Muted Misadventures
Ignorance made her broken self dare
The echo of the silence stripped her bare
In silence the answers that came her way
Tied up her fate to a time so gray
Vienna
“Vi, wake up.”
The quakes intensified, fragmenting the last remaining pieces of my dreams.
My moan turned into a scream as I desperately fought to hold onto my body, crying in despair as the high receded, leaving behind its agitating after-effects.
“Hold on. Come back,” I called out to the stranger in my dream. “Who are you?”
“Vi, wake up!”
I ignored the voice calling me. I shoved the reality aside; I didn’t care what it said. All I wanted was him, the guy in my dreams. My body shuddered, reacting to the consequence of my arousal mixed with the horrific dread of losing this man forever. He was slipping away. I reached out frantically, as I hallucinated between dream and reality, fighting the pull of my consciousness running in the darkness, seeking his presence, straining to hear his voice, aching to feel his touch…
A chilled splash of water slapped me, cutting off my forming scream, erasing the last shades of my fantasy. I jerked up to a sitting position, rapidly blinking and fighting the bright glare of the light.
“Vi, what’s gotten into you? God, look at yourself.” Jason’s voice cut through my daze.
I wiped the water off my face, unwillingly accepting the loss of my dream, gulping down the cries that threatened to leave my mouth. Hazy surroundings started to take shape, bringing a hunched silhouette of someone whose gaze was locked onto my actions into focus. I blinked to see clearer, smoothing my tangled hair.
Jason’s eyes held frustration and barely contained anger. “What the hell were you dreaming about?”
There was an empty glass in one of his hands, while the other stayed on his hip. There was tension in his shoulders, and his entire body shook with a nervous energy.
“Goddamn it, Vi, answer me.”
My lips parted, but no words escaped. The last shards of the broken dreams disintegrated like dust specks, leaving nothing but a lingering taste of emptiness behind, my thoughts unwilling to untangle themselves. The sound of drilling outside distracted me, the hum of the vent calling for my attention. A dog barked in the next apartment, and I jumped as I remembered the bark from my dream.
“Vienna, look at me.” Jason grabbed my chin and lifted my face, forcing me to meet his eyes.
I blinked, finally registering him entirely. “Jason.”
“Yes, Jason. What happened to you?”
“I, uh,” I rummaged through my words, trying to find the right ones, but nothing came to the rescue.
“What the hell, Vienna?” Jason dropped his hand from my chin and ran his hands through his dark blond hair in frustration. “It’s clear you had a sex dream. I woke up to your screams, your moans. I mean, look at you.”
He gestured toward my chest, and I gasped at what I saw. I’d torn through my nightshirt; red scratches ran down my exposed breasts, clearly showcasing the tryst I’d had with myself. I instantly folded my hands over my small breasts, covering them in embarrassment. “Jason, I—”
“What’s going on with you? Please, tell me what’s going on in your head? Suddenly, I see a whole new side to you.”
“I don’t know, Jason. I don’t know.” I shook my head and looked down into my lap, locks of my curls falling to cover my face. Chaos ran rampant in my head, trying to piece back my sanity. I felt like I was going insane.
I couldn’t believe I was dreaming about sex. I never dreamed of sex—especially the kind I’d been about to have in my dream.
Jason and I had sex, but it was nothing like the experience I’d conjured in my head. Our connection was about comfort, ease, and softness.
We made love.
I’d dreamt about fucking.
They were entirely different.
Making love meant connection.
Fucking was instant gratification.
I craved connection.
This was so unlike me.
Is it?
A quiet question rose; I faltered at that thought.
A nagging memory of the dream came next, reminding me it was more than fucking. It had had intensity, passion, and deep-rooted connection, the kind that held within it the timelessness of times gone by. It was a connection so strong it tore through every barrier, fighting its right to be acknowledged.
“Vi, snap out of it! You’re zoning out. Talk to me, tell me what’s up with you.” The plea in his voice broke my heart.
Once again, his voice broke my introspection. He didn’t deserve this. I struggled to get up, my hands still covering my breasts, marked by a passion I’d never felt for Jason. Finding me fidgeting in my position, Jason walked to the closet and grabbed me another t-shirt.
“Thank you,” I whispered timidly, as I changed my shirt. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
He looked into my eyes, scaring me with his silence. He’d always been so animated and expressive. “Something’s off,” he finally said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s affecting us. I felt it yesterday for the first time in three years.”
My heart didn’t seem like it was beating. His words were pointing in a direction I wasn’t willing to venture into. “Jason, please, don’t.” I grabbed his hand and forced him to look at me.
He sighed. “I still can’t believe that was you screaming at me at the restaurant last night. It’s so not you. You never yell, and you definitely never had dreams where you… Fuck,” he swore, walking away from me.
“I need a breather. I’m going to make breakfast,” he said. “You get ready.” He walked out without waiting for my response.
