Here's a not-love story or a sort-of love story, or maybe, a maybe-love story, told especially for you, courtesy of:
Him & Her
Ladies first.
Here goes.
I took a deep breath as I began walking towards the door, checking myself in the reflection of the glass, examining the black heels and the tight black dress, the veiled hat, and the matching satin clutch that make up my carefully crafted outfit. I'm beautiful, so it's okay.
They've already begun and once I step in the room, I see thirty heads spin around to look (and glare) at me. I didn't say anything, but I scanned the area as quickly as I could, trying to find my place.
My eyes run across the space and I could see my mother and father already sitting off to the side. My brother was off somewhere with Goten, probably making out because they're exactly as warped as I am and why does anyone want to have feelings about things these days anyway?
The casket, the pulpit, the flowers arranged delicately from ceiling to floor- it's all very overwhelming and surreal. I can understand why Goten wouldn't want to be here. We don't tend to experience death around these parts. A portrait of the deceased is framed, front and center as a gloomy focal point at which everyone might bawl. The sun drearily shines through the tinted panes of the windows. Dust particles float gently in the sienna glow of the sun. Perhaps it's true that that's all that we turn into when our lives have expired and the world is done with us. Perhaps, we all just turn into some awful powder, we transform into rust or dust, and there's nothing that we can do about it. I'm not sure why we're bothering to pray. My father has met gods. We know the answer to these questions.
The pointlessness of the entire exercise strikes me sharply, and suddenly, I forgive myself for my tardiness.
None of this matters.
With a look designed to be expressionless, I stare forward and take quick, certain steps to the spot on the left by my dad. Every step echoes like the clatter of dad's fists banging against the metal sides of the gravity chamber. I don't like to think of Dad, or of his Gravity Chamber, and I don't like to think of the sound that my heels make against the tile.
Dad must have said something sarcastic or inappropriate, not-quite under his breath, because mother slaps him hard on the shoulder. It makes a loud clapping sound. It is as is the entire world has stopped to watch the objectionable daughter of the objectionable Vegeta-Briefs couple behaving in the most objectionable of ways. I guess this sort of behavior is expected from us; I think you know what you get when it comes to our clan. He glares at her but doesn't respond. I don't want to walk towards my parents, but I do, if only to end the dreaded sound of my own footsteps taking me to my seat. "Bra," Mom says sharply in my ear, "You're late."
I slide into the seat unceremoniously. I stare at the carpet to conceal the glare that I inevitably shoot back at her. It's an ugly green color fashioned together from cheap fibers and I am reminded of the dye that they use to make the grass more vibrant in the suburbs.
No, really?
I don't respond; I don't need to. I'm seated and they begin again after a dark look is sent to me by the priest. It sort of causes chills, but what's anyone going to do about it, anyway?
Unimpressed with the non-reply, my mother's eyes, sharpened sapphires pointed directly at me, look back over, "You had better have a good excuse for this."
I don't, but I guess I'll come up with something. She's breathing fire straight down my neck even across my father, who sits expressionlessly next to me, and the only thing there is to do is pretend that I don't care as my mom chastises me and hisses, "Bra Briefs, you have no tact at all!"
The priest keeps saying words about a woman he's never met, trying to give comfort to the people who knew her well. He seems a stitch plastic to me and he fits in with this place and this situation which all feel so painfully manufactured and forced that I can barely endure the whole practice.
There's a sound over to the right, and it seems far more interesting than whatever empty platitudes are being offered to us about peace and serenity in the afterlife. Looks like we're not the only ones making a bit of a commotion.
"Shh, shh..." Videl is shushing her husband, over and over with urgency. I cast my gaze up towards the front of the room.
"Ugh," I hear a voice scoff and immediately I know its master. I take pleasure in listening in on their conversation, soaking in his outrage. "How awful can she be? I can't believe Bulma and Vegeta raised such a brat, and I can't believe she has so little respect for-"
"Gohan, you ought to calm down." His wife tries to pacify him. She's rubbing his arm. I tilt my head to the side just slightly and I can see him muttering as he cleans his glasses. I can't roll my eyes hard enough.
Gohan's such an uptight nerd. I think he's always hated me, to be honest. He's so different from his ridiculous father and his fun-loving brother. And as for ChiChi? Perhaps he's as strict as she was, but there's something that she had that's missing in him, even now, and ChiChi is dead.
I guess it's fitting I should, at some point, come to reflect on Son ChiChi's caring personality and great cooking skills at her funeral. I guess a lot of people don't blame my mom or Gohan for that matter, for being so angry at me. I mean, honestly, to think that I'd show up late twenty minutes for the service. How dare I barge in on their grief, how could I be so indifferent to their pain?
I'm not sure, to be honest. But then again, I've done worse. I don't know why I do things, I just do. It's a compulsion.
They act like death even matters to any of them, when Goku spends half his time in-and-out of the check in station between the worlds, and apparently, we've got friends in pretty high places. Mother says that Heaven is beautiful and that she and ChiChi even get to keep their bodies in the afterlife, again, presumably for having friends in high positions, like Dad and Goku.
You'd think none of them would care because they're the ones who are so special, who have gone on all of the adventures. They're the ones who left ChiChi behind to worry about her husband, and then her sons, never knowing when peace would finally settle upon the Earth.
And when it did? I shudder. Pan and I were the first children born in the time of peace. There were no major conflicts, no need for the DragonBalls. Mother traveled throughout the galaxy and the heavens, and she wondered why I stared at her when she suggested I go into accounting because I don't like science or medicine. I'm the first one born in the world after the glitter faded when the heroes were left to stare at themselves contentedly and to look upon their families, or to run away (as the case was with Goku), or to assimilate (as was the case with my father, I think).
Maybe ChiChi is the lucky one. She doesn't have to keep performing the meaningless song and dance that is daily life, nor is she forced to endure the monotony of the nine-to-five grind. ChiChi got to live in the exciting time, to be the lover of the greatest fighter known to man, and though she died alone, she died with dignity.
I wish I could have been there to hold her hand.
So yeah, we start in this dark place. He hates me and I probably deserve it. I'm not that bad, but I'm also probably up to no good.
And me? I don't hate him, but I don't like him too much, either. I'm not so impressed with his books or his skills.
So look, I know I'm not particularly great at first impressions, but even though I probably really ticked him off that time I showed up to his mother's funeral late, I don't really believe that he should hold it against me in the future. But what do I know? He holds everything against me. Not that I know that yet. There, sitting in the pews, I'm still blissfully unaware, more interested in my evening than our personal dynamics. I couldn't have possibly known anything at that point, with my head clouded with the drugs I'd downed before the service, on the car in the way there, and my thoughts flooded with the absurdity of life and its utter pointlessness.
We were solemnly eating a quiet dinner in a guest hall at one of the city's fancy venues when Goten and Trunks showed up, hollow-eyed, in time for dinner. No one asked where Goku was. Everyone just kept talking to Gohan, lining up to speak with him and shake his officious hand. He's the head of the family now.
