"Paindancer" - Pages 46 & 47 (I literally JUST wrote this)

WARNING: Adult Language; Adult Themes

I just adore this scene. It makes me laugh, like, everytime I read it.



* * * * *

“One new voicemail: Thursday, at five eighteen pm.” The automated faux-feminine drone on my cell announced itself with robotic precision. Early afternoon sun beat through the windows, uncomfortably warm. Mallory and I had just woken up.

“Sidonie, it’s Salem. Just calling to check on you. Call me back.”

I wanted there to be more to the message, some room to maneuver between the lines. But there wasn’t. I stared at the tiny screen, angry with him and flagellating myself for expecting something different.

Mallory came bouncing out of the bathroom, toothbrush sticking haphazardly out of the side of her mouth as she hopped up on the bed.

“Who was that?” She asked, inhaling and slurring the words together as she attempted not to drizzle toothpaste-foam all over my comforter. I snapped the phone closed, tossing it over on the nightstand. The sharp thud as it collided with the tacky ceramic cougar lamp was immensely satisfying.

“Ahh… no one. Salem. I mean, my tutor. Calling to check on me, you know. You look adorable.” I rolled over in bed, tweaking the corner of her panties, hiding half my face under the covers and peeking up at her. She gave me a long appraising stare, squinting her eyes half closed and brushing her teeth in agonizingly slow strokes.

Suddenly her eyebrows shot up and she leveled the lathered white head of her toothbrush at my face.

“No way!” She dashed to the sink and spit

“No way, what?” I blinked, calling after her.

“Mr. Ostrand? Your teacher, the one you had five years ago? The dude that married that pagan chick?”

“Yeah – ”

She advanced on the bed, hands rapping against her waist. “You’ve slept with him, haven’t you?” She grinned fair to split her face, her eyes glittering with scandalous aplomb.

“What? No… I mean…” I tried to hide under the blanket, but she ripped it off. She pounced on the bed like a great and drowsy lioness, pinning my wrists to the bed with one hand and straddled my chest.

How does she DO that? I thought, half rankled and half amused that she could so easily read me.

“Vixen.” She whispered, lightly tickling under my arms. “You will tell me absolutely everything.”

I squirmed, bubbling with laughter. “And if I don’t?”

“Oh…” She slithered down the length of my body, nipples barely grazing my skin. She gripped my hips in a vise-like brace, flickering her tongue over the damp slip of fabric covering my clit. “You will talk, Milady.”

I grabbed fistfuls of bed-sheets as Jaboticaba fruit erupted in tantalizing profusion behind my eyes. In this, too, there was healing.

* * * * *

My mother watched Mallory leave later that afternoon, an aggrieved expression distinctly out of sync with the rest of her impeccable composure.

“I am so glad,” she said, “that my room is on the other side of the house.”

I blushed, ducking out the back.

* * * * *

 
“Paindancer,” By Lineia Corell
Copyright © 2010