His words stung. They held an underlying current of disappointment and anger. It was unlike Jason to be so hung up on a moment. Yesterday when he’d said he’d let it go, I’d believed him. And now nothing felt right.
A single note with my name lay on my dresser.
At Ryan’s.
Be back by midnight.
Jason
I stared at the note, hoping to banish the disquiet spreading in my heart. Jason had left. Once again, he’d gone before I got home on a Friday evening.
Unease and guilt painted my insecurity, cursing and coaxing me to visit the chasm of uncertainty.
Jason was altering our relationship. He was changing the course of our plans.
It had been over a week since my public outburst.
A week since the tone of our relationship had changed.
One week since Jason had had a decent conversation with me. Despite his claims that he’d already forgotten and moved on, his actions said something else.
He’d started to brood.
He’d started spending more time by himself, finding reasons to go for late evening bicycle laps and weekend get-togethers with his friends.
I hadn’t complained. I couldn’t face him and prod him for a justification. I didn’t feel I deserved that. So, instead of confrontation, I retracted. I turned inward, working even harder to resurrect my crumbling walls. I tried harder, stepped further into the land of the unpredictable and tried doing things that were way beyond the borders of my comfort. All to show Jason I’d meant it when I’d promised I’d make it up to him.
I undid the band holding my thick mass of curly hair, and absently set my purse beside the note in its rightful place. Next, I unclasped the diamond hoops my parents had gifted me for graduation. I straightened the slight mess I’d left on my dresser this morning, making sure things were correctly aligned. My mind wandered in far-off thoughts, doing its best to collect the control I seemed to be losing my grasp on. I grabbed my pajamas and headed for the shower.
It had been a busy week, and I needed to unwind and hopefully regain the balance in my life.
I turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up. Testing the temperature, I stepped in, sighing as the warmth washed over the ache running through my muscles. I’d been at my desk for twelve straight hours, working vigorously for the presentation next week, barely managing to walk past Jason’s office every time I walked to the washroom.
We worked together. In fact, it was at West Life Insurance we’d first met and started going out a month later. I’d been the newly appointed intern for the finance department, and Jason, a junior accountant on the fast track toward management. Three years later, I was the financial analyst and Jason the team lead for the accounting group.
The gentle flow of the water calmed my nerves. I closed my eyes and lifted my face. The water hit my facial contours, washing away the worry, the stress, and the remains of the day. Finally relaxed, I grabbed the body wash and loofah from its usual place and lathered my body. Making gentle circles on my tired skin, I cleaned off the dust of the day. My eyes remained closed, as I breathed in the silence that covered my thoughts.
I liked it.
I liked the nothingness.
I liked the distraction from my solicitude.
Thoughts of tomorrow, worries of repercussions, fear of losing control all slipped off my body. My mind became a clean canvas of blank space. I gently caressed my body, comforting it. The cascading flow of the water built a soothing oasis around me with gentle droplets.
I was swimming in a beautiful pool. Colorful mosaics created a whimsical pattern on the pool bed, dancing with joy, as I flipped to take another lap. Oodles of raindrops splashed in the water as I swam leisurely through its length. My ears filled with water, muffling all sound until there was only overdue calm. The muted splatter of the rain continued, creating an oddly soothing symphony. The drops merged with the crystal blue waters of the pool. A sparkle caught my attention. It twinkled brightly, sitting amidst the colorful splay of mosaic. It called me. Like a lone star in the blue evening sky, it shone in all its glory.
I dove deep into the depths of the pool, my hands longing to touch the glittering object.
The water became denser the deeper I went. Bubbles of breath left my body. The deeper I swam, the farther the object became.
The blues of the water turned the shade of the midnight sky.
My vision started to lose focus.
My lungs became heavy. It was getting harder to hold my breath.
But I couldn’t let go.
The pull of the glittering glamor was too strong.
It was all I could see now. Everything else was a dark blanket.
The raindrops became loud booms of panic around me. Gone was the wordless calm, the gentle nothingness of the moment. I was struggling but unwilling to quit. I wanted to get to that object; it held answers, I knew it. I just knew it.
I pushed harder, swam deeper, and lost more of my breath.
Water filled my lungs. I struggled to maintain consciousness. Panic roared through my blood. I was drowning. I wasn’t swimming anymore.
I screamed.
I splashed desperately, trying to swim up, hoping to grab something.
The sparkle of the object still tried to beckon me deeper.
I screamed louder, filling my lungs with more water. My eyes started to lose focus, my will to survive became weak.
This was it.
I was going to die.
Tears washed away in the water. I had no way out.
I gave up.
I surrendered.
I closed my eyes and waited to die.
Instead, I came alive.
Blazing hot lips ravaged me back to my senses. I shivered in heated arousal.
Senses awoke on overdrive, multiplying the surge of emotions spasming through my body.
