Janet was discharged from hospital wearing a thrift store dress that someone had been sent to buy. She had been admitted wearing only underwear.
Wearing Frank's leather jacket over this new dress, she walked out of the hospital, ankles wavering slightly in the black stilettos that she'd last worn drugged and dancing to an empty theatre. She felt alone. Three months ago she'd had a happy, normal life. Three months. Would it just be easier to forget everything and go with Brad?
Brad followed her out of the hospital.
"Janet?"
"Yes, Brad?"
Janet folded her arms across her chest. She felt lost, and sort of drunk. Normality was rushing to meet her and it made her dizzy.
"Want to get dinner?"
Brad wasn't wearing his glasses. His face looked thin and haggard. She noticed a new lightness, a new self-awareness in the way that he moved. Frank had made him aware. Sex was all around them now. Janet shrugged. Brad was the only other one that understood- Dr Scott wasn't taking their calls.
"I was thinking you could go back to college. Finish the last year. I spoke to the Dean and they said that nervous breakdowns happen all the time."
"Is that what this is? A nervous breakdown?"
"Dammit, Janet, I don't know! I just know we both spent two days in an alien house and nothing has been the same since."
"It can't be the same now, Brad! After what you did to me, how can I ever trust you again?"
"What I did to you?" Brad reached to take off his glasses in his rage and looked a little puzzled when they weren't there, "I wasn't the only one who made love with Frank, goddammit! And I didn't go after that blond... beefcake!"
Scandalized faces turned around to look at them; they both looked at their hands until their observers returned to their own conversations. Janet clutched her coffee mug hard and still couldn't look up.
"Brad, I'm just so lost and frightened. I want things to be how they were."
"I do too Janet!" he said, pulling her hands to him and looking manfully into her eyes. She could see he didn't mean it, that he was slipping into the persona he had lived in before. She pulled her hands back and looked down.
"I don't think it can. Too much has happened."
Brad gave her a lift home. Her own little apartment near campus: the coffee cup she'd used before she dashed out to Brad's car for Betty Monroe's wedding; all her demure dresses with their high collars; and low hemlines; the picture of her and Brad together. She slammed it face down and went to shower. Frank wouldn't wash away. Not under hospital water, and not under the shower head in her own flat. Frank and Rocky. It wasn't that she hated the memories, they were just stark against the background- so different to everything she thought she was, and now, well...who did that make her?
Janet's wardrobe was wrong now, but she looked though it for something appropriate and headed to town. It took her three tries to find a suitable bar, four drinks to find a suitable man and five minutes to invite him back to hers. He pawed at her breast, too rough in the wrong places; he ploughed into her brutally, unrelenting as a piston. There was enough pleasure that she could lose herself in it, but it was too rough, too inexpert and she wasn't in control of it. Rather like life, she thought later, as she tried to wash this new nameless stranger off her body and fit him in her mind with Frank and Rocky. It helped. At least it was normal, it was real.
The phone rang the next day; Brad sounded sheepish and lost.
"Hey, Janet. I was wondering if you'd like to go see a movie or something."
Brad hadn't sounded that bashful since before they'd started dating. Once he knew he had her, Brad became forceful and controlling. She'd liked that, but she'd always have a soft spot for the sweet, yielding boy that Brad had been when she first knew him.
"I don't know, Brad. I mean, I think I need some space."
"It's just a movie, dammit!"
"Don't shout at me, Brad!"
They both breathed heavily at their respective ends of the phone, regaining their frayed tempers. Janet ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
"I don't know who I am anymore, Brad, and I don't know who you are either."
"I don't know who I am either, but I knew when I was with you" said Brad, softly.
"Perhaps you should figure it out," said Janet, not as tartly as she wished she had. Brad hung up and then Janet did.
