Ano
Hito no Jijō (That Person's Circumstances)
by
Saddletank
Chapter Thirty Seven – Days Of Wonder #3: Beg Me To Touch You
"I
think lots of what we do, how we behave is driven by events within
our families." - Asaba Hideaki, July 1995 - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - -
It didn't occur to me until we were at my door that it wasn't actually night time.
It was barely mid afternoon of a lovely hot July day.
"Come on in, if you want."
I got us some cold drinks and we sat outside on the back porch.
I had been quiet on the train and the walk home, and I was quiet now.
After that stupid-ness at the beach I couldn't think of anything to say.
Finally.
"You must think me very dull and silly for spoiling two of our days out."
He was quiet for a moment. He leaned back on his hands, looked at the fence at the bottom of the garden and in a thoughtful voice said;
"I remember very clearly my first date. I got a slap across the face after fifteen minutes and she stormed out of the movie theatre."
"Really? What did you do?"
"Ha, you don't want to know. But I wasn't watching the movie."
He chuckled.
"And my next date lasted nearly an hour before I ended up with an ice cream sundae poured over my head. Yeah, that was okay though because it was a very hot day."
"You said the wrong thing to her again?"
"What do you mean 'again'? The girl in the movie theatre never came near me after that. Ice cream sundae girl was the second girl I went out with and the second I annoyed so much we never spoke again."
I looked at him. He was thinking hard, his brow furrowed in concentration.
He looked so cute, his brain hard at work, it was enough to make me cross. People have no right to look cute just by thinking.
"Now then, girl three. At least I got through the whole afternoon with her. But then we were just sat on her mom's sofa watching TV. So she didn't hit me or run out or throw food over me. But basically nothing happened and we didn't have a second date."
"Oh, dear, you weren't very lucky were you?"
He turned to look at me.
That slightly sad feeling was back in his eyes again.
"It's nothing to do with luck. It's to do with the jerk I was back then. Now you – well, you've had three dates. Your first three. And you've not been slapped, or eaten ice cream sundaes in interesting ways or bored your date stupid watching daytime TV and the same guy has come back to ask you out again. So, all in all, I think you're doing pretty damn good. Better than I ever did," he smiled, "So, Sakana. I don't want to hear any rubbish about you being dull or silly or ruining dates. It's not true. So just stop saying it. It takes an expert like me to do that."
"Arigato. You're very kind. But I'm not a confident person. I always think when things go wrong that it's my fault. Because usually it is."
"And, it took me about six or eight dates with one particular girl before I realized she was interesting enough and gorgeous enough for me to want to kiss her. It's never happened after three before."
He got up.
"Have you any more iced barley tea?" he asked
I looked at him.
"Kiss her?"
"It's okay, I'll go fix myself another. You want one?"
"Sure."
I sat watching the lawn being the lawn and wondered if I'd heard him right.
It was still sunny and I thought of getting a towel out and sunbathing but being alone with him now I wasn't sure that would be sending the right message. So I didn't. I didn't have a clue what to do, and I didn't think daytime TV would be high on his wish list.
"Hey, you have a music centre right?"
"Yup."
"Let's dance then. I'll teach you."
"Uh…" good idea or not? "Are you going to put your arms around me again?"
He drew himself up to his full height and looked very proper and sensible. He put a hand over his heart, raising his chin like a soldier on parade.
"I promise you I won't lay a hand on you, not on a single part of your enticing cuteness. You have my solemn word."
"Hmmm…I can't trust you. There's gotta be a catch. What about other rude parts of your body?"
"Very well my cutie. You have Asaba Hideaki's sworn vow, that no part of my anatomy will touch yours. Unless you ask me to."
"Um, okay then."
"You will of course want me to. Later," he grinned in his evil perverted way, "And by then of course, I'll insist that you beg me to."
- - - oOo - - -
He carefully lifted the big mirror off the hallway wall and carried it into the library. By pushing furniture aside we made a clear space and he set the mirror against the bookshelves at one end. From his rucksack he took out a soft wallet of CDs he carried for his personal player.
I dropped the bamboo blinds down over the shutters. The room became gloomy.
"Right. First of all, I'll put something on and you just watch me, okay? I want you to just get into the mood of this music to begin with, the style and beat. This is the stuff I dance to down at the club."
"Right."
Suddenly my house was full of – well I don't know what it was but it certainly wasn't J-Pop and it certainly wasn't Joe Hisaishi or even Yoko Kanno for that matter.