I glance down at my phone a lot. I was out late with a friend and when I woke up in his condo on the other side of West City, I barely remembered the event. I mean, ChiChi may not have approved of it, but I was partying hard for the both of us last night. I cried for ChiChi on the dance floor but it was dark and I don't think anyone noticed. When my boyfriend asked me if I wanted drugs, you know, uppers, to make things feel better, or to take off the edge, and I realized it would be pointless. I didn't do it in front of the guy. I waited for him to disappear in the crowd before I put the magic poison to my lips, just so that it would be my own little secret. I think that's a feeling ChiChi could probably relate to, whether she would've admitted to it or not.
Now, Gentlemen:
When Bulma came up to me, asking me to take Bra on as an intern at my office, my first concern was whether or not I could keep a straight face. What a terrible joke, what a horrible proposition.
"Gohan," Bulma says seriously, gazing up at me over a glass of sparkling white wine and a brute honesty that cannot be ignored, "With Trunks about to be in power of Capsule Corporations, it could look very good if someone as well-connected as Bra could-"
"Bulma, no offense, but Bra is just a little bit-" As quickly as I began, Bulma cut me off. I stopped, cleaning my glasses a little bit. This is too much. I know already that there's a distinct possibility this could be a losing battle. I've fought a lot of battles; I win nearly none of them against this woman. I guess I'm lucky that I didn't just insult her daughter outright in front of her. That potentially could have gone very, very wrong.
Still, Bulma's trying to play nice. "Look, give her a chance. She'll be a wonderful asset to your campaign."
"Bulma, Bra can't even show up to a funeral on time, why do you think she's going to do well in a very tightly managed office?" I try to not offend her. Bulma's not flinching.
"She needs direction," she said, simply. Bulma put a determined hand on my shoulder. I'm trading anxious glances with Videl, who stands across the room and speaks lovingly to Goten. Bulma's voice interrupts the image: "That girl hasn't done a single thing with her life since she got out of university, and it's time. Come on, Gohan, you give Bra a shot and some sense of responsibility and duty and I'll help you out."
"Bulma… are you asking me to babysit your daughter?" I ask, raising a brow.
The look in her eyes suggests a hunter who spots her prey. Blood rushes to my face and I know this is the only chance that I have to find a way to say no, absolutely not, I do not want this, and I seriously cannot do it, Bulma! You've asked me to do a lot of things before, and I relent to you often, but this is just too much. I have no desire in the world to work in close quarters with that self-absorbed brat! What could she possibly help me do, give me fashion advice?
Exhaustion and annoyance bubbles up from inside of me. That wretched girl couldn't even make it on time to my mother's funeral, and Bulma wants me to make her employable. What a joke. Didn't she have some super-lucrative modeling career like most other pretty young rich girls? Isn't there some film producer who can be bribed, some place with other young and attractive people all wanting to lounge around together being useless?
"Of course not, Gohan." Bulma laughed, taking my arm and spinning me around. We're headed towards a private table, far away from our friends and family. This is a business negotiation and it is a disaster. "That would be like expecting you to remember how many times I used to babysit you and how I took care of you on Namek and have always loved you and your family-"
I flushed.
Oh, the guilt!
"Alright, alright, what do you want me to do?" I asked, shaking my head. For the record, Bulma was not a very good babysitter. Bulma leans in and smiles.
She smiles brightly at me, taking my arm, "I knew you would understand, Gohan." Her sense of satisfaction is almost mind-numbing.
This is coercion, but the days and weeks following my mother's funeral service move quickly. I remember the events only as if they were a rough sketch, incomplete and far away: I move to have Bra placed at the bottom of the ranks. She checks the mailroom and fetches coffee (when she does the things we ask her to do). This does not last long because Bra Briefs happens to be extremely charismatic. She won't do what she doesn't want to do, and no one but me seems to care. I resented her even when I profited directly from a phone call from "Mom's old friend" so-and-so. Bra was proof that hard work didn't mean much when the odds were already stacked in her favor. I spent most of the first few weeks trying to ignore her.
My mother taught me so differently, my mother believed in having a work ethic, in doing things again and again until they were perfect. My mother, who wished that Dad would have come, but he didn't. My father, who may or may not be alive, somewhere, off training or on some adventure, leaving the peaceful to their daily toil. Goten was pretty torn up about Mom, and he went from being at my house constantly to being a ghost himself, a barely detectable presence in the house causing discomfort and anxiety. My family has fallen apart. My parents are gone, my daughter is gone, my brother is gone, and I am gone from my wife because I am here at work, with Bra. This is the first salient memory I have, the image of Bra Briefs sitting on my desk nonchalantly, flipping through a file to which she should never have been granted access.
Something about her, her sultry heels and her easy confidence drove me nuts. Bra's never had a hard day in her life, and yet I've never known someone so difficult. Everyone I've ever known has struggled in some way or another, and yet there she was, completely uninterested in the perfect life Bulma bought all shiny and new for her.
I wanted a distraction, but not this.
Her Words:
Yeah, he was a bit of a jerk at first, but it never lasts long, does it?
Gohan was laughing as he opened the door for me. Without meaning to his hand waits on the back of my waist while I enter the vehicle. The night was warm except for the very slight breeze that crossed my cheeks. Gohan looked over at me pretty seriously for a moment before saying, a little softly, "You know, Bra, you really kind of pulled through for me, tonight. I'm really sort of surprised at you."
Spoiler alert: he won his re-election campaign, and he was pretty thrilled about it. It wasn't because of me, but he had no other option than to acknowledge my role behind the scenes.
I smile at him from my drink. "Don't feel bad, you just weren't aware of my many talents."
He was a little drunk from the formal celebration, knees all bent in towards me. "I'm sure you have plenty of talents," he says over an awkward laugh. Videl was there, but she got tired early in the night and he sent someone to escort her home. He was a little disappointed when Pan couldn't make it for undisclosed reasons. Then, it was just before four in the morning, and we were suddenly alone.
Later I relish these moments, when we're happy and silent together, where no one is here to talk about why these changes are such an unnatural thing, and there's no fear that anyone will note the odd end to our status as natural enemies.
Right now, all that exists is the tiny world of the black leather seats in the back of the limousine, our knees casually brushing as we leaned into each other more closely with every drink and every word. Right now, the only thing that serves as witness to our crime is the light from the streetlamps bursting against his skin every meter or so along the highway."Can I ask you something?" He asks, thoughtful. He gives me that
The laughter stops. We're left to smile at each other, content and pleased with ourselves. This is the most dangerous moment because it is the point at which he thoughtfully says, "Can I ask you something?"
He gives me that look, the one that men give me when they're looking for something that just isn't there. I hate it when people ask to ask something before they ask it. "Depends on what you want to know, I guess."
"What did you think was going to happen when you came back?"
I blinked, "Oh, I don't know, I guess I was just going to figure it out."
"Your marks were fine and you graduated with two degrees, three majors." He said, thoughtful again, just to let me know he read my book.
"I'm so glad that you did your homework, professor." I scoffed, "The liberal arts are hardly relevant anyway."
"I choose to ignore your cynicism." He said, "Or maybe it's self-doubt, from Vegeta's daughter?" His brow lifts curiously. I scan his face.
