by Emma Janson
His response was one of shock. “Wow, a thirty-two-year-old virgin!” He’d had no idea. His large brown eyes looked worried and intense as he sipped his imported beer.
Belinda was finally happy with where this seemed to be going, and saw hope of continuing her femme fatale relationship with the maid.
The boyfriend took another rushed drink of his beer in the kitchen with perplexed, scrunched eyebrows and a worry that showed in the wrinkles in his forehead. “She’s waiting for the right guy. Am I right?”
Belinda was smug as she adjusted his tie in a hidden attempt to seduce him while nodding her head yes as her blonde, cascading hair bounced against the middle of her back.
“Well, I waited until I was twenty-seven and then I married the love of my life. When she died, I never thought I would share that with anyone again – you know, being in my thirties now. Thanks for telling me. I have a whole new respect for her.” He patted the top of Belinda’s shoulder like someone would pat the head of a dog and then walked to the living room, where the maid stood with the landscaper, his fiancé, and Tom, who was prepping everyone to toast.
Alone, Belinda was left to sulk in the kitchen over her defeated plans of sabotage. She didn’t want to join the festivities, and pouted for a while before finally leaning against the archway while she watched everyone laughing with holiday spirit. Her green dress sparkled as her arms crossed over her buxom chest and she peered upon the group that was beginning to huddle around Tom’s huge, lovely black piano. Her uncle waved her over to have a drink before he played a few merry tunes on it, like he was hosting a scene in some 1980s chick flick where everyone sported turtlenecks and bad Christmas sweaters.
Bitterly, Belinda forced herself to join the party and, once she was tipsy enough to forget her anger, she was finally able to have a wonderful time. Her new stress, however, was that she wouldn’t be able to see the cheating shrink until after the new year, and with apparent love in the staff’s air, she would also lose out on four sex days a week with the transsexual and the virgin. All her control was once again being taken from her.
Frustrated, she felt that the only thing to do was to turn to her uncle – not for help, but for sex. With her moral compass completely gone, she didn’t even wait until the guests were out of the home before she attempted to seduce him in the hall. In fact, they were still refilling their glasses and emptying their bladders between jovial bouts of genuine and drunken laughter. Tom, of course, was completely horrified with his niece’s vulgar actions. He immediately locked himself in his study and called in some big favors, to not disturb the guests. Within hours, on Christmas Eve, Belinda found herself in the back seat of a white limousine that was headed to a nut house upstate. Her instructions were to admit herself, and to know that the bills would be taken care of; it was as simple as that. She was being given no other choice and, with nowhere else to go, she did what was asked of her.
However, as bad as everything had been and how out of control it was all becoming, she did not feel that it was worthy of institutionalization – because mental instability had become her normal. She had only ever known OCD, and then recently the generous leap to sexual addiction.
At Northern Lights, as a result, she fought treatment...but after a month or so, she became accustomed to the cleanliness and the structure of “established” life – as she called it. Falling in love with another patient helped her transition, too, even if it was with the alter persona of a man struggling with multiple personality disorder; otherwise, she would have left. Beyond the love, though, for the first time, Belinda felt a sense of peace at Northern Lights, and so she didn’t exactly want to leave it or the love of her life.
But then the Mexican arrived, and there was something about him that stirred things up in the facility and in her loins.
DISTRACTIONS
During his first night at Northern Lights, Ignacio did not notice the automatic dimming that the black orderly had explained would happen at ten o’clock. He was entirely too exhausted from the drive and had barely had enough energy to brush his teeth, let alone observe any gentle dimming of lights. In fact, after an odd interruption from Belinda – who smelled of sex with an odd hint of strawberries – he fell asleep on the bed in the brightly lit room, completely clothed. His second night at Northern Lights, he did notice the dimming as he prepared for bed, once again exhausted from his eventful day of intake therapy and scheduled mealtimes, but the dimming was actually calming. His pants and shirt hung on the fixed hangers to air out for another day’s wear while his crumpled underwear lay sadly on the floor near his foul-smelling tennis shoes. As he walked into the room, though, he noted to himself that although it wasn’t exactly tidy, it was better than his grandmother’s massive clutter.