Janet felt like a cheap slut in her old clothes. She wandered around looking prim and proper, her mind roaring thoughts of sex into her brain. When she wore low cut tops and tight skirts- things that made the women of the town tut and turn away from her in the street, she felt at home with herself. The blatant sensuality of the clothing felt like her. When her whole body screamed of sex, her mind didn't.
"SLUT!" called the builders as she passed
"SLUT!" shouted the girls in the red lipstick that hung around outside the cafe on the corner.
Janet barely felt any of it. She was in a world of her own, a world that was crying out for touch, for raking fingers and salt on her tongue. She headed to a bar. The bar tender looked like the kind of kid who'd dropped out of school to cause trouble; the type that took their lives in their hands, out in the rain; the type that would take a girl to bed without respecting her. The type that wouldn't pull off their glasses and exclaim "JANET!" whenever their petting moved towards being even slightly heavy.
"Hey, what can I get for you, baby?"
Baby, not 'Miss' or 'Sweetheart'. Janet shrugged and put down ten bucks.
"Just keep something coming."
"Woah, lady, you sure you're alright? It's five o'clock in the afternoon."
Janet tossed her hair and let him see the slenderness of her throat, the fragility of her face, her stained inviting lips. She posed subtly until she saw him start to see her as something threatening, when his eyes retreated a little, she caught him playfully in the eye.
"Don't I look alright?"
"You look fine, honey." he said reassuringly rather than appreciatively. A gentle rebuff, but enough that Janet's smile was sheepish when she took the glass of liquor from him. She drunk it as he dried the glasses. He sat down behind the counter after he slid her second drink across to her.
"So, I'm a bartender, It's kind of my job to listen to problems. You wanna tell them?"
Janet smiled, embarrassed, and toyed with the ice-cubes in the glass. She shrugged and took a swallow.
"It's a long story."
The bar tender laughed and put the glass he was drying on the rack above the bar.
"Lemme guess,"
Janet arranged herself ready to listen.
"There was a guy, he promised to marry you, he said he'd love you forever, you put out, he dumped you and now you don't feel right."
"Not quite."
"But I'm at least half right? Don't take it wrong, but chicks who come to bars looking for a good time usually have problems."
Janet felt a bit cold inside. He wasn't right. Nobody would ever say 'Lemme guess, you and your fiancé were both seduced by an transvestite, you fucked a science experiment, took part in an orgy in front of your professor and were left in a field in your underwear by incestuous aliens.', but the gist was probably emotionally accurate. Janet didn't want to talk anymore. She just wanted someone to fuck her till the she stopped wanting to scream till the universe burned. Until her roars of fury and violation reached Transexual in the galaxy of Transylvania, wherever that was.
"You sure you're ok, kid? You've gone really pale."
"I'm just gonna take this and sit somewhere else."
Janet knew that he had started to pity her. Fuck him. Just fuck him. Janet went home with a frat boy from the college. He recognised her as 'the chick that was dating the asshole with the glasses' and sneered a little when he talked about how she used to dress. His breath stank of beer and sometimes he could barely suppress his belches. He fucked with an irregular rhythm, having to stop to rest every few minutes. He lasted about ten minutes before Janet kicked him off her in frustration and mounted him instead. He looked up at her bleary eyed, and she looked to the ceiling, riding him till every thrust was enough to knock the thoughts out of her mind. She felt him join in the rhythm, she felt him grab her thighs, she heard him start moaning, and she held on tighter until she felt him begin to convulse inside her.
"Wow, you're some wildcat!"
Janet climbed off him and put her bathrobe on.
"I'm going to get a shower; let yourself out."
It was two months and forty three men before Brad called again. He had pierced his ear and he was wearing a leather jacket like Frank's. He actually met her eyes and smiled at her with confidence. It warmed Janet in a place that had been cold since they'd left the Frankenstein place.
"Hello, Janet."
"Brad."
"How's it going Janet? I've been thinking about you."
Brad pushed his glasses on, making him look like Brad again. Janet took her coffee from the disapproving looking waitress and Brad took his stack of pancakes and coffee.