A measured low deep bass beat filled the room. Asapin cranked up the volume and the treble and bass until I felt the floor vibrating. The deep throbbing swelling beat got louder then increased its pace and a staccato electric drum rhythm slid into hearing over the top of it and that got louder and sped up too. Something began that sounded like a cat having excess water wrung out of it but which I think was a modified woman's voice looping over and over.
I could feel my speakers being destroyed. I could see the Yen signs of the replacement cost going up before my eyes.
Asaba stood still in the middle of the room and began to do things with just his arms, raising them, weaving them around his head in a sort of mystical style. Then the beat ripped open and the music just went mental, much louder, much faster and painfully punchy. His feet began to move and although he twisted and turned and did things a lot with his arms and upper body, and hips, especially the hips, he didn't use any floor space.
I began to tap my toes. The music was crazy. I was glad we had a fairly large detached house, the sound through an adjoining wall would have had the neighbours round in five minutes.
And that was my innocent introduction, at the tender age of fifteen years and eleven months to trance music. Asaba apparently danced to a lot of trance, garage, hip-hop and techno, so I later found out.
And I didn't really mind if I learned to dance or not.
What I wanted to do was watch him.
He was fantastic. He moved so smoothly and confidently. I'm going to use some very bad language here but please forgive me because this is how I felt.
He was. Simply. Fucking. Amazing.
The guy should be on TV.
My jaw was lying on the floor, I was stunned. He was that good.
Now I knew why he had such rubbish grades at school. Bowling, body boarding, finding good restaurants, becoming an expert at women's swimwear and now dancing. I think he'd been having a hell of a lot more fun this last semester than I had.
And that afternoon and evening he taught me.
In front of that big old mirror my mother used to do her hair in, and brush mine in when I was six.
I wasn't that good. It takes a while to lower your guard and shake away your nerves and embarrassment and self-conscious baggage to do any kind of dancing, if you've never danced before. And that doesn't count for this stuff, because once a trance beat really plugs into you, you have to completely give yourself up to it. You have to put aside every single thing, every thought, every worry about how you look, whether anyone is watching you, and stuff like that.
- - - oOo - - -
Let me see, it must have been coming up to five o'clock when we started. We fell apart and collapsed on the tatamis around eight or just after. Over three hours of hard exercise.
I wasn't exhausted but I needed a breather. My shorts and tee shirt had become soaked through with sweat and I'd got rid of the shorts at some point. They fit too well and were restricting me. Asaba had ditched his clothing ages ago and was dancing in just his swim shorts.
I got us yet another jug of iced water and had to refill the ice maker, we'd been drinking that much fluid.
"Are you hungry yet?"
"Oh, yeah, let's eat."
Once again, despite my hostess insistence he firmly brushed me aside and made us a meal. He didn't cook but got salads and pickles and some sushi and cold meats and cold rice from the fridge and did things with it and cheered it all up.
I'd got us a couple of clean towels and he wore one around his shoulders while he worked, wiping his face from time to time.
"Don't eat much," he wagged a finger accusingly in my face, "you can't dance on a full stomach, you'll puke. Just a little. We can leave the food out and pick at it as we need to."
"Hm, whatever."
"Any beer left?"
"Yes, there's three left from what you bought the other day. I haven't touched them."
He got one and cracked it open.
"Want some?"
I shook my head.
"Well, actually. Wait."
I got lemonade from the fridge and poured half a glass full. He topped it up with beer. Glass clinked on can.
Alcohol. The first I'd ever tasted. I can't say I was a great fan of the flavour but I wanted to stay in this mood, this great mood he'd created out of a really dodgy moment in the middle of a dodgy broken dead-end afternoon when I was feeling really down. And beer seemed a good idea.
"Parents not at home again?"
"No."
"They seem to be away a lot."
"Yes. Uh, actually I live on my own."
He put the can down.
"You do? You never said."
"You never asked. I don't like to tell people."
"Are they…separated?"
"Dead. Mum died of cancer when I was eight. Dad of a heart attack when I was twelve."
"Oh. Gomen nasai."
"Arigato. But it's stuff long gone. You know I don't really miss them. We were never a close family."
"So how come you're living here alone?"