"Doubting what?" I asked, shooting him a dirty glare. The air got thicker. This is the worst part of Gohan. He's not a mild-mannered scholar anymore, he's been given some real power here and he's staring me down.
Finally: "Why don't you work harder?"
There it is, that's the question.
"You're the daughter of a major executive in the business world and your father... he's the most determined guy I've ever met."
I look downwards and a quite familiar bittersweet smile touches my lips. I've had this conversation before. And there's the rest of it, the bit about how great my parents are and how I'm not living up to the family name. I'm not saying anything. I have no response to this line of questioning, but it has been ringing in my head every day since I was about thirteen.
I'm scratching my neck now. "Didn't I just help you?"
Gohan presses: "Why didn't you just get a job? Your mom owns the company. Did you just not want to do anything?"
"Didn't I talk to some grubby old millionaire who just wrote a check for tons of money for you? Didn't I convince the post to pull that wretched story about you and your dad?" I'm not afraid to talk past him. We can play this game, keep asking questions.
He flinches every time anyone mentions Goku these days. I thought that I had daddy issues.
Gohan presses on: "Were you taking a break? I just mean, you could do anything."
Yeah, anything. I wish I could ask him what experiences on Earth are so worthwhile to him, compared to all of those adventures he went on as a kid. The thing they fought for has fallen into ungrateful hands. I don't want to do anything, I just want to have fun. I just want to feel like there's an experience that feels...
I'm silent for too long. He asks again.
"Why didn't you even try to do something by yourself?"
God, he's so earnest. I hate that he acts like he even understands how futile it feels to be part of the first generation of a world at peace, finally left to its own idle prattle. He doesn't see anything other a dumb, lazy kid. Fine, so be it.
Sarcasm takes over as a natural self-defense: "Gosh, I really could have sworn you were having this situation, where there was less money than you wanted, and then all of a sudden, I did something and then you had plenty of money, even though apparently I don't work or do anything, ever." I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder. "And, like that there were these people asking these questions that you don't want to be made public, and then those questions went away and so did those people. And, I was so fucking sure that there were these emails that went missing, but then I called my brother's people and they showed back up in a day."
He examines me as I check off each task with a lifted finger. Light splashes across his face from the tinted window. His eyes look warm against the amber.
"I can do more for you in a week than half of your people have in two years." I sneered at him.
He didn't relent. "So you're pretty good, why didn't you even try?"
"Man, it must be so hard to criticize all the little peons from that pedestal you've settled on."
He rolls his eyes, "You don't even do anything, people just make everything happen for you, because of who you are- or maybe, in spite of it. I just want to know why you are... the way you are."
What does that even mean? "I did plenty for you tonight when you were all upset that Pan wasn't here and they were wanting you to talk policy!" I hissed.
"Yeah, by having a conversation with someone who knows your last name and leered at your cleavage while he flirted at you for an hour!" It's the first time he's raised his voice in the conversation, and I guess I struck a nerve.
He turns red when he says that. It's thrilling. Back then, I wasn't even sure why. All I knew was that my body was all buzzy and my chest was pounding and Son Gohan was the cause of these sensations which had heretofore been long dead and gone.
We're both so tense. I swallowed a large gulp of wine, wounded by the line of questioning but unwilling to show it.
Deciding to loosen up the mood a bit, in great humor I say, "You know before this, you never told me what you do, or why you own a limo, Gohan." I say, cocking my head to the side. I'm looking around. I smile at him pleasantly, running my hand over the black leather seats. My nails are painted a deep red, they match my dress and my skin looks like porcelain as I fix my eyes on Gohan. He was loosening his know, I see him close his eyes contentedly, and through his
You know, I see him close his eyes contentedly, and through his shirt I can make out what must be pure muscle, and oh God there it is, there's the last thing, the insatiable desire I have to make some real contact with that flesh.
"You didn't think I was so successful?" He asked, raising a brow. I ignore the urge to say it's hard to picture someone as stuffy as he doing well in life. He swirls the wine in his glass. He's smiling at me despite himself, getting used to the idea of being in my presence often and even finding me charming. In spite of some pretty clear efforts on his part, he's feeling something confusing towards me that he's unsure about and he's indulging himself after a few bottles of wine.
I'm feeling some pretty uncertain things for him as well.
I gave him a small, reassuring smile, "You just seem kind of important, like I should have known all about you." Really, I'm watching Gohan drink. I'm watching the sarcastic smirk form on his lips, his brows lift and fall when he rolls his eyes, and I'm starting to love every feature on his face. That is the buzzy feeling, that is the sensation in my chest and the feeling of lightness in my head.
Working in close quarters with Gohan will do things with you. He is stuffy and uptight, but he's also charismatic and confident. I can only appreciate his intelligence, and after answering phones for him and getting him coffee all week I look over at him and smile and pretend I didn't know anything about anyone.
"When I left, you were still just teaching." I said, thoughtful. "I didn't know you had... mass appeal."
"That's what politicians do." He said, watching me.
I ignored him, "A politician?" I asked, looking upwards and lacing my fingers together, "And this whole week I thought you were just another guy in a suit working for my mom." I say, leaning forward in a way that makes him flinch.
In a clever second, he catches my wrist and our faces are very, very close. I can smell the sweet scent of the red wine on him when he breathes out, "Fat chance..." Suddenly my lips are on his.
His hands are warm, his suit is crisp, and his shoes are shining like his eyes. He's so pulled-together, he is so very unlike… me. I could really have some fun with this.
I'm waiting for him to tell me to stop, or to push me off, or to react with sputtering incompetence.
I shoot him an award-winning grin, willing him to do something. Gohan had a choice. I could practically see the desire in his eyes as his blood pumped quickly and he put his glass to the side. He leaned forward just slightly, and I realized that he was addressing the driver and not me when he said, "Raise the partition and drive around the park until I tell you to stop." This was Son Gohan's commanding tone, and I wonder if it kind of gets him off because I could see something inside of him in dire need of conquest just like I needed adventure and not tranquility.
He looked over at me with his lips turned upwards and his eyes sparking. Like that, his big, heavy body was on top of mine. Like that, his hands were under my jacket, pulling it over my shoulders. Safe from prying eyes, he took a sip of wine with his left hand, absently trailing the curve of my breast with his free hand. His fingers absentmindedly drift over the cut of the dress.
Gohan examined me over his wine. Then, he set his glass down and leaned in close. Our eyes met. His eyes were beautiful. They're dark and endless. He reaches up to remove his tie, grumbling, "Your mother asked me to help you get it together..."
I cracked a smile. Of course she did. She's very worried about her kids like that. I leaned back, pressing my hips against his and I could feel his desire grow. I can only exhale with hooded eyes, letting my hand move from his knee to his thigh, God, he's a rock, up, over his tumescent erection to his belt.
He's pressing against me, staring down when he says in a husky tone I hardly recognize, "Look at where I've got you now..."
