Author's Note: Apologies for such a late update on a school night!

Day Two-Hundred Twenty-One: Dirty Sheets by Marina and the Diamonds

Nymphomaniac.

That's what she was. She had this uncontrollable, indescribable, deviant longing to be touched and to be loved. Or at least, that's what the act was called: consummating love.

For so long, she'd been taught that sex was such a taboo. Her family was too conservative and "too classy" for that. She was sure people who were actually classy didn't ignore their children like her parents had, though.

Her sister made her promise that she'd get help after she had discovered Spencer's dirty little secret—she'd put all the pieces together, like the smart woman she was. Spencer went along with it. Part of her really did want to get better. She wanted to be a clean wife with a clean life, clean house, and clean sheets. She was hoping this was just a phase and it would pass; she would get better, eventually.

She attended the Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting her sister had found her. Something about this seemed like such a bad idea. She'd been to something like this once and it didn't really help. But perhaps now that her sister knew her secret…it would be enough shame to get her to crush her demons.

While she was there, she saw a guy—he had satyriasis, as they called it—and he didn't seem like the type she'd typically go for. A little too innocent for her taste. But she wanted a piece of him. He was different and she could tell. Though she knew it was counterproductive, she was considering asking him to go back to her place after the meeting. Who needed dinner when they could skip right to dessert?

So that was what she did. She pouted her lips and acted very flirty and teasing and got what she wanted, just like she always did. It was like the simple act of being a female was enough to get guys by the balls and get them to bend to her will. It was something she couldn't even begin to explain.

An hour later, they were back at her apartment. Long, long gone was the little girl who just wanted Daddy's attention and love. She was gone several years ago, when she first began to derive this much pleasure from getting undressed for a stranger and indulging in such carnal delights.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," he reminded her.

"We both know it won't be long before we go back to doing this with whoever will give us the time of day," she insisted. "True love isn't for people like us."

That seemed to strike something in him. This time, he kissed her more fervently,
like he was longing to just prove her wrong. The thing was that Spencer was always right and she knew it; true love wasn't for people like them. It wasn't found from getting undressed and indulging in these kinds of things. It came from talking, not just having sex.

She thought of this as she lay awake after the deed was done. She noticed long ago that it was always her that stayed up at night, thinking.

She looked at her dirty sheets. All around the room, pieces of clothing had been strewn about. Her skin felt dirty, like always.

It seemed as though she was never going to get her house with the white picket fence with the dog and the kids. She wasn't that kind of woman. That wasn't enough for her. She needed to have her illicit, salacious fantasies; they were the only thing that kept her from going out and finding more sexual partners. But that wouldn't be supported in a marriage. If she ever wanted any of that—which she really thought she did—she needed to stop kissing and sleeping with frogs that weren't princes. She could never make them princes. When she was twenty, perhaps, she thought that this was all she'd ever need. It seemed fun at first. But now, she was older, she knew it was no longer becoming. It didn't make her feel loved anymore. It just made her feel like a whore.

MilaMizz: Thank you. She sounds really cute. That's sad.

AL3110: Should I read that? It is! So is Alex, Selena, Analeigh, Chloe, Damian, and Nicole (it often goes with Analeigh). I know dat. My music teacher likes you. I'm working on Kabason. She wears purple and has a flower crown (like Lana). Thanks!

Sarah: But did you have any specific thoughts on Froot? Thanks...I guess? Well, I was going for sad, so thank you. No, I do not have an Instagram (I must be the only 15 year old without one).

I hope you found this dark. Tomorrow shall be Red by Carlie De Boer which I have ANTICIPATING EVER I SINCE I COMPILED THIS. -Kayson