In Case of Emergency

Image

in-case-of-emergency

 

Dahlia stood in the darkness thinking, worrying her hands, debating her options, and wishing she was still young. Decisions came so easily then but now, she paused laying her forehead against her arm at the window and then finished her thought, now I’m twenty nine. She closed her eyes against stinging tears and swallowed hard.

She couldn’t imagine her life without dance and couldn’t imagine losing Rand either, but this was a choice she had to make. It seemed the only choice and she would have to make it again and again. Dahlia sighed shaking her head when Melinda bounded into the room with hallway light streaming in around her.

“Uh oh,” Melinda said, hitting the light switch.

Again Dahlia closed her eyes asking, “Uh oh. What?”

Melinda sat down at the table digging into her clutch, “Dahlia, you only strike that pose when you’re really upset. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Dahlia answered.

“Sure. I’m buying that,” Melinda quipped, “You’re standing here in the pitch dark leaning into the window like you want to jump. Sure it’s nothing.”

Dahlia pulled herself upright and went to sit across from her, “I’m old, Melinda. How did this happen? I was eighteen just last week,” Dahlia said, hanging her head in her hands.

“I know but don’t think about it now. You won’t get cut. You’ve got at least a year before you have to worry about that.”

There’s more,” Dahlia whispered, “It’s Rand.”

“Mr. crazy-hot body?”

Dahlia smiled half-heartedly, “Yeah, that’s him.”

“So what is he on your last nerve about,” Melinda asked, laughing, “I’d be happy to take him off your hands!”

“We made love last night and,” her voice trailed off as she thought back.

“And,” Melinda snapped anxiously.

“And he accused me, Melinda. I’m guilty. Oh god, I’m guilty as hell! He said I wasn’t there,” Dahlia stopped short and got up to pour a drink.

“Not there? How the hell do you make love and not be there? Oh! You mean, not present?”

“Bingo,” she answered, pulling two glasses from the cupboard, “And it’s the awful truth. From the moment he asked me out, I’ve Grand jeté with every breath. One minute, I was building to orgasmic crescendo, blissfully lost in his touch, his kiss setting me on fire, and a minute later he asked, ‘Where are you, Dahlia? Where did you go?’ That’s when I realized it.”

“Realized what,” Melinda voiced her confusion, “I Grand jeté into every open door when I’m in love. Hell, that’s how I know when I’m in love!”

“Yea? And do you get lost in thinking about how the turn of your ankle was slightly off just as you’re writhing beneath him about to climax?”

“No way,” Melinda cringed.

“Way,” Dahlia placed filled glasses on the table and poured rum into each without measurement.

“You just got distracted,” Melinda offered, “He doesn’t know how hard it is for dancers. Did you tell him this could be your last year?”

Dahlia rolled her eyes at Melinda, “Yeah right. He’ll understand. He’s an architect, for crying out loud.”

“Do you love him, Dahlia? Is he absolutely the one,” Melinda swallowed hard, not expecting the amount of rum she got, “I mean, maybe he’s not worth all this?”

Dahlia sat her drink down and glued her eyes to the floor answering, “He is and he’s leaving next month.”

“Oh. Oh! He asked you to.”

Dahlia put a hand up, “Stop! Don’t say it!”

Melinda was ecstatic and crushed for Dahlia; even though it would be the break Melinda was hoping for.

Dahlia couldn’t speak. This was worse than being torn between two lovers. Dance was her life. She took a long draught and whispered, “Yes, he did.”

“And you’re?”

“I don’t know,” Dahlia cried, “I don’t know what to do! I only have a year left in dance but Rand said he’s never coming back. I asked him to wait but he needs to feel more important than anything else. He won’t wait! When he’s gone, he’s really gone,” Dahlia poured her heart out.

Finally, Melinda extracted a teabag from her velvet clutch and held it up to the light explaining, “It was a gag gift at a party I just came from.”

“Melinda!” Dahlia was shocked at her but curious, “What’s in it?”

“Pills,” Melinda replied.

“Duh! What kind of pills?”

Melinda paused, grappling for the right words and finally blurted, “The answer to your problems, Russian Roulette pills.”

“Melinda, what are you talking about?”

“Grand jeté into the grave,” Melinda whispered, testing Dahlia’s mettle, “In case of emergency, make tea.”

Dahlia descended into a fit of giggles and Melinda couldn’t help but join her. Melinda filled the teapot with water and Dahlia put the kettle on the stove. The two embraced happily and Dahlia laughed, “Okay, you’ve made your point!”

“Good! I was half worried you would do it,” Melinda grinned patting Dahlia on the back.

“It’s not a fate worse than death, but it is in a way.”

“Oh yes,” Melinda laughed, “I’d sooner die than marry Mr. crazy-hot-body! Geezzee! Drama! Drama! Drama!”

