Page 18 of Felonies are Forever

The bed is empty now and the clock reads 7:30 AM. Last night, I’d set the alarm on my phone for eight o’clock when Thorne was in the kitchen getting me some water. I still have to go to work today and something told me I would not wake up on my own this morning. But here I am nonetheless, wide awake and feeling like my world has been set on its head.

“Come on, CeeCee, up and at ‘em.” I try to invigorate myself with some positive energy, but my mind just wanders to Thorne and the things he did to me.

I’m taking you now, in a way I’ve never done before. You’re going to give me that, CeeCee. It’s mine. The throaty words he whispered as he set himself inside of me, flesh to flesh, made me cum and I nearly do the same again just at the memory. He was so intense. So real.

I kick my legs and slap my hands over my eyes, trying to get a grip on reality.

The thought that I have to wear the same clothes to work today settles in. It’s Saturday, and I’m doing a favor for one of the other dentist’s translating on a weekend. But, when I can, I help out. If it wasn’t for the patient needing me there, I’d call off. I’m dragging and just as I wince and rise out of the bed, I look over to see a note on the nightstand.

“Good morning, beautiful. As I told you last night, I have an early meeting that couldn’t be canceled—otherwise I’d be there still, warm and tucked in with you. You said you had to work today, so I washed your clothes and called in a favor with a friend of mine at a boutique not far from here. In the guest room closet (I didn’t want to wake you so I had them put in the other room) you will find a selection of clothes and everything you may need. The kitchen is stocked, coffee is made, of course there are fresh donuts…Call or text me when you wake up. There is also a number for a driver, who is waiting for you in the parking garage to take you wherever you’d like to go. Just please let me knowwhen and if you decide to leave. I wouldn’t blame you if you ditched work today. I’d be surprised if you could walk. I can’t wait to see where this takes us, CeeCee.

Yours,

-T”

After a quick shower, I walk to the guest bedroom on the other side of the loft, peruse the closet and I’m shocked at what I see. There’s not simply a few outfits in here, it’s like an entire boutique. There are shoes and handbags as well. And things that are clearly not for work. Piles of lingerie and a few dresses tell me there are more plans for me than maybe I even realized.

As I work my butt into a pair of tight black jeans and reach over to run my fingers across the lace of a stunning sapphire blue bra and panty set, there is a tiny darkness that begins to creep into my billowy fantasy world. It’s a leftover, a past wound that’s just starting to itch again, and I force it away. I won’t let this be ruined.

I finish getting dressed and make my way to the kitchen. It really is a stunning loft. It could be a feature in Architectural Digest. The walls are covered in canvases of all sizes, some enormous and others the size of a slice of bread, all blasting the open space with wild color and images of people. The subjects are surprisingly ordinary, just people doing normal things, walking, talking, sitting and musing. But they’re painted with such stunning emotion that nothing about them is average.

I tell myself that nothing this beautiful could be bad, but the nagging doubt is now starting to fully engulf me. It’s like a sex hangover. The endorphins are gone and the bright light of day is giving me a fearsome headache.

On the center island of the kitchen there is a platter of donuts that would feed a small village, and the smell of rich coffee makes my mouth water. Not much sleep was had last night and that is only adding to the dragging emotions that are welling upinside me. I wish I could snap out of it, but it seems that once you start following your gut, it has a way of making itself known.

I fill my mug with a shaking hand, take a sip and lean against the counter, staring out of the windows, and tears start to fill my eyes. There’s a tightness in my gut, spreading out through my body, and before I know it I’m sobbing. Imagining all the ways this could go wrong. How stupid I’ve been. Coming here, letting this tattooed stranger take me in every way he pleased. His cum dripping out of me in streams.

Am I a child? Do I not think at all?

Oh, but then there’s the other part. The feelings I have for him already. The odd sense of destiny. I’m stuck between the tears and the dreams as I set my forehead down on the cool granite, and the tears continue to roll down my cheeks even as the smile spreads across my lips. I slide my purse to rest on the counter while I figure out how to tame the warring factions inside my head.

After a few minutes, the hard countertop loses its appeal as a pillow and I lift my head. A donut is what I need. A donut to help me think, help me decide whether I’m the world’s biggest idiot or its luckiest inhabitant.

And it helps, it really does.

Then, after the first one is all gone, it’s clear that a second can only increase my chances of a good mood so I pinch a lemon-frosted raspberry twist and take a bite. It’s not just a bite; it’s more like love-eating. Similar to love-making, but with a donut. Not just any donut, these Twisted Yellow Belly donuts.

I lean my elbows on the counter and close my eyes, chewing slowly and letting the sweet flavor send rockets of pleasure over my tongue and into the center of my brain that only this kind of sweetness can touch.

A sip of coffee. Another bite. More coffee.

There’s a significant amount of sighing going on as well.

Sounds a lot like some of the noises I was making a few hours ago.

This donut is not as good as the things Thorne and I did last night, but it’s a damn close second.

Okay, he’s not a bad guy. I can accept that. And that means everything is going to be all right. For the first time in my life, things are going my way.

I’m lost in my reverie when a harsh knock on the door snaps me out of it. I look back and forth through the enormous empty space, not quite sure what it is I’m looking for. I’m all alone in here, after all. But it’s a natural reaction for some inexplicable reason.

Another three knocks and I stand straight up. Maybe it’s a delivery. My silly romantic girl voice whispers there may be a swoony surprise behind that door, and that becomes all I can think of. My mind fills with images of white roses, a bouquet so big it takes two delivery men to carry it inside.

I step nonchalantly toward the door as though someone was watching, measuring my steps, trying to be coy even with no one here to notice.

“Coming!” I call as I tug down the pink sweater I have on and smooth my hands over my breasts.

My hand on the doorknob, I toss my hair back and put on an innocent, unsuspecting expression.

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