He's so big, but the backseat is spacious and he groans a bit when I push him back against the seat. We watch each other silently for a moment until I'm standing between his legs and he's almost fully reclined. My hands move slowly and I expect him to interrupt me when I unzip his pants and it springs forward. My fingers trail across the head and he's watching my every move intently as his clear, thick secretions pool out and I'm so wet I hardly know what to do with myself.
I lower to my knees, barely breaking eye contact, and I wrap my tongue around my index finger, swallowing the salty discharge and greedily taking more from my middle finger, my little finger, my thumb, Gohan staring at me all the while with patient, growing desire. My hands are back on his member, both of them, stroking him.
I lean into his lap swiftly to tongue the head of his cock, flicking it delicately over his slit, pressing myself against him all the more firmly when he rests his hand heavily on top of my head. He guides it further inside and I suck indulgently and shiver, as he just seems to be end. He sucks in air and says something like, "Keep going..." I can't breathe and it hurts but it feels so good to be held so close, and my nose tickles up against his rough hair, but he's tense, jerking wildly before I feel him flow down my throat and a single, perfect thread of saliva connects my lips to his throbbing organ as it slips out.
I move to get up and straighten my dress, but when I look back over at him he's still breathing hard with shining eyes.
"I'm not through with you," He declares sternly, and I feel his hands grab my hips. He lifts me effortlessly, placing me before him on the seat, still on all fours. He lifts the skirt to my dress, cleanly pulling the flimsy material up to my waist to give himself access. His hands wander under the fabric, groping the curve of my bottom before trailing down roughly to my entrance. His hand slides under my panties to touch bare skin before pulling them down to my knees.
"Gohan!" I gasped, reacting to the electricity charging in his hand as his fingers manipulated me, driving themselves in and out. He's gentle at first but as I bucked against his fingers, I felt his grin. Leaning up, he tugs at the zipper at the nape of my neck down with his teeth, breathing heavily down my back while he pleasured me.
Suddenly, he pulled his hand away and I turned, confused, only to watch him drive his full length into me from behind. I gasped, taken by how filled up I felt. He pressed me down, cheek jammed against the leather seat as he slowly pulled in and out, deliberately moving against me.
"Tell me what you want." His voice is every bit as commanding as it was before, with the driver, and I tilt my head over my shoulder to examine Gohan with shirt unbuttoned and pants half-off. I've never seen him more messy, and all I could possibly express is that I want more.
"You."
"No," he hissed, "Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you," He said, groaning into my hair, shoving his red member against my most sensitive, delicate parts. God, more of this, that's what I want.
There's a pause.
He pulls back and my stomach lurches.
"I want you inside of me," I manage out, barely a rasp, leaning back against him. Now, now, now, I want you now. "I want you to fuck me."
He shuddered and slid himself all the way in, arms wrapped tightly around me, teeth closing in against the nape of my neck. I squirmed against him in a frenzy, feeling the pleasure well from the pit of my stomach. I could feel myself getting so tense all around him, and I relished the warmth of his embrace. "Ahh... you're so tight, Bra-aah," His eyes are closed tightly, focused so hard on all the sensations.
Ah, he's such a pervert.
We had sex in the backseat three times before he finally took me home, dizzy and disoriented with pleasure, drunkenness, and confusion. Recalling his hands on my back and the curves of the muscles I didn't think he still had, I shiver deep into the night. He muttered dirty things into my ear, but his touch wasn't enough. Biting my lower lip I can still smell him and remember the way his hands felt on my thighs when he pulled my skirt up. I recall how quick he is to move me any way he wanted it, and the way that the sweat droplets formed on his chest where he'd unbuttoned the first several buttons and I liked to watch his heavy breathing.
I remember the way his voice sounded when he choked out cries for God, and my name, and very occasionally he would say something like "fuck, this can't be happening" or "this is wrong" but I know he's beyond reprimanding himself even at this point. Arrogant as he can be, I bet Gohan thought that he deserved sex with me as some kind of fun treat for all of his hard work during the campaign. I remember I was thinking one thing.
Let's see how much fun someone so uptight can have.
He thinks back on the whole thing in an hour of darkness:
Panic is setting in. Really, I don't know what it is I've done. I don't know what to do, or what I should say to my wife tomorrow morning, I take a million showers and I don't sleep. Eventually, I plop into a chair with nothing but a towel around my neck.
Okay. Very calmly am I going to try to recount exactly what has been going on in my life since the night of my mother's funeral, the day Bulma Briefs approached me and asked me to look after her little daughter because she was reckless without purpose or activity. Really, I should have known better. How do you say no to Bulma Briefs, though? The better question eventually would become, how do you deal with Bra Briefs?
She's there, in the office, every day. She smiles through her bangs and she walks around like the owns the place, like she's so great.
She smells amazing.
I hire Bra Briefs. Tension mounting, we eventually sleep together. At first she's the most irritating addition to the team, criticizing my suits and "cold demeanor" but when at the last minute she pulled some strings and got me an interview with a very important reporter that went splendidly well, I was already drunk with joy. By the time the polls came in, it was obvious that I'd won, and she had a great part in my success. She's lucky, she's a lucky girl. I saw her in a different way and sure, it was invigorating, but it doesn't take long for the guilt to set in. I tell her that I love my wife and it can't happen again. But first I have to catch her.
God, those stilettos. How does she even do it? It's a busy street and a dreary day. I don't remember what meeting we left, but I know she rushed out of the room and I had to rush past a crowd of very demanding people to get to the girl before she got to other people and started talking about certain indescretions.
"Would you just get back here?" I hissed, "Bra," I called her name but she didn't look back. Of course she wouldn't, she's ridiculously difficult when she wants to be. "Bra, I'm faster than you!"
At that she whips around to shoot me a very nasty glare. It's comical, even adorable, and the best part is that she really is trying to be angry with me. "What do you want?"
Cars whizz past us. The street is busy and vibrant, and yet we always seem stuck when we're together. Other things fall away. The rest of the scene fades away and I follow the little woman winding from crosswalk to streetcorner. We're getting further away from the office, and the further away we are, the more anxious I feel.
"Hey, there!" I raised my voice without really intending to, "I'm your boss! There are a lot of things I want from you."
She rolls her eyes and turns, flipping her hair in my face. "Yeah, I bet."
"Look, how long are you going to keep avoiding me?" I ask, not entirely defeated.
"How am I avoiding you?" Bra crossed her arms around her chest, "I'm sorry, you're off with your family and your career, and we live two very separate lives. There is nothing to avoid."
"Bra," I say, looking around, "Look, can we go somewhere private and talk, please?" But I can't really handle her being difficult, so even though I know she's going to temporarily get angrier, I grab her wrist and suddenly we're in the air, and I'm taking her somewhere quiet, and alone. I can breathe clearly again, I can hear myself think.
These days when I touch Bra's hand I immediately remember the night we spent together. Our bodies crushed together does not really help. I feel my desire intensify and she sends a knowing gaze down her thigh. I'm trying to push my attraction aside, either way, and true to my prediction, Bra Briefs screeches and tenses in my arms, "Really!"
I tilt my head and press my lips against her ear. Her hair smells sweet. It's not shocking, it just brings a weird swell to my chest. "I just want some privacy."
