Page 94 of Married with Mayhem

The voice belongs to a hateful man. He berates me for eating too much junk food. He complains that I’ll ruin my figure. He laughs when I try to please him in bed. He turns on a harsh spotlight and orders me to face the mirror so I can’t hide from all the things that are wrong with me. He pressures me to stay with him forever because I’ll never be more capable or independent than a child.

“Shut up,” I whisper and push the unwanted voice back down into the recesses of my mind, buried beneath layers of good memories. I’m desperate for it to stay buried forever. And I know that it won’t.

The damage inflicted by Jeffrey isn’t nearly as raw and painful as it used to be. But the scars remain. Such is the natureof scars. They diminish over time but they don’t disappear, not completely, not even invisible ones.

Why couldn’t things have been different? Why couldn’t I have been with Monte first?

Doesn’t matter. I’m with him now. I’ll be with him tonight. Monte makes me feel beautiful and special.

I turn my attention back to my suitcase. If only I could have predicted that sexy lingerie would come in handy on this trip. Alas, the sexiest thing I can find is a ribbed black tank top that shows off my boobs and a pair of hot pink vintage-style running shorts. Even though I never run anywhere intentionally, the shorts are a trim, sexy cut that makes my hips and ass look damn good.

Just as I’m about to change, I start wondering if I ought to take a shower first. I took a shower this morning and my day was far from physically strenuous but maybe I should take another one. On the other hand, it will eat up a lot of time if I dry my hair.

What do other people do when they know they are about to (possibly) have sex? Or something like sex?

Well, they probably don’t suffer through some intensely neurotic inner battle while brushing their teeth.

In the end, I compromise with a quick two-minute shower but keep my hair tied up and dry.

Monte waits in bed. He’s on his phone again but he sets it down immediately.

For once, I’m not too nervous to directly confront the heat in a man’s eyes. I’m delighted when his gaze sweeps up and down over my body and his expression shifts to unmistakable lust. He’s practically drooling and I’m almost proud of my body as I remove the clip from my thick hair and shake it loose.

Monte kneels and reaches for me. “You’re so gorgeous.”

Here it comes, the sudden tickle of doubt, an unwelcome intrusion. The room now feels too bright even though the only light is from a lamp on the nightstand.

I lunge for the lamp, intending to switch it off. Instead, I nearly knock it off the table. Because of course I did.

Monte’s superior reflexes save the lamp. He gently sets it straight and then pulls on the switch cord. The room plunges into darkness. I feel stupid for exhaling with relief.

“Let’s play a game,” Monte says in the darkness.

A curious request coming from him. “Like a video game?”

“No.”

“You don’t even like games.”

“I’ll like this one.”

“What is it called?”

“Silent Night.”

I don’t know what to make of that. Could be horror-themed or Santa-themed. Either one would be a strange choice right now.

Monte’s arm circles my waist and I allow him to pull me into bed.

“Don’t you want to know the rules?” he says and gently lays me on my back.

My heart pounds, but in a good way. “What are the rules?”

He moves my knees slightly apart and runs his hands up my thighs. “Only one rule that matters. You can’t make a sound no matter what my tongue does to your pussy.”

Now I can’t breathe. I’ve forgotten how. “Oh.” The single syllable is a high squeak.

“Think you can handle that?” he says and his hands venture higher, massaging the soft flesh of my inner thighs. “This way we won’t disturb the neighbors like we did last night.”

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