Twisted Desire by M. Mabie

Author:M. Mabie [Mabie, M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: M. Mabie
Published: 2018-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

PAST

NORA—Friday, June 27, 2008

I bet he was thinking about how I fuck people on my tiny bed.

He didn’t ask, thankfully, so I didn’t mention that I typically didn’t entertain in my home, and on the few occasions when I did, it was always in my spare room. Sometimes I’d sleep with them, but most of the time I’d find my way back to my bed.

It wasn’t the sleeping with someone I didn’t like. It was the sleeping in a great big bed by myself that felt sad. Even though I didn’t have anything to feel sad about; my life was mostly how I’d wanted it.

I was where I wanted to be in terms of my career. I didn’t want for anything. When I wanted to enjoy some company, I knew how to find it.

It was all I needed.

That’s why it was so hard to have good friendships, personal ones, with people who didn’t understand the preferences I had.

Sure, I had many acquaintances, but none who’d ever guess what I liked in the bedroom. Socially, in my smallish network, almost everyone I associated with knew I was into plural activities because they were, too.

I never had to deal with any of those questions, and once again, I regretted having told him that night at the party. Honestly, seeing how intense and alpha male he appeared, I thought it would put him off.

And in some ways I think it did, but he was persistent. I would give him that.

It hadn’t taken long to get the boxes organized, and I appreciated the help seeing how much we’d accomplished. Most of the large furniture in the living room belonged there. Only some of the new bedroom pieces and shelves needed to be assembled.

With my bed like it was, I’d wait until the next day to tackle it, and decided I’d sleep on the couch for another night.

I’d been there for almost a week already. What was one more night?

Besides, it’s a comfy couch. I’d just bought it over the weekend, having decided to donate my old one when I was told it wouldn’t fit in the moving truck, and the store had been nice enough to deliver it Monday.

Other than that piece of furniture, it had been me and my suitcases.

There hadn’t been any reason to buy many groceries yet. I had nothing to cook with since all of my dishes and pans were packed in the move.

In hindsight, I should have overnighted a few boxes, but managed. I’d remember that for the next move.

My fucking toe still throbbed, and when I looked down to check it, I noticed it was swelling, and the toe beside it was turning purple too.

If I wanted to be any use the next day, I’d need to take it easy for the rest of the night. At least I had a bottle of wine, which should have been nice and cold by then. But where the fuck were my glasses?

“How’s the toe?” he asked, giving up on the conversation about the bed when I didn’t bother responding any more than I had.

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