re doing it my way”

Jake reached behind her and unzipped the skirt, letting it fall. He spun her around quickly and put his finger tips on her back and moved them down her back and Gale gasped as he cupped her full ass. He whispered in her ear, “Oh the fun we are going to have…”

He spun her around to face him and hooked his thumbs around the waist band of her thong and bringing them down as he knelt in front of her. Jake moved his face in to kiss her belly and pushed Gale back against the bed. When her knees hit the bed, she fell back and Jake swooped in and ran his tongue along her pussy lips breathing in her sex.

Sliding his tongue along her lips, he nuzzled his nose to the hood of her clit, Gale moaning. Jake made a deft motion moved his hands under her ass cheeks as he began moving the skin of her hood back with his tongue and swirling and flicking his tongue over her and over against her.

Gale brought her hands to the back of his head and urged him on as he was going down on her. She wasn’t expecting this and she came quickly as Jake was tensing and releasing the pressure of his tongue against her clit. Pausing to suck on her lips and catch his breath.

Jake was good at this. And as Gale was about to come, Jake inserted a finger into her pussy, then two… stroking in and out as his tongue and lips remained her clit.

Gale was cumming and Jake didn’t let up, he continued to swirl and flick his tongue as her orgasm was building. She pushed his head away as she was shaking.

Jake got up and took his shirt off, then his t-shirt and wiped his face with it. Gale got to the edge of the bed and reached out to Jake and pulled him close and started unbuckling his belt. He stroked her arms as she unfastened his pants. He reached down to remove his socks and he looked down as she worked his cock out. She opened her mouth sucked him in. “Oh my…”

Gale was slowly bobbing her head as Jake stood there and he looked in the mirror, “God this is hot” She pulled back and said “What” and then she saw her reflection and then staring at herself as she slid her tongue along the length of his cock… she smiled and said, “Yeah it is.”

He pushed her back and dropped his shorts and then she went to loosen her garter belt Jake stopped her, “No! Those stay on, you are so hot in those, I love them!”

And with that, he was so hard he wanted…needed to be inside of her and feel her wetness around his cock, he pushed her back and put her hands on her knees and she smiled at him as he pushed her legs aside. She wrapped her knees around him as he entered her saddle. She inhaled as his cock slid between her pussy lips and he entered her, slowly to savor in the sensation of being inside her.

As he began to thrust she was started to thrust back against him, quickly finding his rhythm and getting in sync with him pulling back as he pulled out and lifting as he thrust in.

He loved feeling her thigh highs wrapped around his waist as he was thrusting in her. But he wanted this to last so he pulled back and flipped her leg over so she was on her side, and he entered her from that angle and began squeezing her ass cheek as he was fucking into her.

And he lasted as long as he could before pulling back again, this time moving her to all fours and gripping her ass cheeks as he slid into her from behind, fucking her as long and as hard as he could.

She had such a great ass and lovely tits and all he wanted to do was savor this moment, of knowing her. He wanted to burn this into his memories, because life could be fleeting and he wanted to enjoy this memory forever.

The memory of her on his bed, tits splayed to the sides and his hands gripping her full ass cheeks, about to cum into her wet pussy.

The young girl waited patiently as her best friend inserted the DVD.

“This movie messed me up.” her friend exaggerated.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” the girl reassured her friend with a smile.

“Alright, but be ready for nightmares,” her friend teased.

Nightmares…

The sound of yelling echoed through the little girl’s ears. She could hear a man and a woman’s voice. Muffled arguments that went back and forth came through the small crack under the door where the living room light shone. She could never tell how long they lasted, but it would always eventually stop, leaving only silence in the darkened room. Immediately after the voices quieted, the little girl would silently be lulled back to sleep.

“You’re staying at your grandparents’ house for the weekend while your mom and I…sort some things out alright?” her dad told her with a soft smile.

The five-year-old gave him a thumbs up and returned a smile as he buckled her into the car seat, unaware of what was happening. I mean, how could a five-year-old understand? But the mind always finds a way to explain.