I instantly became aware of my nakedness as a heavy hand brutally squeezed my aching breasts, strong thighs spread my legs, and a bulging erection pressed into my aching core. His teeth were deliciously merciless, ripping through my fragile skin, leaving behind marks. I fidgeted with building tension in my body, realizing my hands were captive in his singular grip as I leaned back into him, desperate for more.
My back screamed as his body pressed against mine as the roughness of what could only be the trunk of a big old tree scratched the thin layer of skin covering my spine. The dual sensations of mounting pain and pleasure made me tremble in anticipation.
I wanted more.
I wanted so much more.
I wanted him to fill me with his cock and fuck me into oblivion.
My body craved him like a drug.
Touch me.
Own me.
Fuck me, it screamed.
The ache in my core beseeched for his possession.
The gap between our bodies lusted for us to join. I turned.
My breasts slammed into his chest, my legs mustered the last remaining shreds of strength to wrap around his tight ass, drawing in his body to take me and break me.
He groaned, and my senses soared.
A nameless plea left my lips, a split second before he crushed his insatiable lips to mine.
I moaned.
He plunged into me without warning.
I screamed at the sheer ecstasy.
Finally, my mind chanted.
His fullness ruined me.
I relinquished my existence to him, to this moment, to the unashamed thrust of his cock into my famished core.
His hand held my own captive, using them as leverage to plunge deeper into my being.
We were cavernous, hungry, unadulterated animals.
Our bodies rose and fell in unison, our growls and grunts and moans created the most erotic symphony.
His smell infiltrated my mind with amorous sensations.
His touch scorched intangible marks of ownership on my body.
I was his to do with as he pleased, to destroy and remake to his whims.
And he was mine.
He was mine to ease my latent insatiability, to free me from my chains and push me to my erotic end.
My body carved into his aggressive dance, my sex clenching to hold onto his bulging girth. He was rampant; I was hungry. We were perfect.
He sucked between my collar bones, tickling me with his breath, adding another dimension to my already agitated sensations.
The déjà vu of the tempest rising once again started conjuring the storm.
His thrusts became torturous and feral.
The storm of passion became denser.
I climbed new heights, managing to break free from his hold and pull on his disarray of hair.
I needed an anchor.
I needed to hold on tight, right before I let go.
He grabbed my breasts, holding me firm, squeezing them brutally as he continued to take me higher.
He pinched my nipples with his thumbs in unison, and he almost pulled himself out, right before he thrust with all his force.
I bellowed, and I fell.
My orgasm was monumental.
I plummeted into ecstasy.
Falling, and falling, and falling.
It was wondrous.
Murderous.
Luscious.
It was the end of me.
The fireworks of emotions oozed through my body as liquid lava of lust, pulsating with pleasure and ecstasy.
The orchestra of my orgasm hit its final note, and my eyes opened on a sated sigh.
A lone star shone brightly in the night sky, winking at me.
It was the same glimmer I’d been chasing in the pool.
My gaze locked on the star, seeking the secrets it held.
The blinding darkness around me made it shine even brighter.
It shone to distract me.
It shone to entice me.
Hypnotized, I lifted my hand like a child seeking a star, wishing to catch it.
With utmost focus, I reached for it.
And it escaped, shooting through the sky.
I stumbled with shock.
I screamed.
I woke up.
Spurts of hot water pricked my skin as I blinked to realize I’d been captured by a dream.
I gasped for much-needed air. I panted, confused, when the stray body wash bottle brushed against my leg.
My back was flush against the shower wall I sat against, my legs spread wide.
Dread started to slowly seep through me as I realized where my hands were.
I gasped.
One hand stayed on my left breast, the fingers groping my pebbled nipple, while the other lay on my core. Two fingers were lodged deep into my sex, my thumb frozen on my clit.
I jerked my hand away like it was on fire, covering my mouth as the horror of what I’d just done passed through my body.
I stumbled in a state of shock, slipping as I tried to stand.
In a daze, I shut down the shower, and grabbed my towel to rub myself dry, still shaken by my indiscretion.
I walked out of the shower, unsure what had just happened. How the hell had I fallen asleep and then…?
Lingering snippets of my dream rushed back and forth, teasing me but not giving me answers.
I took deep breaths.
So you pleasured yourself. It’s okay. No big deal. It’s been over three weeks since you had sex, and you needed to unwind.
But that didn’t explain passing out the way I had…or the vivid dream I had while I’d…
Breathing in and out, I reached for my clothes on the counter.
My reflection made me heave with horror.
My breasts were bruised.
I’d scratched my skin once again. Marks of pinches and scratches marred my light brown skin.
My nipples were hard and erect, abused yet proud.
My lips were swollen and red.
I had a slight cut on my bottom lip from which a tiny trickle of blood was starting to ooze.
My sex throbbed with the residual sensations of my orgasm, my clit tender from my abuse.
What the hell was happening to me?