Lady Alene and the Widower
A read by S.N.McKibben:The Excerpt:
Reluctantly, I resign myself and chalk this moment off to weak will-power. Footfalls that couldn't be mine, but were, land heavily upon each step. Trying to talk myself out of this "appointment" inflicts cruel tricks. My heart is at the bottom of a cold ocean, but my body responds with erotic need. Arousal betrays my thoughts for any passer-by. They only need look below my belt.
Ascending the stairs extracts a price on my soul. Frustration comes out to emasculate me, so I stop the upward climb and lean against the wall. Both hands hide my shame. I heave a sigh that comes out in shuddering waves. Justifications don’t lighten my heart. The ones that claim I can pretend it's her. This session will be a release. I will solely think of her, not the woman I bought out of desperation. But the lie is an invisible hand crushing my guts. Fourteen months ago, I buried my soul, my wife of fifteen years. I miss her; she was my life, my only love. The screech of tires and the sickening sound of metal folding in on itself still haunt my dreams. Part of me believes she’ll come back. My beautiful Tasha, with long blond curls and piercing blue eyes. Gone. I force the tears away. She is not coming back. But my young, fit body retains needs only a loving woman can fulfill. “A loving woman.” My tone and mockery echoes down the cascade of stairs. What was Lady Alene then? Whore, half of me answered. The other half…didn’t answer. Not with words. I’m not the deceiving type. Taking a bar fly home would relieve certain stresses, but the guilt of using a woman in place of my wife wouldn’t set my morals at ease. Nor would the hypothetical bar fly like to be used as a stand-in. Funny how morals can get convoluted by desperation. Straightening and breathing a sigh, I continue up the stairs. Lady Alene awaits. |
Lady Alene and the Widower
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