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Marian IV
She spoke before she could stop herself. “Would you think any less of me if I got into trouble?” She wondered more if she would think any less of herself. If that was even possible. But the man smiled. A small, soft smile.
“If I did, how would I have expected you to do the same?” His stomach flexed as it flattened to hers. The gentle throw of his groin sheathed inside of her was all the comfort she could ever ask for. Yet she begged the man a bit more.
“It was never your fault,” If only the police had agreed.
“And it wouldn’t be your fault,” He drew away. Sucked in a breath as she tensed on his joystick. Felt his chest tighten with her gasp of quiet encouragement. Shy. Uninhibited.
“You don’t know what I did,”
“I know you would have done it for me.” Staring
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Blue had imagined her death time and time again. She’d hoped to be laying in a hospital bed, a metal dish under her arse to catch her shit and a pad of paper to write down her thoughts sat in her lap. Her grandchildren would sit around her and try their utmost not to laugh when she farted especially loudly. Her children would scold them when they did; “Gran’s old,” They would hiss. “Is this how you want to remember your last moments with her?” But she’d be staring blankly at the roof. Vincent would be twenty years dead by then. Her only thoughts would be of hoping they’d meet in whatever darkness was awaiting her. That after the turmoil that had been her young adult life, death was sleep after a very long, very hard day.The scenario that she’d be ushered into her sperm-donors house by her fiancé with a gun in her back hadn’t existed in even her wildest fantasies. Fantasy was perhaps an
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Staring at her father and her stepmother in bewilderment, she somehow had no urge to struggle. Not after their last altercation. Or the one that left her with a scarred cheek. Instead, she stumbled alongside him, feet feeling awfully heavy. And did her utmost not to land splat on her face lest he lose his patience and do away with her in the hallway. The fact that five million dollars had done little more than buy her plane ticket to the Maldives was completely out of her comprehension.Try as she might, no part of Blue was really to accept that the whole ordeal wasn’t a fever dream. And again, she wondered if she’d wake up from it all—though not in bed with Richard. Instead, she’d awake on the morning of her birthday party. Richard and Vincent had both been figments of her imagination. Manifestations of her fear of money and her desire to live quietly. Two opposites; one good and one evil. Considering one had shot her father in
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“And you expect me to just trust you because...?” obscured by the hair that fell across Blue’s eyes with the tilt of her head, Marian looked quite young for a moment. If only a moment.“What do I have to gain from lying, Blue? My husband despises me, I’m a prisoner in my own home-”“Fine!” The moment Blue snapped, she felt rather guilty rather instantly. Slouched in her seat as the woman sent her a pointed stare. Curled her toes in her shoes. Out of shame? She wasn’t sure. “You can’t blame me for being cautious…”“No, I can’t.” Fiddling with her napkin, Marian cast her eyes to the table—feeling, too, something like shame. “But what other options do you have right now? Other than the obvious,”“Marrying Richard?”“Exactly.”&nbs
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“For god’s sake, I’m pregnant with your child. Would you just listen to me?” Not caring much at all for the fact he’d swatted her away like a fly, she took the man by the face as she had before. Pressed herself up against him. Hoped he wouldn’t shove her away again and seethe something about how she’d betrayed him. “I love you; I wouldn’t do anything if I thought it would hurt you.”“You know Richard. Do you really think he’s innocent?”“No, of course I don’t think he’s innocent—I think that he slapped around his girlfriend, and he needs some help, but I also think that the only way to stop all of this isn’t by sending Richard to prison because nothing will stop them from blocking people’s payments after someone else has taken the blame.” He softened. Thought did struggle from his wife sl
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She smiled a small smile. Rubbed her dampened palms across her jeans. “Fuck me, then.” She felt strange demanding it. A night in prison had her well-acquainted with her desire, it would seem. So much so that she was now unafraid of being rather crass about it. Fearless of whether she seemed juvenile or improper.“Not yet,” He met her with a gentle, brief kiss. Reached for her jeans again. Eased her onto the countertop. “I’ve been planning this for a while, you see,” Her heart jumped as he tugged her trousers to her ankles far too easily for her liking.“You have?”“I have.” He stood over her. Slid a hand inside of her underwear. Pressed his mouth against hers. Why did she feel like a patient on an operating table? She thought silently. Why did she like it?“What are you going to do?”She stared
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