 

 

 

 

 

By Wildfire8470

 

wildfire8470copy

 

 

 

 

 

 

© September 19, 2016 – 04:44 AM – All Rights Reserved

Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected  T8O2-RC3R-UEKZ-CQWG

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 3

Image

Between the Devil and the Deep

Part 3

 

sirena-3

(Photo (c) kiaarax

The axe fell and Jake was extremely fortunate though suffering a good deal of survivor’s guilt. He saw three good friends let go along with many less tenured personnel at Carson & Rand, but he had been promoted to fill a new slot at the company.

 

It was no secret that two positions, now vacated, were conglomerated into one and retitled. One man to do two jobs would ease the burden on the company and would certainly make or break the man appointed to do it.

 

Carson knew Jake was the man for the job. Jake can do this with his eyes closed. He’s been covering for those slackers all year, he thought, recalling that he had hand-picked him from throngs of applicants two years ago.

 

In him, Carson saw a ‘mover and a shaker’, a younger replica of himself. Yes sir, he congratulated himself, Jake will fill the void at a lesser salary and it will still be a hefty raise to him.

 

Jake swallowed hard watching his friends empty their desks and clear out office spaces that he would soon occupy. They said civil goodbyes as he looked slightly past them unable to meet their eyes. He knew it could just as easily be him vacating the premises and he could barely breathe as they filed past him to the door. It was promotion served with a roundhouse punch, upward mobility delivered with complimentary uppercut. 

 

Emotionally and mentally Jake was beaten black and blue. Though relieved he had been spared, he was crestfallen knowing his promotion came at the expense of coworkers whom he liked and respected. My life is a roller-coaster from hell, he thought, scowling out the window.

 

Following grueling weeks of adjustment and weeks of long hours, Jake assuaged his guilt with the purchase of a shiny, new cabin cruiser which he named The Siren. When the load at work finally lightened he took three weeks of leave.

 

Every evening he sailed the sea headed for the same place; the place where she had appeared and everything had changed. He dropped anchor close enough to see the beach where he had met Sirena, or had a momentary breakdown, he reminded himself.

 

This time Jake stayed out all weekend telling himself he had earned a break after the office cutbacks and accompanying anxieties. But while at sea his eyes were constantly scanning, always searching for red hair sparking in the sunlight or anything resembling the mermaid he recalled. Sirena still filled his thoughts and he couldn’t let her go. He still felt unsettled in a way that would give him no peace.

 

Maybe I just need confirmation that she wasn’t real. Maybe that’s closure, he thought, but then tacked on, and maybe I’m fishing for the one that got away. He scratched his chin in consternation, continuing, either way I’ll have a tall fish-tale bigger than the rest, and scowled into the horizon knowing how unlikely it was that he would ever breathe a word of it.

 

Jake cruised several miles out into deeper water, noted dark clouds building in the evening sky, and took it as a personal challenge. He checked the portal weather station and turned the transistor radio on to hear reports of thunderheads and storms throughout the coming night. “Good,” he mumbled, “It suits my foul mood just fine.”

 

Sirena clung to large rocks which balanced precariously atop a sandbar. She could do nothing but hang on for her life and wait, while the driving rain pummeled and stung her flesh. Deafening thunder punctuated by blue-white lightning bolts split the ink-black sky around her. She had never seen her home from this perspective before. She’d never felt threatened by her own world until now.

 

She renewed her tentative grip on slippery rocks and vented her anger trying to best the thunder, she screamed, “I get it! You’re messing with me. Right?” Forgetting herself, she flung her fist into the air and went under again. Scrambling to surface, Sirena realized she could barely swim without her fishtail.

 

She fought to gain ground, pulling her shoulders and torso onto the rocks, angling for a safer position and yelling spitefully, “You’re punishing me for changing the natural order! Right? I thought we had a deal, Poseidon!” Another bolt plunged into murky depths as if in answer, while she watched another enormous wave building.

 

“Rhea should have kicked your ass to kingdom come the first time you ever threw a fit!” Sirena screamed her rage and terror into the driving wind and rain that battered her aching, exhausted body. With too little fight left she tightened her fists and filled her lungs for the next wave.

 

More torrents beat her down threatening to drown, but she wasn’t going to die without driving her point home. With a burst of energy born of anguished rage, she unleashed personal umbrage that matched her fiery hair illuminated in staccato, electric-blue flashes, “You traitor,” she wailed, unleashing hell’s fury, “I said I wanted to try being human! You call this a try? You’re a welcher and a traitor, Poseidon!”

 

Sirena hurled the insult into the torrential night with her voice breaking as rage gave way to throes of impotent sobs, “You make me human and drop me into certain death? That’s it? No warning? Why are you doing this to me,” she demanded, sputtering, coughing up seawater, and facing imminent death, yet raising her fist defiantly.

