is going to hurt, the blood is going to come rushing
back. Are you ready?” he explained. I nodded yes, and he unclipped them both at
once. It stung. I winced. Cash pushed my hair out of my eyes. My hands were
still shaking as I started to peel wax off of my chest. He took both my hands
in his and pressed them to his lips.
“Are
you okay?” he asked. I don’t know if I like how often I have to be asked this.
“Yeah,
I just… I just need a minute,” I replied. I felt like I was in a fugue. My
thoughts were muddy and incoherent. I was rattled to my core. I felt like I’d
been on a weeklong bender and the coke finally ran out.
“What
can I do?” he asked, with a furrowed brow. This is probably precisely why he
said he didn’t want to deal with inexperience. I felt like crying. I’m not sure
why. I don’t know why I was so shaken. In the moment, I was lost in the
experience, and I enjoyed myself, thoroughly. I came with a fury. Now that it
was over, I feel like someone pulled a hood off my head and left me standing in
blinding daylight.
“I
just feel really weird. I think I need to go home. I’m sorry,” I said, blankly,
not moving.
“You’re
coming down out of subspace. Everybody comes down differently, needs different
things. If you need some time alone, it won’t hurt my feelings. Just know I’m
here for whatever you need,” he reassured me. I don’t know what I need. I
reached down and grabbed the comforter, pulling it over me.
“Can
I just lie here for a little bit?” I requested.
“Definitely,
do you need me to give you some space?” he asked.
“No,
lie with me,” I replied. He pulled down the comforter and scooted in next to
me. I laid my head on his arm and nuzzled into his chest. We laid like that, in
silence, until I drifted to sleep. Cash never stopped stroking my hair.
Chapter Twelve
I woke up before Cash and managed to
slide out of bed without disturbing him. I wasn’t feeling up to squeezing back
into last night’s dress, so I quietly opened dresser drawers searching for
clothes to steal. I found a t-shirt and pajama pants. I was pretty sure my
panties were in the bed with him somewhere, so I pulled his clothes over my
bare skin. I’d come back and get my clothes later. I grabbed my clutch from
where I left it on the counter the night before, and crept barefoot back to my
apartment. At least my walk of shame was a short one. I have to call off work
again. I’m going to get my ass chewed, but there is no way I can get my shit
together this morning. I shoot my department head an email, letting her know I
have no voice so I can’t call, and that I’m taking the day off. That wasn’t
exactly a lie. I’d made myself pretty hoarse last night.
I
went directly to the bathroom and started the shower. As the mirror fogged with
steam, I examined my body. This time, there were marks. Red lines were scattered
across my torso and back. My face looked like some kind of sad, slutty clown
from where Cash had intentionally smeared my make up. I scrubbed off as much as
I could at the sink and stepped into the scalding shower. Residual wax flaked
away and collected in the drain. I stepped out of the shower and pulled Cash’s
clothes back on. They stuck to my wet skin. I’m dizzy. I need to eat, hydrate. I
drag myself to the kitchen.
My
fridge is bare, nothing but 40 different condiments and rancid leftovers. Damn.
Adulting is hard. I can’t even remember the last time I went to the grocery
store. I pull my hair in a bun and shove on some moccasins. I head out the door
in Cash’s oversize t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants. I feel apprehension
creep up as I wait for the elevator to arrive. When I step in, the walls start
to spin around me. I try to turn and step back out, but I’m moving in slow
motion and the doors shut before I can reach them. I can’t breathe. I sink to
the floor in the corner, and my vision starts to go black. It’s been weeks
since I’ve had a panic
back. Are you ready?” he explained. I nodded yes, and he unclipped them both at
once. It stung. I winced. Cash pushed my hair out of my eyes. My hands were
still shaking as I started to peel wax off of my chest. He took both my hands
in his and pressed them to his lips.
“Are
you okay?” he asked. I don’t know if I like how often I have to be asked this.
“Yeah,
I just… I just need a minute,” I replied. I felt like I was in a fugue. My
thoughts were muddy and incoherent. I was rattled to my core. I felt like I’d
been on a weeklong bender and the coke finally ran out.
“What
can I do?” he asked, with a furrowed brow. This is probably precisely why he
said he didn’t want to deal with inexperience. I felt like crying. I’m not sure
why. I don’t know why I was so shaken. In the moment, I was lost in the
experience, and I enjoyed myself, thoroughly. I came with a fury. Now that it
was over, I feel like someone pulled a hood off my head and left me standing in
blinding daylight.
“I
just feel really weird. I think I need to go home. I’m sorry,” I said, blankly,
not moving.
“You’re
coming down out of subspace. Everybody comes down differently, needs different
things. If you need some time alone, it won’t hurt my feelings. Just know I’m
here for whatever you need,” he reassured me. I don’t know what I need. I
reached down and grabbed the comforter, pulling it over me.
“Can
I just lie here for a little bit?” I requested.
“Definitely,
do you need me to give you some space?” he asked.
“No,
lie with me,” I replied. He pulled down the comforter and scooted in next to
me. I laid my head on his arm and nuzzled into his chest. We laid like that, in
silence, until I drifted to sleep. Cash never stopped stroking my hair.
Chapter Twelve
I woke up before Cash and managed to
slide out of bed without disturbing him. I wasn’t feeling up to squeezing back
into last night’s dress, so I quietly opened dresser drawers searching for
clothes to steal. I found a t-shirt and pajama pants. I was pretty sure my
panties were in the bed with him somewhere, so I pulled his clothes over my
bare skin. I’d come back and get my clothes later. I grabbed my clutch from
where I left it on the counter the night before, and crept barefoot back to my
apartment. At least my walk of shame was a short one. I have to call off work
again. I’m going to get my ass chewed, but there is no way I can get my shit
together this morning. I shoot my department head an email, letting her know I
have no voice so I can’t call, and that I’m taking the day off. That wasn’t
exactly a lie. I’d made myself pretty hoarse last night.
I
went directly to the bathroom and started the shower. As the mirror fogged with
steam, I examined my body. This time, there were marks. Red lines were scattered
across my torso and back. My face looked like some kind of sad, slutty clown
from where Cash had intentionally smeared my make up. I scrubbed off as much as
I could at the sink and stepped into the scalding shower. Residual wax flaked
away and collected in the drain. I stepped out of the shower and pulled Cash’s
clothes back on. They stuck to my wet skin. I’m dizzy. I need to eat, hydrate. I
drag myself to the kitchen.
My
fridge is bare, nothing but 40 different condiments and rancid leftovers. Damn.
Adulting is hard. I can’t even remember the last time I went to the grocery
store. I pull my hair in a bun and shove on some moccasins. I head out the door
in Cash’s oversize t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants. I feel apprehension
creep up as I wait for the elevator to arrive. When I step in, the walls start
to spin around me. I try to turn and step back out, but I’m moving in slow
motion and the doors shut before I can reach them. I can’t breathe. I sink to
the floor in the corner, and my vision starts to go black. It’s been weeks
since I’ve had a panic
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