"Dad's will stipulated that the house shouldn't be sold until all the children were eighteen. And his life insurance payment was big. Enough to maintain the house and give me an allowance. With plenty spare; some went to my sis, some to my brother. The rest is held in investments for me for when I'm eighteen. The house is actually owned a third by sis, a third by my brother and a third held in trust for me. My sis keeps an eye on me, keeps in touch."
"I didn't know you had a brother and sister."
"Hm. Twins. They're both a lot older than me. Sis is married and lives in Tama. My brother works on ships. Oil tankers. He's abroad now, I don't know where."
And I don't want to talk about him, okay?
A few minutes silence. Asaba seemed to have this very useful and very kind ability to shut up when I needed him to.
He drained his beer.
"Now, back to the dance floor."
He changed CDs. Something new began. This was different. It was still painfully loud and electronic but this was nice. It was smooth and had a gentle flowing pulsing beat.
"This is techno beatz," he shouted, "it'll just go on building and flowing and changing for a long while. There's basically only one track on this CD, it runs for forty minutes changing and doing different things. You can do so much with this. You can do an energy dance to it and burn yourself out in twenty minutes or you can do a spiritual thing and just let your soul tune in to whatever the music is saying. And go gently."
I wasn't completely convinced, he sounded like a doorstep cultist.
He stood and raised his arms and began to sway about and flow and bend and roll his head and hips. He became like liquid. It was very unusual and quite pleasing to watch.
No, that's a lie, it was very pleasing to watch.
Hm.
Sorry, I really need to stop deceiving myself.
It was beautiful to watch. He was the fruitiest thing I had ever seen in my life. Not that I've watched that many odd videos in my time I can tell you, but watching him…
It was tiger in Africa time again. He became something primitive. Just the essentials. Antelope Ripping Asaba had entered the building.
My heart beat went up and my breathing rate went with it.
There was something I very much wanted to do.
And it had to be done right now.
I took another drink of my shandy, put down the glass and walked over to him, facing him.
- - - oOo - - -
He looked at me, moving swaying.
I looked at him.
The music was doing odd things to me. I was hot again, damp. Urgent. I could feel my pores opening.
I began to move with him, a little way away but trying to flow where he flowed, curve as he curved. He grinned at me and changed his style a little making it easier for me to copy.
Hm, this was good.
But…
I had too many clothes on.
Looking at him I put my hands to the hem of my tee shirt and slowly lifted, pulling it up and over my head and throwing it away.
That was better.
Music like this, a situation like this. It just felt right to have very little clothing on.
In the way, I mean to say.
We moved together for a while. There was no touching, just as he'd promised and we stayed a couple of feet apart.
He moved and I followed.
After a while I simply forgot everything. I knew only that it was night now and the room was dark, lit only from the kitchen across the hallway.
And it was right here.
He was here.
I was here.
We were here, he and I, boy and girl. Everything became painfully, desperately clear to me.
I think we danced for about thirty minutes.
I have never enjoyed myself so much in my life.
And as he promised he didn't touch me.
Not once.
And damn, did that make me so cross.
I wanted him to, he got very close.
At one point I was doing a swaying thing from the hips, my arms up above my head. He came to me and held his hands either side of me and ran them up and down my flanks, but a few inches away. I don't know if that was a dance move or whether he was doing some sort of test, to see if I'd break or something.
I very nearly did.
I almost did.
I almost grabbed his hands and put them on me and wanted him to touch.
But.
Too soon.
Too much.
Even though I wanted it.
A part of me was screaming out to have him touch me.
Another part was holding back, wanting him to stay away.
I was, for fifteen minutes, on a fine thread, unsure which way to fall.
I closed my eyes and moved and felt him moving close by.
Now, unlike at the beach, I could feel his eyes on me.
That made me feel almost as good as if they were his hands.
Almost.
- - - oOo - - -
The music died away. The CD had ended.
It was dark. I stopped moving.
I was exhausted, hot, wet through with sweat.
But happy.
Very happy.
He stood in front of me, still now, just his chest rising and falling, sucking in air.
His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, down one side of his face.
He was close.
I looked at him.
He looked back at me.
You know, I thought, if I wanted to, right now. I could.
I could, you know.
I could.
Kiss you.
His eyes were not wide but partly closed, relaxed.
There was something in them.
That pale sadness was back.
He looked.
How can I describe him?
Lost. Lonely. Vulnerable.
None of those are words I'd ever usually associate with Asaba.
Tonight, though, right here, right now, almost naked and alone with me in my house.