 

Again, the merciless night saw her hysteria, shrieking and weeping soul-wrenching tears, yet offered no reprieve. Now lost in the virulence of utter madness, Sirena didn’t see the last wave that tore her from the rocks, slammed her back into them and knocked her unconscious. She slipped below the surface, a tiny speck in the vast, violent ocean, knowing that she would die completely unnoticed; utterly alone.

 

Jake heard distinct cries of distress and knew her in an instant. He grabbed the torch in time to see her red hair flashing in white-hot, jagged electric, and shaking her tiny fist in determined resignation even as she went under, time and again. He ran to starboard and leapt astern, with his mind racing, I knew you were real! I knew it! Jake dropped the torch and dove overboard, yelling, “Hang on, Sirena! I’m coming!”

 

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 1 —>

<—Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 4 

 

©December 03, 2015 – 11:21 PM – All Rights Reserved
Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected  KEA9-IT5V-BVAA-UXAC

 

 

 

You’re Mine (The Original)

Female Masturbation1

Standing in the shower, soapy hands in my hair, absentmindedly working the lather as I think of all that we have shared and your words echo through my mind as I lean back against the wall.

 

“You’re mine,”

 

Reaching to finger my clit as I remember your face, only inches from mine and your breath against my skin as you hissed,

 

“You’re mine. Only mine,” and I know that I am… that it is all I ever want to be.   I press one finger into my tight, hot pussy, already longing for you in ways that I have never desired another and I wonder about tonight, about the future, about how and where you will touch me, about what will become of me.

 

Closing my eyes, I run my fingers from shoulder to breast, imagining your hands on me, your fingers grazing my nipples and sliding down my abdomen, always with your voice in my head,

 

“You’re mine. You’re only mine.”

 

And I know that I am, but will never admit it.  

 

I wonder how long I’ll crave you as I slip two fingers into my aching wetness, imagining your long, hard cock slamming into me as my breath comes harder and faster. Stroking my clit harder and letting the hot water pummel me while I picture you driving your tongue into me, licking and laving me there, driving me into white-hot desperation as whimpers escape and I give in to this passionate assault.  

 

I am trembling with desire, tears are stinging my eyes, threatening to give way to the ocean behind my eyelids knowing that my soul is not my own anymore, that this heat and desire is all about you, always you, “You’re mineMineOnly mine,” and I cannot protest.

 

I cannot, will not refuse you anything, knowing that you possess me now; that you own my secretive thoughts and traitorous body. I am painfully aware there is nothing I can deny you.

 

“You’re mine,”

 

And I whisper the only reply that I have, “Yes, love. Yes. I’m yours, all yours, only yours.”  

 

Feeling you penetrate me, your cock driving into me flaming-hot and so, so hard as my tight little pussy explodes and I let the tears fall, finally admitting it, if only to myself, while fervently praying that you never test me, never find out just how much power you have.

 

I let my breathing slow picturing your strong arms pinning me to your chest, locking me into your embrace and I know… and I know… I am yours.  

 

I rinse the soap from my body with the last of the hot water. Wrapping a towel around me. I make my way into the bedroom and open the closet to pull all my work clothes aside, working my way to the back where I stashed all my “sexy clothes.” Your voice is still ringing in my ears, “You’re mine, my love. Only mine.”  

 

I pull back the dresses meant for office parties to find the short, skimpy dress that I bought just to wear for you, the one that remained hidden until now.  With trembling fingers, I pull the dress from the hanger and hold it up to me in the mirror, rolling my eyes at the slit that is almost all the way up to there, and wondering why I dared to buy such a skimpy outfit. Then taking a seat on the bed, I lay the dress beside me to lay out stockings, garters and five-inch stilettos, and then quickly pull the blankets over me.

 

I lay back on my pillows holding one against me, imagining your hard frame on top of me, feeling the weight of you holding me down. You are kissing me deeply, passionately and I am arching to press my body to yours, needing you with a fierce intensity. I slide my fingers between my thighs imagining you holding me down, pinning me hard against the mattress as you press the head of your thick, steely cock into my fiery, tight, little cunt.

 

Your hands, so much larger than mine, cup my breasts as I drive my fingers into your hair. You take my hard nipples between your lips while I close my heavy eyelids and surrender to this sweet agony. Always hearing you tell me, over and over again,

 

“You’re mine. You belong to me.”  

 

I push two fingers into my steaming-hot cunt fast and hard, thinking of your granite girth filling me, and stealing my breath as your demanding lips claim mine.

 

I remember how I fought you; fought for my very sanity and fought my own desires, squirming and writhing beneath you, fighting and pushing against you. Then both your hands were at each side of my face not letting me turn away, even as I  cursed your strength you kissed away the last of my fight.  