We woosh through the air. She held on to me tightly. Didn't Vegeta train her? I trained Pan. Sort of. Dad trained Pan, until he left again.
I made it quick, hoping that Bra quiets down as she rushes to take her shoes into her hands. She stands there, barefoot and trembling with a single hand on her hip and she's about to start shouting, "Gohan! What did you do that for? If you wanted to be somewhere alone, we can just take a car like normal people! Also, is this really what you call a place to be alone?" She gestures around herself. The scene has changed as I let her go in a peaceful little clearing in the forest. "The middle of the-what is this? Are we in the woods outside of your old house?" She asks, gesturing around.
"Bra, calm down," I say with a laugh. I turn, and before I think to stop myself, I press a finger against her lips: "It's not private if you raise your voice." I need her to keep her voice time just in case somebody finds out.
Grudgingly, she follows me along a narrow dirt path. I'm pretty impressed that she makes her way along the uneven path well with her heels, avoiding the thick tree roots cropping up in and out of the earth. I hear the trickling of water just a bit off and finally, we come to a small stream that divides the wooded area. Birds splash around in the rocky banks, and I sit on a rock by the river. She stares at me. "It's…" She trails off, looking at the rock and then back to me. Somehow, this is pretty comical as well. Truly, she has no concept of what it is to be outside. Her parents have completely and entirely spoiled her. She's a princess. It's dreadfully attractive.
"Bra, how often do you go outside?" I ask, grinning. Not often. I pat the seat next to me.
Rolling her eyes she moved to sit near me, but she was sure to keep her distance. "So really, what is it?"
"Bra, I really think we should talk about this."
"What?"
"The night we had sex, Bra." I said, rubbing my neck. I'm nervous to say it, but I feel worse that the words have to linger in the air for a few moments before she responds.
"Yeah, about that," Bra says, shaking her head. "Look, if you want to do it again that's fine, but really I don't know if there's anything to say about that."
I open and close my eyes, staring hard at her. "Bra, I love my wife very much. It was just a one-time deal, okay? I don't mind seeing you around sometimes if you want, but other than that… maybe it would be a good idea if Bulma gets you moved over to somewhere else."
"Okay." She said with a shrug. "Just don't tell my dad I slept with you, he'll probably be pretty pissed."
In retrospect, I feel like I should have known at the time that something was wrong with a girl who can spend a night with someone and then shrug it off. She wasn't cold or indifferent, she was just so painfully casual about the whole thing, like the act of ruining my life meant nothing to her. I kind of wanted to tell her that I was sorry, or explain how it was a mistake, but she was so apathetic, so nonchalant that it was hard to convey to her my regret. Did she even recognize that what we'd done was wrong? How could she not even care that our bodies touched so perfectly?
I'm not a bad man. I promise I'm not a bad man; I just gave in one night when I had a little too much to drink. Bra Briefs has no appeal to me. I love my wife and my daughter and engaging in this behavior would hurt them. What would my mother think?
What is even happening to me?
When I offered to fly Bra back to the city, she scoffed, and levitated.
I swallowed. Why does that turn me on?
"You think I'm just some weak human?" She scoffed, sneering down at me. "You can't even keep your shit on lock." She tosses her hair over her shoulder, "How lame."
In a gentle, perfect arc she floated over the horizon above the pink and purple clouds bordering a setting sun. Speckles of light punctuate her silhouette and briefly, I wonder when she learned to levitate.
She says:
"Bra," Goten says, wrapping an arm around me, "Look, I know you feel weird that you're telling me this, but you've got to understand that I've heard things way more screwed up in my day." It's true, Goten and Trunks' childhood was pretty messed up. Not as bad as Dad's, or as weird as Mom's, but still, lots of death and weirdness. I've been crying on my bed for a while now, and Goten seems to be the only one to get me to stop.
Despite myself, I smile at Goten through my tears. "I'm sorry. I know he's your family and-"
"Bra, you're my family too. And I've got to tell you," he says kindly, "the other woman never gets the man in the end."
I feel like I understand this. My tears understand this. I don't understand how he can be so callous and kind and sweet all at once. It's not really so much that I ever really liked Gohan as the fact that he thought he could just brush me off to the side. And still, I feel my anger flare.
I swear on my father's name, I will not only get Gohan, but I'll make him suffer too. I'll destroy him from the inside out and make him wish he never met me. He can keep his stupid wife and perfect family, but not without paying for the way he made me feel that day, when he told me it meant nothing to him and he'd like to go back to being a great guy, thank you very much.
Well, we don't always get what we want.
"Goten," I say, crossing my arms over my chest, after wiping my face with the back of my hand. "What if I don't want to get him in the end, anymore? What would you say?"
My brother's boyfriend raised a brow. "How do you mean?"
"Well, I think we can help each other out. You're keeping your present relationship private, aren't you?"
"Yeah, so what? That doesn't mean that I want to engage in this nonsense." Goten asks, raising a brow. "Bra… if you're going to suggest that we-"
"I don't see why we can't." I smile, "What if we pretend to go out? You get privacy and I get to-"
"Mess with my big brother's marriage? I think not." Goten said.
"Come on now, Goten, how much do you really care about Gohan's marriage to Videl?" I rested a hand on my chin.
"I've known Videl since she and Gohan were high school sweethearts. She's a very nice lady, you know." Goten scratched his head, "This seems like a really bad idea, Bra."
"But it'll be fun. We can pretend to be such a cute couple!" I wiggled my fingers at him. Goten rolled his eyes.
Goten pauses for a minute. "Okay, here's a question, then: why do I think it's fun to help you hurt my brother?"
"You don't," I said, looking over at him and taking his hand in mine, "but you don't control Gohan's reactions or his emotions. Just focus on what you're getting out of this, and leave everything else to me."
Goten shook his head, "Bra, you can't just try to push people along like pawns. You know Gohan's eventually going to figure out that you're just trying to get his attention, and he'll never forgive you. He'll be pretty mad at me, too, if he finds out that you're just trying to make him jealous, which I doubt would work- he's just not like that. He's a pretty cool-headed guy."
"By that time, he'll have given me what I need."
"What's that?" Goten asks me, raising a brow.
"I just want to make him feel what he made me feel. Is that so wrong, Goten?"
Goten sucks in air. The room is filled with smoke and liquor, and the ideas get worser and worser at each passing moment. I pass the pipe to him. With a cocked brow, he accepts the offering.
"Please?"
"You want..." He said it, slowly, tapping on the table, "to exploit the very slight romantic chemistry that we sort of had, just to see if you can get a rise out of Gohan."
I nod.
"And how do you expect me to explain this to Trunks?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Just tell him that, you know, since he's having such a hard time committing to just one person, maybe you could see what your options are." I shrug. "Trunks will understand, Trunks is cool."
Goten frowns. "You're so warped."
"No, this is totally normal. This is a perfectly normal reaction to everything, really." I say it with feigned conviction, and Goten just laughs.
"I'm going to do it, but I'm going to do it because I'm going to laugh when you fall flat on your face in public because Gohan isn't going to care who you're dating, he's just going to be glad that you're not a threat to his family anymore."