That night, the small child tossed and turned in her bed. Her heartbeat increasing and pulse racing. She remembered running, but from what? She turned her head to look back, but a voice snapped at her.

“Keep running! Don’t stop!” the voice screamed at her.

She didn’t argue. How could a five-year-old argue with her own mind? She kept sprinting from fear of whatever was chasing her until she eventually woke herself up with a start. With adrenaline coursing through her, she frantically looked around. The young girl was never afraid of the dark until that moment. The darkness suffocated to her and the fear of the unknown crept over her tiny body. She screamed and called out for her parents. However, it was her grandmother that entered the room and found the child in a puddle of tears.

“What’s wrong?” her grandmother repeatedly asked as she tried to soothe her.

The girl shook her head at her grandmother and yelled, “I want my dad! I want my mom!”

The girl continued to sob until her tears ran dry and she was left utterly exhausted.

Her grandmother eventually left the room and the girl was once again left in the dark. A few moments later, she could hear the crystal clear voice of her grandmother in the kitchen.

“Your daughter just had her first nightmare and where were you?” she said.

“Nightmare,” the girl mouthed to herself. She stopped listening to the conversation after that. She had hoped that it was only a one-time thing, but it was only the beginning.

A week later, the young girl was sobbing once again, frantically clutching her mother’s right leg.

“Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave.” The girl repeated over and over again.

Her mother said nothing, even when the girl’s dad intervened and pulled the child away. And without a single word, her mother walked out the door. Leaving both a heartbroken father and child.

That night the girl laid in bed in darkness and silence. No more arguments and no light. It should have been easier to sleep, but to her, it was only a reminder that there was one less person in her home. Those thoughts played in her mind as she slowly drifted into sleep.

She saw her mother. A door behind her. She couldn’t move and watched paralyzed as her mother put her hand on the doorknob and twisted.

She yelled, “Mom, don’t leave!”

Her mother never responded as she slowly opened the door and left. It was only when she closed the door, that the girl realized she could move. She sprinted towards the wall and reached for the knob only to have it elude her small grasp. Every time she tried to hold onto the knob, it was as if it passed right through her hand. Given up, she banged her tiny fists on the door repeatedly calling out for her mom to return.

She continued until the hard wall began to turn soft and she slowly opened her eyes. She sat, twisted in blankets and tear stained pillows. Her dad sat at the edge of the bed rubbing her back trying to calm her down and waited until her breathing evened out. Once, the fear of her nightmare left her mind, her dad got up and walked back to his room.

As her dad entered the threshold, she spoke up, “Keep the door open.”

Her dad paused for a moment, then moved the door so it was halfway open. He gave her a thumbs up and continued out the door. Leaving her feeling more comfortable, however, the nightmares never stopped.

They slowly escalated invoking fear, anxiety, or sadness. She eventually was able to control her voice and struggles to not wake her dad up at night, but the nightmares would change and morph into something new almost every night. When she dreamt about something grabbing her in her sleep, she would ask her dad to check under the bed. When she dreamt eyes watching her from her closet, she would tell her dad to always keep the closet closed. When she dreamt she saw shadows moving in the darkness, she told her dad to buy multiple nightlights and glow-in-the-dark stars. But they never stopped.

It came to a point where she would resist sleep. Her dad once caught her in the living room watching TV at midnight.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a yawn. “I’m not tired.”

“You need to sleep, buddy,” her father walked over, turned off the TV, and picked up the exhausted child.

Without protest, she let him settle her into her bed, but not without her checklist. He looked to the outlet to make sure the corner of the room was illuminated, walked to the closet to make sure it was closed, and knelt down to check under her bed. The little girl nodded in approval as she closed her eyes and drifted off into another nightmare.

The next week, her dad once again caught her in the living room past midnight. Her eyes were straining to stay open, but she was determined to stay awake.

“Why are you awake?” he asked.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she said.

“Why not?” his eyebrows scrunched up as he sat next to her in front of the TV screen.

“I don’t like to sleep because the nightmares scare me.”

His eyes widened slightly, “You’re stilling having nightmares?”

She nodded slowly.

“What happens in the nightmares?” he asked.