 

You were stroking my hard, sensitized clit and I was grinding against you, letting you claim me in ways that no one ever has. I let you bruise my lips, my neck, branding me your own, and I know… and I know… I am yours… only yours.  

 

I ache for you, my skin burning for your touch and I already feel my soaking wet pussy clinging to your rock-hard erection, driving into my hot center, forcing me open to you. You are pushing me past all of my limits, shoving me straight into the teeth of elicit, white-hot desire and making me burn for you as I stroke my clit faster and harder.  

 

I picture how you rubbed your cock against me there, grinding against me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have you inside me. Remembering how I reached between our bodies, finding just enough space to take you with both hands and plunge you into my fiery tightness. Recalling the feeling of you, your unrelenting, steely need and letting the tension build into unbearable, electric-lust.  

 

I’m longing for your delicious completion as I force my fingers into my aching pussy again and again, harder and faster, arching to feel your broad, firm frame crushed to me, your lips on mine kissing me long and hard.

 

Your fingers stroke faster and harder until my pussy erupts, throbbing hard around my fingers and I can almost feel your full, hard length pulsing inside of me… almost… and I know… and I know… and I know… and I whisper it aloud, as if to dispel this demon, “I’m yours, love. Do with me what you will,”  

 

The words echo in my mind as my breathing finally slows. Always, always hearing you, over and again, “You are mine. All mine, only mine. Always,” until I come down from my all-consuming climax, where can I open my eyes into the darkness and still imagine you here.  

 

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© November 24, 2015   8:36am – All Rights Reserved

Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected  8W2I-EFWT-RXK6-YAOK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 2

Image

Jake's Insanity

Insanity © Genius Editorial Project

 

He stood on the shore, scanning the rolling waves and hoping to catch sight of her, even as he began to unravel. With both hands gripping the sides of his head, a tortured scream was wrenched from deep in his gut, echoing from sea to sky and back to him.

 

“No! No! No! No! Noooooooo! This isn’t happening! What the fuck is happening to me? Fucking hell!”

 

With his knees giving way Jake slid limply to the ground having no clue where to turn now. Night descended while he sat, butt in the cool sand, reviewing the day and trying to determine exactly where he’d slipping off the beam.

 

Okay, He thought determinedly, so layoffs are more traumatic than I’d realized. So what? I’ll find another job. A better job! Yea! And make more money than I do now! It’s a momentary mental break, just a minor, little psychotic, He winced at the word, break. He continued coaching himself. That’s all. My mind just created a powerful diversion; an escape, of sorts. What man can resist a siren? Yea, it’s a delusion, that’s all. I’m okay now. I’m fine.

 

But Jake was acutely aware that he wasn’t fine.

 

Mermaid, he snickered at himself. You’ve read too many tales of man versus sea, old boy!

 

He effectively talked himself down from the proverbial ledge when his thoughts turned to Katherine. She never failed to warm his heart and he took immense comfort in her nurturance. Jake had chosen his first wife wisely and longed to go to her now.

 

He could almost feel his head in her lap while she ran delicate fingers through his hair, whispering, “Shhh quiet your mind, love. Don’t think any more tonight. Close your eyes and I’ll sooth you to sleep.”

 

He rested elbows on knees still gripping his head, as though it may explode, thinking, I can’t let her see me like this. For crying out loud, get it together man! You have real responsibilities to handle!

 

Then Myra’s face came to mind. She was such a joy to be with and a smile never failed to kiss his lips at the thought of her. She was the woman he shared his dreams and ambitions with, the wife who seemed to think he could do no wrong. Myra always looked at him reflecting all that he wished to see in himself. Nothing was too silly or far-fetched. No topic was off limits. He imagined the amusement in her eyes if she could see him now, knowing that regardless, he may never speak of this day to anyone.

 

Jake released his head and stood to swipe the sand from his rumpled clothing and all traces of delusion from his face. He ran his hands over jeans and tan skin ensuring that he was entirely put together. Pausing for a brief moment, he looked out at the constantly rolling waves, whispering to himself, “I’m okay. I’m a lucky man. If the price of having too much love is a momentary lapse, I’ll count myself very lucky indeed,” He comforted himself.

 

Jake turned homeward feeling as though he were trudging through wet cement, but forced his feet to turn back saying , “Goodbye, my beautiful Sirena. Perhaps we will meet again someday.”

 

Sirena floated silently in the ocean, hidden in breakers with tears in her eyes, watching him disappear into the night.

 

 

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Devil and the Deep, Part 3 —>

 

 

© December 03, 2015 – 11:21 PM – All Rights Reserved
Copyrighted.com Registered & Protected  KEA9-IT5V-BVAA-UXAC