I must admit, my morale sinks a little at that one. Sourly, I take a drink. "Better make sure you start rehearsing whatever it is you're going to say to Trunks."
He thinks:
She says she understands, but when she brings a familiar face to my next function I come to find that I'm not as alright with her belonging to anyone else as I thought I was...
I'm not really the jealous sort, but when I see her walk in with my brother on her arm and the way that she looks over at him adoringly, it's very, very hard to keep a straight face and I notice that my collar's just gotten tight. My mind has immediately cast itself back to a night where she trailed her tongue down my cheek and gripped my hips, tilting her head back occasionally to cry out my name in flawless passion. I remember the little beads of sweat that rocked on her brow to the beat of our movement. I am overwhelmed with this. I'm not jealous, I just think it's stupid that she's with him when I know she's crazy about me.
"Gohan!" Videl says, taking my arm, "What's wrong with you?"
Do not engage in this. Let it go. It's fine. Just let it go.
"Uh, did you know Bra and Goten were together?" I asked despite myself.
"Your brother's kind of a playboy, Gohan. Also, what if they've just come together as friends? I thought you liked Bra a little more these days, anyway?" My stomach lurches at the conversation with my wife. Why doesn't she know to hate Bura?
I put a hand on her shoulder without responding, "Videl, I'll be right back."
"Hey, you guys." I say, smile placed on my lips, "I'm so glad you guys could come-together."
Goten looks at Bra, and then back at me and he gives me something like a smile. His hand's pretty complacent on her waist and he knows that I'm looking at it. "We're glad to be here supporting you, Gohan."
Bra Briefs smiles at me like nothing's wrong at all and I want to tell Goten that she's wicked. "Well, do you want to get me a drink, Goten?" She asks. He takes his leave almost immediately with a little possessive squeeze of her shoulder I don't miss. Great, she's going to break his heart because she's on the rebound.
I hate them together. This has got to stop. I cleared my throat. She was waiting.
"Bra," I say, looking in any other direction but hers, "I'm not really one for parties, and since you're here... do you think we could go over some stuff for my next public speech?"
"Oh, I don't know." Bra says, putting a hand on her hip, "How's your family going to feel about you skipping out to do more work when tonight's a party and you should be enjoying yourself?"
She sees me flinch and she smiles at me, "Then, a dance." Before she can protest I'm leading her away from her drink and her Goten and we're moving our bodies in time in a way that I was not exactly hoping for.
Oh, it hurts, and she is so beautiful.
"So, are you having the time of your life?" Bra asks. She drops the charade.
It's not the body or the charm, or the stupid lip gloss.
I don't... know what it is, or why I love the low voice she speaks in when she talks to me.
"It always seems to get livelier with you running in and out. I'm serious, I do want you to work with me again. I like your eye."
"I'm sorry, Gohan," She murmurs in my ear. "But I have a feeling that you don't exactly just want me to come and work for you because of my eye. You're kind of a hater, anyway."
"A what?"
She laughs, genuinely amused, and I can barely handle myself right now. Proximity is really driving me mad. Goten's gone off, and Bra grins. "Look, you've distracted my date now."
"Is that a problem?" I ask, cocking my head to the side. "Is my company so awful?" God, my lips are so close to the side of her face and there are a million people here and the thrill creates an energy inside of me like I haven't known for forever.
Bra looks over at me, and I feel her lips on my ear when she leans in close, pressing her body against mine, "No offense, but you're just kind of too high strung for me and I found someone who's as cute as you are, but fun like me."
You have no idea what those words do to me.
We keep dancing anyway, like old friends would, but all I can do is think about how much I want to pull her away from this place and get Goten's scent out of her hair. I even make lame robotic dance moves, which disgust her, because we've got roles to play here, but her curves are burned into my memory and I want her.
I'm not a good girl
Vomit.
You know, I'm kind of in one of those out-of-body moments where I can see myself, lurched over the waste basket in the bathroom of some fast food joint. I hate throwing up.
Was it the alcohol? The girl in the one and only stall (the one that beat me to the bathroom) is also throwing up but her friend is with her in there holding her hair back as she tries to stand still enough to not get bile on her dress and bag or shoes.
Her shoes were pretty cute.
It couldn't have been the alcohol, I only had one beer. It was a good beer too, and I don't typically care to drink beer. I wash my mouth in the sink and run cold water over my cheeks. I feel awful and dizzy and I haven't been able to eat all day. I'm bringing this upon myself, I know.
I just want tonight to be over. How do you make time pass more quickly?
I have to get cleaned up because tonight my parents are having a dinner. It's Pan's parents' anniversary and we're all so very happy about it. I wipe my mouth again, still my eyes feel heavy and I don't quite feel well at all. We've been up to it for weeks now, and each time a function comes up, Goten holds me gently until I break away, and after a few glances with Gohan, we end up in all of the same little corners of the world.
I smile at him, and with my hand still on Gohan's arm I lean in and kiss my date. Goten smiles at me, touches my cheek and runs off to go play with Trunks. My dearest friend and ally, you're a weirdo.
We sit down to eat, and my mother and father seem relieved that I've made it on time and am eating silently across from Son Gohan. Videl sits next to him, stunning in a pastel dress. At first he says little if anything, but soon his wife encourages him to speak. With his face still red, he begins speaking slowly about something entirely unappealing to me. He thanks people for coming. He tells us the story of how he proposed to her. He calls her things like "the love of my life" and "my soul mate", careful to never even look in my direction. I feel something sort of cold and heavy in my belly, but I paint the same expressionless look on my face that I held the day this horrible mess all began.
He sits down and everyone resumes their chatter. Eventually, he comes to our table, just for the show of it, to shake my mother's hand and nod at my father.
I get a wicked thought and inwardly smile as my foot outstretches. At first, he visibly flinches to feel my foot running up and down the side of his leg as his wife looks over at him, wide-eyed with surprise and confusion at his jumping. Did you marry her because she was this naïve, or was it just a convenience? I thought they said Videl was the first human girl to truly understand that Gohan was a Saiya-Jin. I thought they said that she was the one to match him in inner strength and focus, in purity and goodness. I feel a wave of disgust.
Why did you cash in so early?
Gohan puts just a little bit of weight on my ankle with his other foot, just enough for it to hurt. This is something of a warning and lightly I begin to laugh. Everyone looks over to me, and my mother shoots me a dirty look like I've done something taboo and inappropriate.
I have.
"I'm going to the bathroom." I say to them all, standing abruptly, and watching Gohan out of the corner of my eye. He can't say anything more and already I'm gone.
I waited in the stall for a few moments before I hear his heels clicking down the hall. He's wordless when he locks the door behind himself, and almost clinically he takes off his suit jacket and he loosens his tie. His eyes are black when he presses the bathroom door open and enters without a word. His face is stony and concentrated on me and nothing but. Already his hands are on my hips and his lips are hot on my neck.
"Why, Mr. Son, this is so inappropriate-" I say with a look mocking surprise.