"I'm doing okay," Janet nodded as if to confirm her own statement.
"I've got something to say," burst Brad, looking flustered "Since Frank, I've been looking for...something, and I'm not sure if I've found it, but... there have been another couple of guys."
Janet nodded and shrugged. It would never have just been Frank or anything like that. You could be tricked once, but you couldn't be tricked all night. She knew that all too well.
"I had to make sense of it," she said, the words coming out more passionately than she intended, "Other guys help me with that to, so it's me, not just Frank and Rocky."
She noticed Brad winced at a mention of Rocky. Janet rubbed his hand reassuringly and he smiled. Lukewarm human contact was also a balm. It had been so long since she'd touched someone in a way that wasn't both red hot and ice cold. Brad seemed to relax a little with it.
"So, is it guys for you now, Brad?"
"Dammit, Janet, I don't know. Seems likely."
"How do you think that'll go down at the Junior Chamber of Commerce?"
Brad gave a wry smile and took a sip of his coffee.
"Can I give you a ride home?"
They pulled up in Brad's car, outside her apartment.
"Janet," said Brad, forcefully, as though he'd made a decision, "I think we should make love."
"Why, Brad?"
"We've only ever kissed before, Janet, and we were engaged. It feels like...something we should have done years ago."
"I'm mad." Janet muttered to herself as she let Brad sweep her up into a deep embrace that melted them together onto the bed.
Brad was gentle, worshipful. He kissed like Frank, and he moved in her like a wave on the shore, easing pleasure up within her till it was almost heart-breaking in its purity. It even seemed to release a little bit of the pain inside her when, as he came, he keened Frank's name. They spooned together, and Brad kissed the back of her neck as they tried to fall asleep.
"You should leave," said Janet, the next morning, getting up to take a shower. Brad nodded and seemed to understand. He put his jacket on and left, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"I'll call you," he promised.
"Don't go to strange houses looking for phones," she said darkly as he opened the door to leave.
"And you were worried about beautiful women," he smiled in return.
When Janet had her shower that day, for a few glorious minutes, she didn't feel dirty. She felt cleaner and warmer than she had in months.
The first one of her old friends to call was Betty Hapshatt, nee Monroe. Janet hadn't seen her since her wedding, then again, Janet had hardly seen anyone since the wedding. Maybe Brad had? She wondered whether they'd have coffee again sometime so she could ask him.
"Hey, honey!"
"Mrs Ralf Hapshatt! How's married life going for you?"
"Oh, it's fabulous! And I hear that you'll be becoming Mrs Brad Majors any day now! Congratulations! I'm so happy. Ralf said Brad had been planning to propose for months!"
Dammit; well, apparently Brad hadn't spoken to them.
"Yeah, I'm not so sure that's going to happen,"
"Honey! What's that all about? You and Brad are perfect together. You have to meet me for lunch and tell me what happened!"
"NO! I mean, I'd like to and all, but I kind of have a lot on..."
"Nonsense, honey. I'll meet you at the diner in two hours. This is an emergency."
Janet felt wretched as she pulled one of her old dresses out of the trashbags that she hadn't yet taken out. A bright lemon yellow, skirts down to her knees and white buttons. For the first time since coming home from hospital, she slept with her hair in curlers, but the next morning, her hair looked sallow and lacklustre. She rubbed her face, it feeling a little naked without make-up. Walking through the street with nobody looking at her was novel. Janet caught her reflection in the window of a TV-shop and was a little taken aback. She looked a bit bedraggled, diminished, cheap. She tried to stand a little straighter, but innocent perkiness didn't come to her character, just a hard-jawed challenge. Janet slouched again and hurried to the diner to meet Betty.
