what else I absolutely need to forget:
Those same full lips, sucking my nipples. Dorian’s tongue flicking across their tips, nibbling, sometimes a little too hard … just how I liked it. His mouth trailing between my breasts, between my ribs, licking my belly, kissing, sucking, inching his way towards my mons. Torturing me. Cupping my ass in his enormous hands, pulling my pelvis closer, burrowing his face into me, slipping his tongue at the very tip of my slit, finally delving deeper, sliding, finding me. Slicking against the left side of my clit, licking faster still, while I pictured hummingbirds and could have sworn I tasted sugar-water in my mouth. Because when Dorian Holder took me, my world transformed. Touch became taste, sound became vision. He fucked me into a straight-up synaesthete.
When Dorian Holder took me, my body sang.
How he tortured me, letting me come so close, then dropped me to the mattress, laughing while I tried to squirm back to him, aching for more. How he pushed my abdomen down, slid two fingers the length of my pussy’s lips. And how he brushed his middle finger ever so lightly against my pink jewel, and I literally begged him to let me come.
He loved it when I’d beg.
I didn’t imagine that part.
I used to imagine a lot of things about Dorian and me, but how he awakened my body is undeniable.
How he awakened my heart is unforgivable.
Oh! Then he would whisper sweet and breathy in my ear, something like ‘Hush’. Or ‘Are you OK, Lily?’ He’d laugh at my frantic nodding, and desperate struggling to free myself. If he was feeling mean, he’d ask, ‘Should I stop?’, knowing full well what the answer was. When he drove me to that mindspace, I became incapable of speech, and I could only shake my head: no.
Sometimes Dorian liked to pull back and watch me weep, particularly when my arms were spread wide in an embrace he would neither answer nor return. Embraces I could never complete while my wrists were tied to opposite bedposts. How badly I wanted to swipe at my tears of frustration as they ran down into my ears, all itchy, but of course I could not.
I was bound.
Then Dorian would start all over again, while I writhed, begging him to please, please, please let me finish.
Eventually, he would acquiesce.
As long as I did what I was told.
I remember.
‘And lilies are still lilies,
Pulled by smutty hands,
Though spotted from their white.’
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
‘You’re late, Lily.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. It was just –’
‘Tell me later.’ Gwen slipped her Charlie card into the slot and held the gate open for me, like we always did. Rebels. We pushed our way through the crowd, dashed down the dirty grey steps and waited for the next Orange Line to 4024 Boylston, home to Apollyon LLC.
Yep, that Apollyon. The fitness emporium that put SFX Incorporated out of business, not to mention taking down smaller equipment chains along the way. We have a chain of gyms along the East Coast, and a couple years back bought out Planet Fitness. Apollyon’s ruthless approach to finance – search, destroy and takeover – led us to be tagged the ‘Wal-Mart of Workout’ in Forbes’ January issue, which, rumour had it, had a negative impact on sales. Go fig. Owned by Holder Enterprises, some monstrous Dark Force of finance in Denver. Among many other things, I was a copywriter for the evil empire of exercise equipment. I also dabbled a bit in the PR department.
‘No more Patron, ever.’ I couldn’t stand tequila, anyway. ‘So much of never. Hangover, day two. Totally missed the first train.’
‘Get over it, and I apologise for the bitchy message. Obviously I overdisclosed to you on your very own life. My badness. Hey, what would you have done with Troy even if he had gone home with you?’ She smacked my arm. ‘Prude-y Princess. Lily-White.’
‘I’m not a prude.’ I glared at her. ‘Chastity is a choice. Why did I ever tell you, anyway?’
‘Good question.’
I knew exactly why. A few months prior Gwendolyn and I had an unfortunate conversation about the longest we’d gone without doing the nasty.
I won.
This is not a brag. Far from it. Just a fact. I made her swear never to mention ‘Father Gerald’ again to me, and she didn’t, though she was annoyed I’d kept him a secret for so long.
‘Are we really talking about my lack of a sex life at eight in the morning?’
‘Yes, except it’s eight thirty, and double-yes, your whole “celibacy is power” thing is creepy.’ Gwen glanced over at an older gent who appeared far too interested in our conversation. ‘You got something to say about it, Midlife Crisis?’
He averted his eyes.
‘We’ll discuss another time, Gwen.’ I ducked my head. ‘Like, say, never.’
‘That’s cool.’ She fiddled with her moonstone necklace. Gwen worked in graphic design and wore whatever the fuck she wanted. Over the past two years I had never once seen her in anything serious. Nor have I seen her without some sort of boyfriend on her arm, also never anything serious. She wore whatever the fuck she wanted, she fucked whatever the fuck she wanted as well. And yes, for the record, I was totally jealous. ‘Sorry, Lil.’
‘Forget it,’ I said, then pointed to a Boston Ballet poster hanging on the opposite wall. ‘Gwen! Oh, my word. The Sleeping Beauty. My all-time favourite.’
‘Of course it is.’ She glanced at her watch, then back at the poster. ‘So let’s go. Buy yourself a belated birthday present. I can be your plus one.’
‘I wish. Like I can afford.’
She pointed at the date. ‘Just started last weekend, and runs all summer. You can save.’
‘Broke as a joke. End of story.’
‘Hey, don’t I owe you a birthday present better than a two-day migraine?’ She gave my bicep a squeeze.
‘Gwen, you don’t get to buy me a ticket.’
‘Oh, shit. Run.’ She grabbed my arm, yanked me as the T rolled in, and we practically dived as the doors squeaked open, along with all the other tardies. Squish. A bunch of alewives, swimming upstream into Monday.
Gwen and I each grabbed a loop, staggering as the train sped away from the leftover people I always felt so sorry for. We fell silent, out of respect for the unspoken rule