She shrugged, “Monsters.”

Her dad said nothing, as the realization hit him when he thought about his daughter’s nighttime checklist.

“Well, you know what to do when you’re scared though right?”

The girl quickly looked at him with wide eyes, “What do I do?”

“Easy. You punch them.”

The girl huffed and looked back at the TV screen.

“I’m serious,” her dad insisted. “You tell them ‘I’m not afraid’ and then give them a good punch in the nose.”

“But what if they don’t have a nose?” she retorted.

“Then you just punch.” Her dad gave her a serious look.

“Okay, but what if that still doesn’t work?”

“Then you blink.”

“I-what?” she said.

“You blink. Like this.” Her dad shut his eyes so tightly, wrinkles formed at the sides of his eyes. Then after a second, he opened them again widely.

“What’s that supposed to do?” she scoffed.

“It’ll wake you up. If you really feel scared, you can wake up quickly and realize that it’s just a dream. It can’t hurt you.”

She hesitated for a moment, but sighed, “Okay.”

With that, her father shut off the TV and lead her to her room. She laid in bed and willingly drifted into sleep, entering whatever nightmare was waiting for her.

She was running away from some unknown creature. Again. She never knew how long she ran but knew she had to keep going lest she wanted the monster to catch her. She could always feel the monster’s breath as if it was right behind her. But even though the girl has never actually seen the creature chasing her, she was going to change that. Now. For the first time since the nightmares began, she stopped running. Her tiny hand balled into a fist, and slowly, with her eyes closed, she turned. Her small frame trembled in fear of what stood before her, but with a shaky arm, she swung her fist in front of her, wincing with the expectation of it to make an impact. But it never came. She felt…nothing. Timidly she opened her eyes to find the spot empty. She spun around looking for the creature but was left with nothing. Despite no sign of a threat, she continued to tremble.

“Just blink,” she told herself.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes tightly before opening them again. She still found herself alone in the darkness, so she tried again. She shut her eyes tight once more before opening again, and as she did, she found herself staring at the glowing stars that littered her ceiling. And then, for the first time in a long time, she smiled.

…

“Alright, but be ready for nightmares.” her friend teased.

“Nightmares?” the girl scoffed. “Bring it.”

We had a tradition, in our shabby college apartment. There a single blank wall inside, stretching from one bedroom door to the next – maybe eight feet in diameter – with an ugly metal utility box to the side. We liked to hide this wall in creative ways: with a tapestry, then another, then a holiday ensemble, complete with cut-outs or wrapping paper or whatever matched the occasion.

The latest occasion was St. Patrick’s Day, but it was stretching toward mid-April. Easter was approaching. Maybe we would have time to decorate for it. Maybe not. Finals were also approaching, and we were all beginning to wear thin with the stress. Still, the wall had rapidly become an annoyance to walk by. It stood almost mocking – like a reminder of the past I was trying to forget. I wanted to take it down.

I started with the sparkly green clovers, artfully tilted together at the center of the wall. They were made of construction paper, and the first one ripped when I tried to peel it off. I carefully undid the back taping, trying not to tear the decoration further. Maybe I could re-use them next year. The decorations had cost a pretty penny, more than I could afford at the time. I didn’t regret the purchase, though.

I remember putting the whole thing up a few hours before our party was to start, with my roommate crying in her room about her latest worst-thing-in-the-world-of-the-week. She was like that. It was always one thing or the next, this or that. Right now, it was a speeding ticket. I could never understand the logic – how someone could get fed up about something so minor as a speeding ticket. I wish I had the luxury of worrying about details like did.

I went back to work, slowly taking the clovers down until only the center strip of the wall faced me. It was bruised and ugly in spots, and I remembered why we wanted to cover it up. It wasn’t so bad from far away, but close-up I could see all the dirt and stains.

My eyes trailed the pattern forehead level dents, created that one time my friend Nick drunkenly attempted to handstand against the wall. As the dents indicate, it hadn’t gone so well. I remember laughing though – genuinely laughing – unlike the forced smiles exchanged these days. No. In that moment, we were still best friends. In that moment, we were happy.