Betty's face was fuller than she had been at the wedding, the engagement band no longer sparkled quite so fiercely on her finger, but her make-up was flawless. When they'd been room-mates, Janet had seen Betty do her make-up in five minutes straight, with the lights out. This had the definite sheen of having sat in front of the mirror and carefully applied it. Subtle peachy flesh tones and pearlescent pink lips, things that Frank seemed to have driven out of her mind.
"Oh honey, you look awful!" were the first words out of Betty's mouth when Janet entered the diner. She pulled her in for a tight hug and then pushed her back to examine her more closely. She pushed Janet down into the booth and tapped a passing waitress on the elbow.
"We're going to need some pie over here, and two chocolate milkshakes, this is an emergency."
The waitress gave a warm friendly grin and left for the kitchen. Janet remembered those smiles, remembered being considered acceptable. She wondered that she didn't miss it. The milkshakes were too wholesome and heavy; Janet wondered if Betty would leave if she pushed it to one side and ordered a beer.
"So, tell me, what did Brad do? We have to fix this, honey. You were so close!"
"It's not Brad exactly..."
"Oh, honey! What did you do? And how could you? Brad's such a sweet guy!"
Janet shrugged and poked a forkful of the tart blueberry pie filling, the sour notes harmonising with her moods better than the cheerful mint green tiling, the red plastic seats or Betty's baby blue suit.
"Brad would have made a perfect husband," Janet agreed.
Betty looked tearful at this statement and blew her nose furiously on a lacy handkerchief.
"Don't you worry about a thing! I am going to bake you one of my secret weapon soufflés, we'll make Ralphy bring Brad round. Everything will be alright, you'll see!"
Janet smiled weakly at the very idea of sitting in one of her old dresses, across from Brad in his old suits, talking about the same old things they had before. It was so wrong it almost made her laugh.
"Oh, and honey," Betty looked around the restaurant nervously and cupped her hand around her mouth to prevent her from being heard, "If you want that boy back, you might have to, you know.., let him go further. I know it's shocking, but you'll be married soon anyway, and it might be the only way to keep him!"
Janet didn't laugh until she got home.
Betty was utterly appalled when Janet arrived at the door in a bright red dress with a low scooping neck line.
"Oh, honey, no. You know you can't wear red, it washes you out! And besides, I know I told you to...well, relax a little bit, but you can't wear that. It will give him ideas."
Janet allowed herself to be dragged upstairs and pushed into one of Betty's skirts and twin sets. She almost enjoyed having her hair brushed and styled into it's usual flaxen curls. It reminded her of Magenta and Columbia as they played together in the castle.
"There!" declared Betty, putting her old string of faux pearls around Janet's neck. Janet looked at her reflection: a doll with dark, knowing eyes, whilst Betty glowed with pride and patted her bob into shape.
The doorbell buzzed and the sound of Ralph's jovial voice came up the stairs.
"Brad, old man! Long time, no see! Where have you been hiding yourself?"
Brad's voice sounded over the top and somewhat forced, but then again, Janet supposed, it always had.
"Just around. I see married life is suiting you."
"Well, you know Betty does cook amazingly well."
Betty preened at these words and came to drag Janet away from the mirror.
"You look great, honey, now..." she paused to apply a pearly pink lipstick to herself and a coral one on Janet, "Ready? Let's go dazzle the boys!"
Janet's heart was pumping furiously as she walked down the stairs, feeling more self conscious than she ever had before their first date. Brad's eyes opened wide when he saw her; Janet wasn't sure whether the surprise she saw in his face was a pleasant one, and there was a fear there that didn't reassure her.
"Er, sorry about this, old feller, but you kids were such a good match..."
Brad took off his glasses and polished them awkwardly. Janet stared fixedly at the floor, trying to make her face telegraph that this wasn't her idea.
"You know, we knew you had something special- Brad here hasn't been seen with another girl since you separated."
Janet and Brad met each other's eyes. The amused gleams made them both melt into smiles and blush lightly at all the things Ralph and Betty didn't know.
"Janet has always been the only girl for me." said Brad, just a little wryly.
