Anything To Get Well
By Patrick M. Tracy
(Warning: some adult themes in this one. PMT)
Lorraine hadn’t felt right since she came back from Mazatlan. Something was a little off, and not jet lag, either. She took her vitamins every morning, drank that awful herbal remedy she bought from the health food store, and even started jogging again, but she walked around feeling like crap nonetheless.
“I need a day off, Luke,” she told her boss. “I just don’t feel that good. Maybe I need to go down to the coast.”
She’d been sleeping with Luke for almost eleven months. It felt strange to think of it sometimes, but she wasn’t guilty for enticing him to fool around behind Sandra’s back. She always found herself with married men. She didn’t know why.
“You’ve been acting like a zombie, sweetie. You’re supposed to recharge on your vacation, you know.” He gave her an earnest look, though it darkened into a horny leer. Sliding his hands across her ribs, he pulled her close. He was aroused instantly. Lorraine wished he wouldn’t finish with equal alacrity, but let herself be handled. A quick, rough nailing in the supply closet didn’t satisfy her, but she enjoyed thinking about it later in the day. She liked to talk to Sandra about her Siamese cats while thinking of Luke, jaw clenched, face flushed and sweaty, pumping for all he was worth.
Lorraine’s mother had often told her that she was, “a mean little tramp”, and she supposed that was true. She lay back against the overstuffed shelving, feeling the plastic wrappers of the logo sweatshirts against the backs of her arms. She opened herself to Luke, and he made his sweaty three minutes of friction within her unflowering womb.
Looking at the blankness of his eyes, something deep within her sung out, like a high and quavering note on a violin. She wasn’t much of a violin fan, herself. She liked Rachmaninoff’s piano concertos. Still… the sound. It filled her, and she suddenly felt well again. Clear.
She became somewhat present in the sexual process, moving against Luke as well as she could with one foot cocked high and out of the way. She wrapped her hands around his neck, feeling his pulse.
“So good,” he whispered, quivering for a moment before pulling free of her. “It felt so different this time.”
She smiled at Luke, smoothing her dress back down. “That’s because I’m different inside. All different.”
Luke wasn’t really paying attention to her now. He used a towel he kept behind the wash basin to wipe dry, then tucked himself back inside his trousers.
Lorraine bent and grasped the brick that the stockman used to hold the door open. It would do. When Luke turned around to pull his coat off the opposite shelf, she swung it at the base of his skull. His body jumped, and he made an interrogatory noise before slumping the the floor. She thought he was dead, but swung a few more times to be sure. She hooked her hands beneath his arms and hauled him out to the loading dock, pushing him into the dumpster and closing the lid.
She’d go and talk to Sandra now. It would be the last time. Jojo and Mr. Wiggles—the Siamese cats—would be alone tonight. Lorraine thought she’d always be filled with the violin sound, all humming and vibrato within her. It was all right. She finally felt okay again.