Status: take what you want from this story. the characters are for you to decide who is who.
Human After All
you make me hot like fever, hot like i want to drown myself in lake michigan in winter
Her window is open a crack and the dishes she's washing by hand (she didn't have the expenses to buy herself a dishwasher, plus with it being only her there, she didn't think it was necessary) are catching the light just the right way. The Dawn dish soap sits on the window above her sink and the Sun shines through the liquid and makes it a paler color. The rays carry on through the bottle to her arm half submerged in the soapy water and puts a pale blue dot on her arm.
She's thinking of his bedspread which is the exact same color, or at least it was that color last time she was there. One time, she remembers, they were sleeping together and when she woke up, she curled against him and said her stomach hurt. He kissed her head and held her for awhile before she felt the warm liquid on her thighs. "Shit!"
He told her it was okay and that he wasn't mad and that it would wash out.
It did wash out, for the most part. Two dark blue spots stayed on his bedspread for as long as she remembered, it didn't look like a blood stain, it just looked like someone had spilt some water. But the points at which they were gave away what they really were from. The first spot came from they night that he'd carried her to the bed and gently undressed her. She remembered him kissing her neck, and then she remembered the sounds he made that were beautiful, and she remembers they kissed like God himself would come down and pull the two apart at any moment. The first stain came from that night.
She hadn't been a virgin, but it'd been almost a year since she'd had sex and her hymen had shrunk some during the time. When she stained his bed the first time she didn't worry.
And even with those two stains, he never threw away that bedspread. He told her the two spots were now as much a part of the bedspread as the thread that made it up.
She thinks of all these things and she thinks of one night where his lips moved at incredible speeds across hers and his hand grab her side at just the right spot. She's reliving how much she wanted him and she's got him and they're tangled up on top on the covers this time. Their only light in the moon and stars and each others eyes. They're moving so fast and she's trying hard to keep up and she's moving just as fast. He puts his mouth by her ear and whispers to her that she makes him so hot. And then all she wants is to be gone and the word is echoing in her head. That word, hot, makes her feel feverish like the name, and she's feeling vile things rise up from her stomach into her throat and all the while she's trying to keep pace with him.
She's thinking of his bedspread which is the exact same color, or at least it was that color last time she was there. One time, she remembers, they were sleeping together and when she woke up, she curled against him and said her stomach hurt. He kissed her head and held her for awhile before she felt the warm liquid on her thighs. "Shit!"
He told her it was okay and that he wasn't mad and that it would wash out.
It did wash out, for the most part. Two dark blue spots stayed on his bedspread for as long as she remembered, it didn't look like a blood stain, it just looked like someone had spilt some water. But the points at which they were gave away what they really were from. The first spot came from they night that he'd carried her to the bed and gently undressed her. She remembered him kissing her neck, and then she remembered the sounds he made that were beautiful, and she remembers they kissed like God himself would come down and pull the two apart at any moment. The first stain came from that night.
She hadn't been a virgin, but it'd been almost a year since she'd had sex and her hymen had shrunk some during the time. When she stained his bed the first time she didn't worry.
And even with those two stains, he never threw away that bedspread. He told her the two spots were now as much a part of the bedspread as the thread that made it up.
She thinks of all these things and she thinks of one night where his lips moved at incredible speeds across hers and his hand grab her side at just the right spot. She's reliving how much she wanted him and she's got him and they're tangled up on top on the covers this time. Their only light in the moon and stars and each others eyes. They're moving so fast and she's trying hard to keep up and she's moving just as fast. He puts his mouth by her ear and whispers to her that she makes him so hot. And then all she wants is to be gone and the word is echoing in her head. That word, hot, makes her feel feverish like the name, and she's feeling vile things rise up from her stomach into her throat and all the while she's trying to keep pace with him.