"There, honey!" exclaimed Betty, clapping her hands together, "Ralph, I'd like your help carving the turkey," she said pointedly, furiously beckoning her husband into the kitchen. The door was left open a crack, but they were pointedly leaving them alone together. Brad took her hands and stood a little too close to her, speaking quietly.
"Dammit, Janet, I think I have a right to know what's going on here!"
"Oh, Brad," she sighed, wilting towards him slightly, "Betty was just so insistent. It was far easier this way."
"So you don't want to get back together?"
Janet bit her lip and squeezed Brad's hands tightly.
"I don't know. I think I'm going mad, and then I look at you and I feel sane again. Brad..."
Brad grasped her shoulders and pulled her up into a firm kiss. The type he used to give her before Frank, before that fateful trip. It was so easy to melt back into it. To feel the innocent little flutter in her stomach and to smile. Brad held her still, looking earnest and soft as Janet tried, with all her might, to silence the small part of her that screamed 'no', that this would be intolerable...
"We can't go back, Brad."
Brad nodded and let his hands trail away from her slowly.
"And then, Brad said 'Goddamnit! This is a finance conference, not a church picnic! You should have seen the look on his face!" Ralph and Betty laughed far too heartily at a memory that barely raised a cold smile from Brad or Janet. Janet reach across under the table and stroked Brad's finger lightly. "I tell you, we're all expecting great things from Brad, and the Chairman can't wait to see Brad happily tied down."
Janet blanched, and smiled weakly. Betty and Ralph smiled pleasedly at one another.
"Brad and I aren't..., that is to say..."
"More carrots?" asked Betty, very quickly, shushing Janet with her eyes. Janet sagged a little, shook her head and concentrated on eating her food.
"I think Janet and I still have a few things to discuss," said Brad, polishing his glasses on the table cloth, "but we can do that after this very delicious meal."
"Mmmmm." said Ralph, popping some of the turkey into his mouth, "Another slice anyone?"
Janet choked a little and put down her fork. Brad rubbed his ankle against hers.
"Janet, honey! You look ill!" cried Betty, looking at Brad with far more concern than for her friend. Janet was grateful when he took her hand. Betty's eyes crinkled knowingly.
"Brad, look! The poor dear is faint. You must take her home! You know how she gets when things are too much. You can't leave her alone in such a state."
"Oh, Brad. I don't want to be any worry!"
Brad helped her up and put his jacket around her.
"It's alright, Janet," he said, putting his arm around her and meeting her eyes with what must be reassurance- how could it not be when it made her feel so warm and safe? "Everything's going to be...alright."
Brad took her back to his place- she didn't argue. Her brain had been so full of sex and the sense of 'gone away' that she'd forgotten the murder- forgotten the horror of it all. She wanted to forget again- to return to the louche, decadent world of the Frankenstein place where nothing was real and nothing had consequences.
"Come in, Janet."
They lay on the bed for hours, smoking, listening to the old records from before Frank. Janet in her underwear, Brad in corset, heels and stockings.
"It feels right like this, doesn't it, Brad?" asked Janet, head resting against his thigh, his fingers covered in lipstick from stroking her lips.
"Yes, Janet. It sure does."
He didn't wear lipstick, or eyeliner, as well as Frank, but that was more sexy. Looking up at him- seeing the pretty, all American boy charm, dressed as a complete,...well, slut.
Janet pushed a kiss to his thigh, and Brad groaned in something like bliss. Drunk on the nicotine, warmth and comfort of the room, she turned and pressed more kisses against the soft hair of his legs, the tender skin of the muscles exposed above his stockings. Running hands over the nylons, the hair beneath them prickling, but still Brad..., still real, still something. His feet were cocked inelegantly in the heels, his toes trying to curl up. There was a dark, wet spot appearing in the silken panties he wore. Janet nuzzled them, the smell of Brad, the smell of sex, the memory of Frank.