"Shut up," He says very softly, like he hadn't even said it at all, and he's lifted me and pressed me against the wall of the bathroom stall. I grin at him and he's already darting his fingers between my legs. His fingers stretch out to push the patch of fabric between us just out of his way, and his hand dives in and out of my waiting sex.
I find myself obsessed with his thick, black belt. I'm writhing hot against his body, gripping at it and just waiting for him to say that we can start having fun. The leather is sleek and smooth and he almost growls at me as I touch him with my fingertips, "Get on with it! We don't have a lot of time."
I've slipped his belt from his pants and I'm tying his hands as tightly above his head as I can. "You're serious?" He asks, raising a brow, "I can just-"
"I want you to fuck me without using your hands." I say sternly. I raise my dress above my shoulders and then head. It falls silently to the floor, forgotten and dirty and ignored. I bite my lip and look straight in his clouded obsidian orbs. "You'll have to look at me the whole time but you can't touch me." He growls, but obliges, sucking on my nipples.
My heels crush against his sides and we groan together.
He's inside of me until he explodes, it's quick and crammed, and as I pull my clothes back on, I say, "Tell Mrs. Son happy anniversary for me." I grin at him with a wink as I slip out the back. I never came back to the table, and Gohan said he didn't see me after I left. My dad was the only one who asked where I was. I was gone, drunk and high off of the feeling of our bodies touching, not unaware of the pain that would inevitably follow.
He says:
The next day I am furious.
I'm out with my wife on a day that's supposed to appreciate all that Videl and I have been through together, and Bra has decided to go out with someone else.
God, do you know what happened when I took Videl home? She was so beautiful in a little nightgown, and it was blue and it matched her eyes and all I could think about was you- about what I have done with you and in the process of which thing I have broken everything that I swore to keep perfect. When I made love to my wife, I just felt the gaping hole that was Bra's absence and guilt swelling up from my chest to my throat. Worse than the threat of death, the fear of hurting the one who means the most consumes a guilty lover.
Even still...
"You didn't have to try to make a point in front of everyone, like that!"
"I didn't not have to, either," she said, barely looking up.
"Double negatives are grammatically in-"
"I followed her. I followed her to the stupid coffee shop that she gets her stupid hazelnut lattes at and while she was playing on her phone, I took the seat opposite her. She did not seem surprised.
"You were sitting next to Goten!" I hissed, "And on the other side, your mother!" I shook my head, "You can't just-"
"What, you worried that Goten's going to get all jealous?" She asked, cocking a brow up at me.
There's a pregnant pause, because I can't remember what I was going to say.
"Why are you seeing him, anyway?" I snapped. I hate Bra's games, and how catty she is, the lies and manipulations, and how she dodges questions and tries to blame everything on everyone but herself, when in reality most if not all of this is her fault.
"I did it to hurt you." She says very plainly. "Because now you have to sit around wondering if you've been one-upped or not in bed by your own little brother, and because now you get to think about how much you loved him, and how much you want me, and how now you don't know what to do because you can't choose who to hate more out of the three of us."
"The three of us?" I ask, but she laughs at the bewilderment in my voice.
"You, me, and Goten, of course," she says it with a smile on her face. She looks so satisfied; I wonder exactly how she's getting rewarded out of all of this. My temper is flaring and along with it all I'm starting to focus on how much I want to have her entirely, again.
"Bra, I hate all of us." That's true. I look down at her face. She's got the most amazing features. I sigh. "Look. I think that to make things seem less suspicious, you need to come back as my personal assistant, and you should dump Goten."
She raises a brow. "That's a very convenient idea."
"We keep... ending up around each other, anyway," I add, flushing. This makes total sense, please believe me.
"You really want me to come back and work with you after all of this?" Bra asks, hand on her hip, "You just got done yelling at me because you didn't have enough decency to keep it in your pants on the night of your anniversary and now you're offering me a job? How likely!"
"Are you going to do it or not?" I snap, narrowing my eyes. I've just got to... make some sense of this all.
She rolls her eyes, grabbing the coffee cup and setting it away in the waste bin. I stand and follow her. A few people notice us and there are hesitant waves, but I make it out fairly unscathed before she whips around to stare at me.
"What exactly are you doing here?"
"I was looking for you, because we have got to talk about how these things... keep... happening."
Bra raises a brow, "So seeking me out is somehow going to make it happen less?"
She digs around in her purse and pulls out the Dyno-Cap to her car. The cerulean vehicle appears out of a puff of air, and Bra pulls her sunglasses from the top of her head down over her eyes.
I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore, but it's going to look really weird if I'm spending all of this time with Bra and we're not working together. Regardless of whether or not we keep having sex, which I will try to get under control, I want to keep her close.
She moves towards the car to open the door, and I push it closed.
Bra watches me, and she's forced to step back when I put my hands on her waist and step closer to her until she's backed up against the car's door. She unlocks it and nods for me to get in. I'd ask where she's going, but I already know. It's a Saturday afternoon and we arrive at my office within about five minutes. The stilted silence builds.
The door to my office nearly bursts down when we, clawing at each other like rabid creatures, seek shelter from prying eyes. Her teeth nibble my lower lip. I grab her ass and pull her against my body. I don't even think we like each other, we just can't get off of each other. I can only wait for the day that we've had enough of each other. She's pinned between me and my personal library. How do those books feel pressed up against your back, Bra? You seem to have done it everywhere. With anxious fingers, articles of clothing are plucked away and her legs wrap around my waist.
I grabbed her by her hips, pulling them up just over my growing shaft. Oh, it felt so nice. Just the furious rubbing of my body against hers created a friction which felt like such sweet torture. I just want Bura to open her gorgeous mouth again so I can kiss her into silence and let my tongue explore hers, and the inside of her mouth, and I can shiver while I squeeze the warm flesh of her breasts.
I wish there were a way to make you mine.
"But think about how much time we'll be spending together, we'll really be forced to get over this attraction of ours..." I say this like it's the logical thing to believe, I'm murmuring it against her body and she's not paying attention at all. We're about to enter a sick cycle downwards where we have sex, fight about my work, she leaves, someone comes crawling back, someone brings up Videl, and then we have sex again. She's practically purring against my chest. I lower my lips to her ear, and murmur, "I just want to make you scream..."
I cannot tell you how many times Bra's been hired, fired, and quit as my personal assistant, and never once did my wife ask me why, or to look her in the eyes and say that our relationship was anything but professional.
It started with a Lady:
He's taken to drinking more and more, progressively of course and but this is the first time that I actually have to pull him away from public spaces. By the end of his term, that number will have increased significantly. My long coat flickers in the wind as I pushed him in the car. I quit earlier that day after a little argument about nothing, but still I'm so dutiful to him when I see he's about to make an ass of himself in public.
I care entirely too much. I should let him make a fool of himself. It would serve him right, to go and ruin his career over me. Still, I grab his shoulder and he looks back over at me and immediately without a word he's following me out. His eyes dart down to my short black dress, and a grin plays on his lips but only I see it and tomorrow he'll be glad for it.