Next, it was time to rip down streamers – alternating shades of light and dark green. The streamers wouldn’t be worth storing, so I threw them away.

I remember Nick playing with them at a pre-game a few weeks earlier. Twisting them up as tight as he could without breaking the strands, then watching them come apart. I had been leaning against the wall, casually observing his work, when he turned to me.

“Promise me we’ll stay best friends forever,” he had said, his eyes suddenly wide and serious, without the casual laughter they had held before. He got like this when exceptionally drunk – all mushy and sentimental – and the best thing to do was humor him.

“Nothing could tear us apart," I remember replying. I remember meaning it too.

All in all, the wall took around two hours to put up and around twenty seconds to strip down. Back to where we started, just me and the ugly white. Pink splotches decorated the barren mess too, along with the handstand dents and dirt and stains from God-knows where. The whole thing was imperfect and gross; I already wanted it gone. We didn’t even own the apartment, and would probably have to pay for damaged paint or whatever.

Something about the wall bothered me though, in a dark, disturbing way. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but the disgust ran deeper than the unsightly appearance or reminder of impending paint fees. The wall looked mocking almost, laughing like it knew its stains had ruined the appearance. Like it knew just how much it bothered me.

---

I ordered a new tapestry a day later, a fading pattern to different shades of blue. We hadn’t hung blue on the wall before, and the thought made me happy. Blue was comforting. Blue was new. Blue would be here in approximately ten to fifteen business days. All I could do was wait.

Meanwhile, the wall was becoming worse. I began to avoid it, when I could. I resided on campus most of the day, or spent my time in my bedroom, with it out of sight. The hard part was the in-between: those thirteen steps from my bedroom to the apartment door. I could handle those thirteen steps, at the beginning. Each day I would wake up and prepare myself to confront the wall. It became a battle.

As the days went on, facing the white got harder and harder. Sometimes I would lose to its hateful gaze. I cowered in my room instead – terrified – while trying to think of creative excuses to email my professors.

Sometimes the problem was getting back in. I would sit in our apartment hallways for hours on end, trying to build up courage. Occasionally I’d sleep in my car.

Throughout the wait, I tried to maintain normalcy. At least, as much as I could. Because I was not crazy. I know I sounded crazy, but I was not crazy. Okay? I needed new paint, not therapy. I just needed the wall gone. At the sixteenth day since ordering that new tapestry, I called the shipping company.

I remember hearing the words backordered and I remember hearing screaming. It was deafening; wretched and terrible, filled with vulgar words –

“FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE Of FUCKING SHIT, YOU DON’T CONTROL ME, YOU –“

“Ma’am? MA’AM. Is everything okay!?”

It was only when the police rushed in that I realized: I was the one screaming.

I think the incident scared my roommates, because they began treating me like I was breakable, like they were afraid to set me off. Whispers and hushed conversations, abruptly halting when I entered the room. Hesitancy before asking me questions. Words thrown around, like “trauma” and “PTSD” and “neurotic.” Things like that. They thought I didn’t notice.

They spread the word to our friends, though, because breakdowns make for juicy gossip. More than ever, I felt alone. Nick kept his distance, too. A part of me began to hate him for that – for not defending me after everything. So much for forever. Yet, through it all, I kept my promise to him.

My mom called earlier today, a week and a half later. I had not left my room for approximately three days. But I hadn’t wanted to worry her. So, when she asked how I was doing, I told her I was great. I didn’t tell her that I was failing three classes, because then she’d worry about my scholarship. I didn’t tell her that I felt empty, that the wall was killing me a little bit more every day. I didn’t tell her about that night or about Nick and how we were slowly falling apart. Maybe I should have. Maybe things could have changed.

Instead, I listen now from my bedroom as my roommates entertain friends in the living room. They have the stereo on – some throwback songs from when we were kids. I can’t tell how many people are here, but I can hear the excited chattering, the laughter. Their happiness seeps through the walls. My chest tightens.

I’m lying on my bed, too afraid to make a sound. God, what if they don’t know I’m here? What if they do? I can’t leave my room because of the wall, and even without it my sudden presence would make the situation too awkward.