"What are we doing, Janet?"
"Doesn't hurt to give yourself over to pleasure, does it, Brad?" she smiled, kissing his neck and stroking his nipples, barely covered by the corset.
"I think we both know that's a lie," said Brad, rubbing his hand along her side, his breath shuddering as his fingers ran over her rib cage.
"It doesn't have to be," said Janet, her head starting to feel clear again, sex starting to feel innocent, fun, happy; if she could just stay here, warm in his absolute knowledge of her- of what she'd been through. She straddled Brad, pulling him up, continuing her assault on his neck, his mouth, guiding his hands to her bra. His hands as gentle and worshipful as Rocky's, kneading her, needing her. Needing something, soft, gentle, warm.
"Isn't this nice, Brad? Isn't it?"
Brad stood up and went to the mirror, leaving Janet panting slightly on the bed. He seemed to be miles away from the situation for a moment, his posture changing. The coltish stagger and awkward stance melting away. Brad ran his hands over his body, his neck.
"I still don't know what keeps coming over me." said Brad, his mouth looking swollen by smudged lipstick and hard kisses, his eyes small under the make-up. It was so different from Brad of 'Brad Majors and his fiancee, Janet Weiss'. It was...well, it was 'Brad', purred the way Frank said it, all throat and undertone.
Janet was much shorter than him in her bare feet, feeling practically naked in white cotton next to the red broccade. She joined him by the mirror, taking his hand and pressing kisses up his arm. Brad turned and enveloped her in a hug, pressing kisses to the top of her head.
"I think I like you better like this," said Janet, running a finger under one of his suspenders, "It's...sexy,"
"Janet, I...feel..."
And she kissed him again. This time Brad grabbed her by the waist and practically charged her back to the bed. They fell softly into the mass of duvet and blanket, kissing, grasping, touching. Janet wrapped her legs around Brad's waist and threw her head back. It didn't feel dirty with Brad, in the same way that it had when this had been Rocky, any of the others...even Frank.
"Oh...oh, Brad," she sighed, tousling her fingers in his hair.
The wedding was wrong. It was hard not to feel miserable as she stood, surrounded by her oldest friends. Her mother was sobbing and clutching her Aunt Heather's hand, as her cousin Jessie pulled the veil down over his eyes. Janet felt a million miles away from it, all of it.
"You look beautiful, honey. Are you nervous?"
Janet shook her head, idly, feeling shrouded in her wedding veil. She was suffering through this day, for Brad and his work, for her parents, for their friends.
Brad looked as miserable as her, standing at the altar, bound in his suit.
"I'm glad you were able to put that horrid business behind you," said Dr Scott as he passed them in the line out of the church. Janet bent down to kiss him on the cheek, wondering whether he was wearing stockings under the blanket that always covered his knees. She noticed he still couldn't meet Brad's eye.
Brad's boss kissed her cheek and gave Brad an arm crushingly firm handshake.
"We always knew you'd be the one to tie down this particular stud," he said, giving Janet a theatrical wink. Brad gave him a jocular punch on the shoulder and tried to look bashful.
The car was pleasingly silent as they drove away from the Church and the waving crowd.
They drove through the long, empty, wooded lanes to Brad's house. Janet took off her veil and threw it into the back seat.
"You're a picture, Janet." said Brad, taking his hand off the stick and rubbing her knee reassuringly. It was his 'Brad Majors' persona, and she wanted to slap it off his face. She didn't want that jocular, clean cut, masculinity. She didn't want a man that wanted her in this white dress. The picture of who they'd been before was too complete and wrapped too tightly around her.
"Stop the car."
"Janet...?"
"Stop the car, Brad!"
The car stopped at the roadside and she clambered out. She couldn't get out of that horrible dress- the monstrosity of white polyester satin. It was like being in a parody of all the dreams she'd had since she was a little girl. The mockrery she was making of it, that it was making of her, made her sick to her stomach.