There seemed to be a real part of him, a human open part that was here.
I thought, if I let him, anything could happen.
I lifted a hand, raised it towards one side of his face.
A single finger, towards his hair where it was damply stuck, where it partly obscured one eye.
I reached out.
His hand came up and held mine, an inch or two from his face.
I frowned.
What?
"It's my vow," he said, quietly
I frowned more deeply.
"No part of my anatomy will touch yours, remember?"
I remembered.
"But that had been so you wouldn't touch me, not me you."
"I don't think we qualified that, did we?"
"What are you saying? You're touching me now."
His hand around my wrist. Tight. Strong. In control.
If he were to put his other hand around my other wrist, and hold them wide apart… lift them.
Spread them.
Spread me.
And move his face forwards…
I'd be.
Submitting…
"Only to stop you touching me," his face was still calm, still a little sad.
"Is that what you want? You don't want me to touch you?"
"What do you think is wise to do? Now?"
"I was just going to…"
"What?"
"Move your hair aside."
"Why?"
That was a good question. The answer was, of course simply the touch alone.
Wasn't it?
Not for any other reason.
"I… I wanted to see. Your face."
"You already can. Can't you?"
"Yes."
I had to admit it. He was making me admit it. He was in control here. I had to admit something else too.
I wanted that.
I wanted him in control.
I needed for him to be in control.
And for me to submit.
God, I wanted that.
"Ask me."
"What?"
I didn't understand what he wanted now.
"No part of me will touch you. Unless you ask me. That was what we agreed."
He was right, I think, although I couldn't remember the details.
"Can I?"
"Hm?"
"Can I. Touch you?"
How long was this going to go on for? I felt a trickle of sweat run down from under my chin. Down my neck. It reached my collar bone and ran down. And down. Down between me. The girl parts of me. I looked down and watched the bead of moisture run.
I looked up.
He was looking down there. Watching it trickle.
Looking at me.
Where I curved.
His eyes felt like hands.
I wanted them to be his hands.
I wanted them to be his mouth.
His tongue.
I wanted him on me, his eyes, his hands.
His lips.
I looked at his lips.
How would they taste?
What would a kiss be like?
I had never had one.
A quick peck, from mom, or sis.
And that one, during The Incident.
He looked at my face again. Still solemn, he was, still relaxed, still a little sad.
"You need to beg."
"What?"
"I told you. Before we danced. That you'd want me to touch you."
"I remember."
"And that later it would be different. You need to beg me."
Suddenly something warm was back, something wonderful and wet and hot and insistent. Growing and demanding attention. Down. There. The only way to scratch this itch was to make it worse. By making this itch worse it got better, the feeling got stronger, and the stronger it got the more wonderful it got.
I stared at him, I was losing it, losing the ability to think clearly, losing the ability to really care about anything very much.
The thing inside me was just demanding more and more, taking over, taking away my reasons, my reasons not to do things.
And replacing them.
With very good and very urgent reasons to deal with this awful, growing unnecessary heat.
This delicious burning longing.
Suddenly the reasons I had, the reasons my own body was giving me, that it would be a very, very good idea indeed to deal with this growing need…
These reasons became stronger, stronger than anything else, above all else it would be…
Beautiful.
To touch him.
And encourage him.
To touch me.
"Onegai," I asked.
He smiled a little.
"That wasn't nearly enough."
You sod. What do you want me to do, go down on my knees?
"Onegai," I whined, my voice verging on the edge of desperate.
He let go of my wrist.
I dropped my arm to my side.
"Onegai-desu, touch me."
Slowly he brought his right hand up. I watched it coming, what would he do? Quite frankly I didn't care, as long as I had blessed contact with him, and from that contact more happened. It was the more that I needed, craved now. I wanted the more to become enough. Enough to just let this beautiful burning need be satisfied.
His hand touched my left arm, above the elbow, he rested it there, held me there. I could feel the lightest of pressures from a tiny area of skin. It was his thumb knuckle. It was touching the side of my breast, the lightest of contacts, the smallest area of skin.
But my mind became focused on it, that point of contact became my entire universe.
WARNING : SLIPPERY WHEN WET.
His other hand came up and held my other arm.
Please…
Push my arms behind me.
Push them back.
And hold them there, my wrists together.
Grip them in one of yours.
Pin them behind me.
Hard.
Make me helpless.
Make me vulnerable.