"There's nothing to see here, people." Gohan is so drunk that he can barely move. I pick him up and help him into the car. "Drive," I say, and off we go.
He looks at me and he sort of smiles. "You came back."
I say nothing to him; I just hold his head up as we drive and help him up a few flights of stairs until we practically pour through the door. Soon he's collapsed on my bed, and I bet he doesn't even know where we are.
He'll be shouting tomorrow that I brought him back to my place for the evening to clean him up, and not to his wife's, but what do I care about Son Gohan anyway?
"Mister Son, you're a terrible person," I say very carefully, and then I kick him in the back from behind as he tries to get up such that he falls back over. Just a slight print from my shoe shows up on his perfect white shirt and I smile.
He sort of coughs a little bit but eventually he manages to gather himself to his feet. "You're going to regret doing that." He says, eyes dancing at me. His fingers are already brushing against my dangling ankle, moving over the straps of my stilettos, "You know, these can be kind of dangerous."
His fingers are warm and his hand is huge over my leg and for a second he looks like he's about to remove them, but he leaves them on, groaning from the drunkenness, and instead, he trails his hand up my calf to my knee. "Where are we?"
"This is my condo." I say, "I'm going to take care of you tonight, Mister Son."
He smiles at me almost broadly, like those were the words he was expecting to hear me say it. He relaxes slightly before pulling me down against him with a wicked grin and lust gleaming in his eyes.
The phone rings and he makes his body heavier in my lap so that I can't get up when I try.
He pins me down, I couldn't get up even if I wanted to, and I love the way that he feels on top of me so much that I'm barely even resisting. "It could be this guy…" I trail off.
Gohan frowns. "What happened to Goten?"
"I date, Gohan," I said sternly. "Come on, get up."
He yawns, readjusting himself and lacing his fingers behind his head. "You're with me right now." He says, "And nothing's going to change that."
For the record, he told me to leave my shoes on and told his wife that he got scratched training with his brother when she saw the scratch marks on his body. Guilty as sin, we're starting to mark each other. He pulls my hair and bites my shoulder and I just want him to keep doing it, to keep pushing me down onto all fours and having his way with me.
And then the men:
She's pulled my head into her lap and her long, crimson nails are running over my forehead, brushing her cool hand over the sweat. Since Bra came back to work for me, she's really taken good care of me.
I'm just trying to focus on a few of the sensations I'm suddenly very aware of: your hand stroking my brow, my head in your warm little lap. What is that smell? It's sweet and exotic and faint, but everywhere. It's kind of like you. I move my head in your lap to grip your knee and I savor your fishnets between my fingertips.
"You're a terrible person, you know." She says, slowly, shaking her head at me. "The worst sort. You pretend you're really good and honest, Gohan, but you're not. That's what makes it so bad, because you're such a liar. And everyone believes you and expects you to be so good and pure all day every day, kind of like a trained monkey. It's got to be really hard to be you."
Trained monkey, huh?
I sighed, my eyes opening and closing just slightly. I shift against her just slightly to give her more access and she laughs. The smell of her perfume lingers in the air. "The suffering I must endure..." Her hand lightly rests on my groin, and I shift my hips under her grasp, hissing at the delicious friction.
"What about me?" Bra asks, looking down at me. I feel her lips touch mine very lightly, and her tongue rests on my bottom lip for half a second. "All I've ever done is help you, Gohan."
I laughed at the idea of this, "You know, before you started working for me-"
"Which time?"
"The first time, I used to think you were horribly spoiled and… unmanageable."
"And now?" Bra asks, laugh ready on her lips. Her hand brushing through my hair, over and over, I just want to flip her over and crush her under my body. It's lulling me, and every part of me feels heavy and adored, even under the playful look in her eyes.
I see Bra's body in fragments like we live together in a dream world. I see her feet in strappy heels, her long legs, short skirts or shorts, her bust, her neck, her face.
Months have passed and I am still musing:
I always feel your arms around me in my chair, slithering about me as I'm reading. I call your name slowly but it sounds more like a purr than a warning because I've been waiting for you to come distract me for a while even if I can't admit it out loud. These are the times when I'm working at home in my study and Videl is often in the next room. She doesn't think a thing of it because she loves me and trusts me while I feel your body pressed against mine, and I take in your scent as I intently attend to the way your lips feel pressed up against my cheek.
I'm always flooded with these images of you crawling into my lap, pushing my books to the side or throwing them on my desk.
These moments are isolated, but they're all running around through my head until I want more so badly I'm dying from the inside out.
Now I'm rolling around in my bed unable to think about anything but her. My belly swells. It's there, inside of me, and all I want is more.
I can still feel her heels poking into my back, "Gohan, how does it feel to be treated like a toy?" I can feel the tone of her voice, and I savor the moments that we have together.
I feel the wrinkles in my face, and I know that I have gotten older. She makes reference to this, tells me she's getting bored, but I think that this is just a kind of warped game to her and at this point she just says things to get a reaction.
I'm imagining Bra in the bathroom, I can still practically hear her haggard breathing and little moans and the sounds are echoing through my head until I feel like I've gone mad. I shift my hips around uncomfortably, and still I know no relief. The cure for the itch is you, and every time I walk away from you I swear it's the last time.
She's a Jezebel, and if I want to stay out of Hell, I've got to keep her out of my head. I'm not supposed to feel this way about you, but no matter what I do I keep getting the feeling that I'm falling when I look at her. I can't really handle this, I have so much to lose, but no matter how many times I tell myself to stay away, we keep finding weirder and weirder ways to run into each other.
How many evenings have I touched myself or taken my wife, groaning to thoughts of pushing Bra down across my desk, orgasming all over her beautiful chest, or maybe having her on all fours on my office floor.
It's not that I want to call it fate or anything, at least not with Videl in the next room. She's brushing her teeth and I'm sitting on my side of the bed, facing the opposite direction, looking at myself through the glass of the window as I hold my wedding ring between my fingers, breathing heavy and thinking about someone else. What am I supposed to do now?
I'm tasting my lips over hers, and my wife is in the next room.
That evening, I've taken three showers and still I feel guilt when I look at my wife. "Gohan," She calls my name with a little smile, "You seem so distant these days, really, you ought to tell me what's going on with you. Don't be such a stranger. You've been... different ever since your mom passed away." She says with a little smile on her face as she finds her way onto the bed next to me. "I am, after all, your wife."
My career would be over if anyone found out exactly how close I am to Bra Briefs. Videl slips into a quick sleep and I'm picking up my phone, ready to find an excuse to see her so that she can suggest a place, black and shady for us to meet. It seems fitting, it seems like the proper place for such depraved acts to take place, and yet I'm going mad because it's as if she's my only solace.
I'm picking up the phone. "Hey, I had an idea for the next fundraiser. We need to talk about it tonight."
Her voice comes out bored and sweet from the other end of the line, "Can't you just say you want to fuck me, Gohan?"
"I'll have someone pick you up in twenty minutes."
"What if I'm with someone?"
A shudder.
In a harsh tone that I barely recognize, I say, "Leave him."
Click.
I'm not a bad man:
(But look at those legs.)
-GB