I can feel my heartbeat rising. I pick out Nick’s voice from the rest. It hurts. Here all my once friends are, going about life like I never mattered in it. Maybe that’s harsh. Maybe it was my fault –

(Promise me you won’t go to the police. It was a mistake. If you care about me at all you’ll keep this to yourself. Please)

– maybe I should have been selfish. Maybe I should have never agreed to keep my mouth shut. Oh No. Maybe I never should have told Nick I’d keep my mouth shut.

I can feel my pulse through my throat. My hands are shaking and I feel trapped – I feel trapped and the world is closing in – my chest feels light and my head feels heavy and I can hear them joking outside my door, joking and having fun and it’s all too much and I can see him, I can feel the too long glance and that brush of cracked fingertips and I can see myself brushing it off like nothing at all –

Somehow I end up on my hands and knees. The world is silent except for my breath and the beating music of the pregame on the other side of my door. Don’t Stop Believing is on. I can hear the room singing it.

Don’t Stop, Believing, they chime. Hold on to that feelin’ –

It’s the end of the song, a crescendo to the final notes. Everyone is off pitch. I fall to my side, rolling to face the ceiling.

Streetlights, I hear. peopleeeeeee – they hold out the word, changing keys. It’s the last line, and then the room goes silent. I hear them shuffling around, gathering their things before heading to the bars. I continue to stare at the ceiling.

Ceilings are nice, I decide. They don’t get messed up and spilled on by people. They stay blank – the perfect white. Untouched by our human messes. Walls let us ruin them.

I feel calm, after they leave. Detached, almost. There’s a heaviness in my bones, like the apartment itself has faded into nonexistence. Like it all was just a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. It was all so fucking real.

Mechanically, I feel myself standing, and I feel my blood pounding in my fingers. There’s ball in my chest, slowly churning hotter and hotter.

I walk over to the kitchen cupboard, and pull out a toolbox. My mom insisted we keep one, though we never used it. There’s a hammer inside, and I feel the weight of it in my hands.

I think of Nick. I think of our promises.

(Promise me you won’t go to the police.)

He’d been the one to find me. It was his house, after all.

(Promise we’ll be best friends forever)

Best friends. That’s what he introduced me as – his best friend. I remember the elation of hearing him say it. I had never had a best friend. But that’s what he told his dad we were. Best friends. I had a best friend.

I turn and face the wall. It truly was hideous. I look. I feel the hammer. The wall cracks like lightning, before I realize what I’ve done. The hammer lies on the floor.

It feels good, I realize, and then suddenly I’m attacking the wall, and metal is hard and adrenaline is flooding in and I can’t stop, I can’t stop I cantfuckingforget because I see them in the wall – I see Nick’s dad and I see him lock the door and it’s all so wrong and I see Nick and his face when he realizes what his dad did and I see those terrified eyes – itwasamistake it was a mistake please don’t tell the police it was a mistake –

(Take it, that's right, just like that, baby)

(Stoppleasestop PLEASEFUCKING STOP)

(SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH AND TAKE IT YOU GOD DAMN SLUT) –

And somewhere along the lines I’ve dropped the hammer because it isn’t enough and I need to feel this - I need him to feel this.

The wall is turning red on the edges of where I hammer it so I grasp onto a cracked part and rip because this fucker is coming down and there’s so much red – God, there’s so much red but I need to keep going I can’t stop going –

And the world begins to blur. I steady myself, and I blink. The apartment is silent again. The wall is a scarring of browns and cracked white, a midsize hole tinged with the scarlet. I can feel myself fading.

Through the hole, I see my bedroom. On my desk is a mirror, and I catch sight of my reflection. I see my features, the light hair, dark eyes. The too big nose. Somehow, these parts don’t add up to me. To who I am. I don’t recognize this reflection. I can feel something wet drip on the edge of my nails.

Maybe this is who I was once. Before Nick. Before the wall. But this girl is dead.

I feel a pull, dragging at my conscious. I close my eyes, and let it take over.