God, please…
"Onegai… Asapin. Kiss me…"
I didn't know who was speaking, it certainly didn't sound like me. It sounded like someone gasping for breath, someone struggling to live, starved of oxygen.
Hoarse, rasping.
Desperate.
He came closer. His face bore no expression other than that awful gentle melancholy, as though he were doing something he didn't want to do, something against his better judgment.
Something pulling hard at him, painful, powerful, impossible to resist.
Yet wrong.
And yet at the same time his face was so tender.
So wonderfully, beautifully tender.
I felt his chest touch me. Touch mine.
Where my shape protruded he pressed against me.
Two parts of me burned and stung so hard I almost groaned just with the firm pressure against them.
I thought I would cut his skin, gouge into him, I felt so hard.
The illusion burned inside my head that I was so hard and he so soft and that I would slice into his lovely flesh.
And blood would flow.
Then his face was close…
Closer…
It tilted a little, his eyes closed.
Very close.
Then it happened.
It changed so fast, so completely I was taken totally by surprise.
This new feeling came over me, hard and fast and demanding.
Demanding that I respond to it.
Respond now.
Now.
Absolutely now. Move!
Get going!
I broke away from him, turned and put a hand to my mouth. I had no time to even croak an apology, to explain anything. It was happening, right now, instantly it was happening. I got out of the library with its tatami mat floor which would have been the very worst place to do this, but I had no chance of reaching the toilet, or even the bathroom. Too far, way too far.
More than a dozen steps, it may as well have been on another planet.
It came over me that fast.
I doubled up in the hallway between kitchen and library, left hand reaching for the wall, for something to hold onto, some point of reference in this crazy burning awful place that had so quickly become my whole world. Then it happened, no time for anything. I exploded, vomit shooting up, past the hand clamped to my mouth and squirting out in a vile, disgusting fountain, over my hand, my arm, down my jaw and onto the wooden floor.
Helplessly, hopelessly I folded down onto my knees, put both hands on the floor and simply let it happen.
Impossible to fight isn't it?
When you throw up.
All you can think about is getting rid of it. It's awful, disgusting, foul, but once it starts to happen your mind is taken over and it knows the best thing for your metabolism, your body's system is to get the contents of your stomach out now, and remove the poison.
The stomach cramps wracked my whole frame.
I retched and retched and finally the heaving became dry.
I knelt, elbows bent, forearms pathetically on the floor in the puddle I'd made, not caring. I lay my head down, forehead touching the cool wood in wonderful gratitude that it was all over.
Oh, thank you!
Thank you!
Thank you for finishing!
Now I can get on with the rest of my life.
God only knows what I looked like from behind.
Knees apart, head down on the floor... what an opportunity for Asapin if only I hadn't been kneeling in a puddle of my own stomach fluid.
I suppose there is a funny side to it.
If you find it, let me know, hm?
I heard him behind me.
Oh, no, go away!
He knelt beside me, a hand pressed onto my shoulder.
"All done? Any more to come out?"
"Onegai, don't look at me. Go away..."
"Let's get you cleaned up."
"No, just leave me. Go."
"Don't be stupid. Up you get."
Suddenly I didn't weigh 90 pounds any more, I seemed to weigh about nine. He hauled me effortlessly up and guided me, dripping disgustingly, down the hallway to the bathroom. He even held a hand, bless him, palm upwards for me to drip into.
"You're touching me," I moaned.
"You can beg me to help you if you want, but I'm happy to make an exception just this once. I find vomit sex rather exciting actually…"
"You're sick."
"No, you're sick. I'm perverted."
I turned to him. I tried to smile but it might have just looked like I was going to heave again because he drew back.
"And no, please don't ask me to kiss you now."
We reached the bathroom.
"Only one way to do this. Get in."
I climbed into the bath.
He washed his hands then turned the shower on me, adjusting it until it was refreshingly cool. He hosed my arms, my face and chin, my chest where everything had run down.
"Really you ought to take that off but I won't ask you to."
Well, here I was almost completely undressed and being showered by a lovely almost similarly undressed boy. What an opportunity. But to say that I was no longer in the mood would easily have gained me at least a silver medal in the Understatement Of The Year Olympics.
Oh, my Saka, Oh how I enjoyed that.
You didn't know that was coming did you?
But I knew. Oh yes, I knew it would be like this.
Just piss off!
