Spring 2017:
It wasn't difficult for Santana Lopez to close her eyes and relive memories just from listening to songs. She was in bed restless and wired with energy next to her sleeping wife. Leaned up on an elblow she kept tapping shuffle until something stuck. Her skin tingled as the song started. Sometimes she would play on repeat to meditate and reflect on one. This night she had Chris Brown's "They don't know" playing softly in her headset as she typed out her experiences associated with the tune into her tablet.
Winter 2014:
I hate this. I feel sick. I hate myself. My stomach feels like it's trying to twist into mush.
I had been trying my best to figure out how to get out of a freshly dug hole I made...
No mess-free solutions coming to mind. All I wanted was freedom. Room to breathe, room to grow. Solitude. I wasn't looking for this.
Suddenly my phone buzzed loudly causing me to string out soft curses, scrambling to choke off all possible sounds it made. Rachel stirred quietly from her side of the bed, but did not wake up.
I watched silently, anticipating, until her breathing slowed again.
As soon as I felt she was asleep again, I clicked my iPhone screen back on to see what notification I had waiting for me: 1 new message from Quinn Fabray.
My stomach fluttered with emotions.
Is she asleep yet? - Q
I swallowed, then typed my reply.
Yeah. What are you doing? - S
I watched my dimly lit message box pop up with dots, telling me she was writing a response.
Thinking about you. Want to know what I'm wearing? - Q
Boy, did I. My heart was pounding, blood rushing in my ears making a dull roar.
What about me?
Yeah, what? - S
How I want to kiss you... All over.
I'm wearing that matching set I bought at VS before we left for exodus.- Q
My hands were sweating, I knew the exact set she was talking about. The day before we flew home on exodus - military jargon for tech school students 'winter break' - she begged me to come with her to the mall one last time. That day she purchased a cream colored lace bra and matching panty. Quinn loved one thing just a few degrees less than she loved her son: shopping. We did that frequently together when we weren't training at the hospital.
...Want to see? - Q
"Who are you talking to?" Rachel was sitting up and looking at me groggy and annoyed.
Fuck. "Oh..it's Fabray." I mumbled, shutting my phone off.
Rachel scoffed, "Can you please tell your bestie that you'll text her tomorrow? Your fiancé needs holding while she sleeps." She flopped back down on her side facing the window, pulling my arm across her soft tummy.
I scooted close to her and slipped my phone under my pillow holding her from behind, tucking my knees under her thighs.
My brain was zooming with anxious thoughts. I wanted to see.
As soon as Rachel's breathing slowed again, I started to inch my arm from around her stomach. She shifted in sleep and I took the risk of moving away entirely from her to lay on my back. I held my breath to listen to the result. She didn't wake up.
I grabbed my phone and switched it back on: 1 attachment, 5 unread messages.
Shit.
I quickly tapped into the picture and felt my insides clutch and twist at what I saw.
The picture was subpar quality, dim, warm lighting... she took the picture from her bathroom mirror. Breasts swelling over the top of cream lace cups. Lace panties hugging her hips. Her gold hair was braided across her head like a crown, a mischievous smile held between a lip bite.
The only thing out of place was a children's Batman towel hanging loosely on the towel rack in the background.
You likes?
Hello?
Wtf, Lopez this isn't funny.
I'm not sending you anything ever. - Q
I started panicking a little. 20mins had already passed since her last text and I didn't want to lose the path we were traveling.
Hey, I'm here.
You look incredible.. - S
W/e, what are you willing to do for more?
Lol nvm, I took a whole bunch. I'm sending them - Q
I waited for a while just staring at the screen waiting for the rest to show up... but nothing came.
My phone started vibrating. She was calling. Fuck fuck fuck. I hit the answer button and put the phone up to my ear away from Rachel.
"Shut up, don't talk." She said quickly.
"My phone's acting stupid and won't let me send them. So I'm going to send it to your email." After that, I heard the line go dead.
I created a new email address just for her so we could communicate through it during the day. If Rachel went through my text messages she wouldn't see anything suspicious. But through email, I would just log in separately on Safari and talk to her how I wanted.
I opened up the account and sent myself the pic I received earlier to enjoy later. There I had an unread email with 10 different attachments. All of them were deliciously indecent.
In one picture she had her plump ass sitting up on the bathroom counter, back arched. Another was her holding a leg pointed straight up towards the ceiling with her long hair undone from the braid.
The third was her bent over the counter, smushing her boobs together.
Most of them similarly taken. Somewhere she changed and switched up the cream lingerie for an even skimper set with a black thong and garter belt skipping a bra altogether without showing any nips.
But the last photo made my underwear wet.
A complete nude! My eyes devoured the image. Dusty pink nipples, blond pubes, a serious fuck me expression on her face.
Did you get them? - Q
I spent a good 5 mins gawking at the last picture.
...Holy shit. - S
Mmm, I'm glad you approve. Send me some pics of your cute face in the morning babe.
Have a good night missing me. - Q
As soon as I read that text I deleted all of my text history with her and shut my phone off completely. My heart was in my fucking throat.
I stayed awake hungry for her until the sky opened up to light. The lust bled into self loathing, which turned into resentment towards Rachel. Emotions, questions, elusive logic... all of it rumbled inside of me until I finally gave into exhaustion, falling into a deep slumber.