She had to tear the cheap material to get it off her, but she did feel better, standing in her underwear- dressed for a wedding in Frank's laboratory. She breathed, clinging to a tree by the road side.
"I can't do this, Brad. I can't be a wife. Not even for pretend."
Brad was still in character, so when he rushed to her side, grasped her to him, it was stifling.
"It's alright, Janet. Everything's going to be alright," he whispered, his voice smooth, calm, and masterful.
"Stop!" she cried, pushing him away and returning to the car, "This isn't the Junior Chamber of Commerce, Brad, this is me! We didn't get married to be like Ralph and Betty."
They drove in silence. The sky started to darken, the clouds were heavy with rain, and the promise of a truly horrific night. Janet knew the feeling. She couldn't face the idea of being Mrs Brad Majors, and lying on the bed- not making love, not revelling in their sexuality, but simply consummating their marriage. Tonight she wanted anyone's body but his.
The kid was something like Rocky- beautiful, but with a wide eyed innocence and eagerness to please that Janet was beginning to suspect she was an absolute sucker for. He was young, his ID was fake, and his kisses were sloppy, but he wasn't Brad.
And yet, he was. His hands were in her hair and all she could think about as he kissed her was Brad and how much she loved him. He moved her breasts too roughly, like Rocky had, curious and so damn grateful just to touch them- it didn't feel dirty. Brad was there, glowing in her mind like a beacon of light, loving her as she was fucked against a wall by a kid in a Letterman jacket.
"Wow, I think I heard a bell ring," the kid said, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his hair up. Janet felt a million miles away from the situation, teasing her hair back into its shiny curls, pushing her skirt down again.
"Do you wanna go get a milkshake, or something?" he asked, biting his bottom lip and looking hopeful.
"It was nothing like that, it was just..." ...giving in to pleasure? Making someone else feel dirty? Used? She was going to waltz out of his life as completely as Frank had left hers.
"I'm sorry."
The hurt in the kid's eyes was as palpable as the uncertainty. The clean feeling, the completely loved sensation of being Brad's, forever, of all the hands touching her body becoming Brad's, not Frank's, it faded. The seediness of the alley began to seep into her.
"I shouldn't have, I tricked you..." she stammered, wondering if he felt how she felt when Frank left- empty, guilty, unclean.
"No! It was great! I mean, I've never, but...It was nice!" he stammered, looking horrified.
"Just...take care?" Janet smiled, wanly, "You don't want your girl to end up like me, do you? If you're not careful you end up screwing High school Seniors in alleyways behind bars,"
"You're not a hooker are you?" he asked, wide eyed and backing away. Janet laughed, sounding manic even to her own ears. Her hair tickled her back as she tossed her head with mirth.
"No, I'm just a slut," she said, turning to go and find a cab to take her back to Brad's place.
Brad was on his bed, his head thrown back, smeared lipstick, black stilettos and spread legs. A cigarette dangled from his fingers. Her still tender cunt burned for him, just as her heart recoiled in guilt. This Brad, debauched and sexy, that's who she'd married.
"I shouldn't have gone out," said Janet softly, taking off her dress and going to wash her face in the bathroom. Brad's eyes were hurt, but not angry.
"I took the hint. I found someone too... he left a little while before you got home. Dammit, Janet, why couldn't you tell me that was something you needed?"
Janet lay down in the bed beside him. It smelled of sex, and Brad personified it. He almost felt as loftily sensual as Frank had ever done. Janet ran a finger down his cheek. He sighed and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
"It'll be okay, Janet."
"I'll always come back again, it's just...once in a while."
Brad hummed, his face was tender; his pupils were blown with arousal. When he looked like this, Janet could see home in his eyes. It was easy to feel soothed when he kissed her again. He smelt of sex, and she was still wet from her last encounter. This was her sexuality, she felt, as he slid into her and held her close. It was peace.