Heh, heh, oh no, not yet. I'm going to enjoy this. You see now what a lovely gift I've left you? What a pretty time bomb is in your head?
Fuck off out of my face!
Shit. This was all I needed. I knelt down in the bath in shame, letting the water hose over me.
"Asapin, please, I'm alright now."
"No you're not."
Dead right, she's not. She's well and truly fucked up now, aren't you little sister?
"For God's sake, just leave me alone!"
For his answer he turned off the water, hung up the shower handle and climbed into the bath with me. He knelt and hauled me against him.
Oh, no don't. Not now, not like this.
"Onegai…dame…"(1)
And because I was in such a shitty mood, realizing now what a wonderful legacy my brother had left me, knowing that every time a boy came close to me I'd react this way due to my fucked up head, I felt in no mood at all for him to be close now.
Just go! Go! Leave me alone in my misery!
Which is why, demanding that he leave me, knowing nothing good could come from him being with me tonight or tomorrow or any other day, knowing I never wanted him to get close to me again. That's why, when I turned to him, my arms went round him and my face pressed hard into him, and clinging and grateful and pathetic and needing to want him close, I burst into tears again.
Well done Sakana. Second time today. Impressive.
- - - oOo - - -
"Gomen."
"It's okay. It's nothing."
"Gomen… gomen…"
"Shush, now."
"Gom…"
"That's enough. Stop apologizing. You don't have to."
"Asapin, I just can't tell you. Please don't ask."
"Alright, I won't. Forget it. Tell me some other time, hm?"
"I will, but you need to know it wasn't your fault. Nothing you did. You were lovely… I so wanted to… be close to you. It's something wrong with me."
"Shush, don't worry, another time, hm?"
"Hm."
We were in the kitchen. I had showered, dried and put a robe on. While I was sorting myself out in shower and then bedroom, he'd wiped up the mess in the hallway and put down disinfectant then taken a quick shower and changed into clean tee shirt and shorts.
We sat on the barstools. And as it happens, as it always just seems to, I was in his arms. Weepy and fed up and pissed off with the world and my lot in it.
I'd started to try and explain what had happened but hadn't got further than some nonsense mumbling about it being a problem I had which I'd not been aware of because no boy had got that close before.
He'd just assumed it was some kind of panic attack.
I'd denied that but didn't want to get into long deep explanations right now.
If ever, in fact.
So I had descended into stupid gratuitous self pity as usual and he had descended into wonderful helpful redemption and put out his arms and drawn me against him and made it begin to seem like it might not be all that bad after all.
Except I knew it was all that bad.
It was worse.
If my head had become damaged and each time a boy got close this was the result, then, well, I was in for a pretty crap time of things.
And if it happened when a girl got close…
That bleak thought was almost enough to tilt me over the edge into the weepy lake again, but I resisted. Two lots of crying was more than enough for one day.
I'd drive him away at this rate.
"Gomen, but I think you'd better go."
"Sure. Are you sure you'll be okay?"
I nodded, red-eyed.
"Look, I still don't know what the problem is, but if anything happens, anything at all. If you feel sick, or unhappy, or you want to talk about anything. Or even if you just want a hug. Anything at all, call me. Yes? Make sure you call me."
"You're so kind to me. I don't deserve you."
He leaned over me and kissed my hair.
"You're right. You deserve someone much better."
"Good night. It was a fantastic day. Thank you for taking me out."
"I'll call you again soon."
"Please do."
I stood in the open doorway and watched him go, watched him for five minutes as his figure dwindled down the road, until I could only see him as he passed under the pool of light from each streetlamp and in the dark intervals where he was hidden I only knew he was there. He turned the corner and was gone.
If I don't love you Asapin, I don't know what the hell this feeling is. I've never not-loved anyone this much before.
- - - oOo - - -
Something else was bothering me too.
That hot roaring wanting I'd had when he'd held my wrist, my arms.
That need to be...
Made use of.
That was the phrase I kept coming back to time after time.
Make use of me.
Use me…
I just kept thinking of being restrained.
Held down, squirming by his strong wrists while he…
Did things.
Had these desires been born out of The Incident too?
That frightened me, because the pleasure I got from just thinking about it was strong enough. I couldn't begin to imagine how wonderful it would be if it actually happened.
- - - oOo - - -
7 – 11 June 2007
(1) For notes on Japanese words, please see my forum.
For author notes about Chapter Thirty Seven, please see my forum (click on my pen name).