Page 6 of Caution Tape

If it wasn’t so funny, I’d almost be touched.

She started kissing me in the car. She continued to do so on the steps up to the apartment and through the door, her grip on my waist firm, her mouth hungry and forceful on mine.

We trip over a large black and white cat as we move further into the house. She breaks the kiss to cry out, “Sylvester! Move!” before looping her arms around my neck and dragging me back to her bedroom.

My hands are light on her waist as we continue kissing at the foot of her bed, her tongue deep in my mouth. The boredom is back, and I feel a flash of irritation toward Natalie, like her normalcy and humanness has somehow ruined the afterglow of killing the deer.

She breaks the kiss again, dropping down flat from the tips of her toes and tilting her chin up at me.

“Are you okay, Nolan? You don’t seem that into it.”

I look down at her and feel my irritation growing to resemble real anger. I’m not being normal enough. I’m not an eager, drooling boy. I’m not being human.

Grabbing hold of her wrist, I drop my facial expression, similar to my visage when I night drive. I stop holding up the jovial Nolan mask and let the coldness remove the life from my face.

She blinks twice and her mouth drops open slightly. For a brief, flickering moment, I see fear, and I feel relief.

I’m finally seen.

I’m finally revealed.

Then I realize she’s not afraid. Not really.

She’s turned on.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her. My voice has dropped an octave and become smoother. I’d read that men with higher voices were seen as deferent and more easily dismissed, allowing me to glide through most social situations without ever being the focus.

In this moment though, I am the focus. There is a certain sense of power in having Natalie look at me that way.

She tears off her jacket and it drops to the floor. Slipping the straps off of her shoulders she then cocks an eyebrow at me.

It occurs to me that she thinks I’m playing a part. A character. She’s expecting me to drop the act and dissolve into her arms.

My hand snaps out and closes around her throat, gripping firmly. I pull her in closely, staring into her eyes. Part of me is willing her to see me—truly see me—in all the darkness.

Instead, she gasps, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.

With one hand still on her throat, I use the other to begin stroking her over her panties. Natalie gasps again, her legs quivering.

“Is this what you want? You want to be treated this way?”

She nods slightly, then breathes the word, “Yes.”

I push her onto the bed, her hair splaying out onto the covers, her legs flinging into the air and yelping as she falls back.

Moving over her, I cover her mouth with my palm and use the other hand to rip her underwear off in one smooth motion.

“Shut up,” I hiss in her ear. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

I straighten up and begin taking off my clothes. Natalie stares up at me but doesn’t say anything or move. She continues to watch me until I’ve taken off my boxers, only then moving to use her legs to hook around my waist and draw me close to her.

“You know, it’s interesting,” she murmurs, lying on her back, her hands reaching down to stroke my cock. “People have these different personalities during sex. They change into different people.” Her hands begin to work faster. “You’re different than I expected.”

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, sliding into her roughly. Natalie cries out in astonishment as I pound into her violently. Groaning at the sudden sensation of warmth and wetness, I begin to lose myself. She moans, and my anger flares again. I grab a fistful of her hair as I begin slamming into her harder, drilling her backside into the mattress.

“What did I tell you about speaking?”

Crying out in delight, she grabs onto my arm, her mouth peppering kisses along my neck, chin and lips.

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