He shut the door behind him and then ran and jumped onto the mattress like a child before settling happily between the clean sheets. It had been somewhat stressful, getting to know the layout of the huge mansion and attending his first mandatory group counseling session, which had clarified some of the true colors of the clientele in the building – they were crazy, and obviously there for legit mental disabilities. This conclusion had come to him after his witnessing of the Bible-thumping Mrs. Koontz shoving gum foil into her mouth until she nearly suffocated before their afternoon lunch. He felt guilty when he thought about his own faked mental state, compared to the truly debilitating disorders of the others, and how, for years, he had manipulated the system into paying his way through life, for the rest of his life. But the guilt quickly faded, and he was soon enough smug with warmth at the genius idea as the second iteration of dimming lights calmed the room; once again, it proved itself a wonderfully relaxing change from his Abuela’s humble and yet hoarded home.
The price of his comfort seemed to be relinquishing sanity and reason, a few times per year, to keep money coming in. The additional self-admitted ‘vacation’ in an institution solidified his supposed mental state, so far as he saw things. He shrugged off any worries when he thought of how simple his plan was.
Although his ultimate goal was to find his mother, who’d reasonably enough been institutionalized after insanely trying to kill her entire family, this place offered him a break from his search and a break from meager means. The years of lies, faking symptoms, and acting his way through tears and bursts of anger were being rewarded, in a sense, with automatically dimming lights in a mansion surrounded by a beautiful vineyard, and so it was totally worth it. Even though his antics and thoughts had blossomed from a genuine concern, he was now proud of his endeavors and his so-called hard work to get to this point. He wondered if his mother was in a place as nice as this now, and even giggled at the thought that she, too, could have faked it all to gain the luxuries she’d never before been provided.
Ignacio shook thoughts of his mother out of his mind. He ran his hands and fingers over his brown skin and down his tight abdominals under the 800 count sheets with the thought of pleasuring himself. He certainly felt comfortable enough. Verified by the welcome packet on his bed, he knew that he could orgasm anywhere in the room and the government checks would pay to have Northern Lights staff clean it. He smiled, which pushed the dimples in his cheeks inward as he began to stroke his genitals.
A few seconds into the process, though, he jumped when an unexpected knock at his door startled him. He threw off the blankets and grabbed a pillow to cover his naked middle as he scurried to the door. Back home, there was a nearby baseball bat for such unexpected visitors as could show up in Abuela’s shady neighborhood, but here there wasn’t even a peephole through which he could inspect the hallway. Carefully, with the pillow covering his private parts, he cracked the door open with a foot wedged at the bottom. Habitual routines were unnecessary, but the foot wedge seemed appropriate.
He blinked profusely as the light from the hallway stabbing at his pupils. “Yeah?” he asked quietly, squinting one eye as if this would help him see the uninvited guest.
Her voice
was sort of high-pitched and annoying, but strangely seductive when it came, though he wouldn’t have thought the qualities could all go together if asked. “Belinda Jane, remember me? You can call me B.J. if you want. Can I come in for a second?”
She stood in the hallway wearing a long grey terrycloth robe, red flip-flops, and a towel around her hair that smelled of fresh strawberry shampoo. Without the makeup and fresh sex smell surrounding her, she was much prettier than he remembered from their first encounter. Her blue eyes batted at him and then looked down the hall to check for unwanted witnesses. When it was clear there were none, she flashed open her robe to expose perky pink nipples surrounded by flawless alabaster skin. She’d fashioned nipple adornments from re-shaped paperclips that linked in a chain across the center of her chest. Before Ignacio’s eyes could peer elsewhere, she closed the robe. He felt his erection press uncomfortably against the pillow, but didn’t exactly know how to handle the situation. As a man, the answer was to pull her inside, but as an insane man, he needed to think of his money and why he was really there.
“You better go,” he said, hesitantly.
Belinda pushed at the door before he could close it, which threw him off-balance. She was a quick little devil. While he was stumbling backward, she slid into room 19 without his permission and witnessed the pillow accidently falling from his grasp. Naked and vulnerable, he regained his balance against the wall as Belinda stood in awe of his never-before-seen, fit physique wrapped in Mexican brown skin. The glow of light made them both look as if they were covered in amber warmth. As she pushed the damp towel surrounding her head to the floor, she kicked off the cheap shower shoes she’d worn and dropped her robe in one seamless motion.
Ignacio immediately grabbed his exposed body, which was swelling to full capacity. He watched the bombshell before him slowly back into the wall on the opposite side of the room, with slow, slinking steps, as the paperclips shined and glimmered in the ever-dimming light. It was obvious that her backward steps were intentional and calculated to sway her chest just right so that the crafted adornments shown like laced platinum. Once she was up against the wall, he could see her groomed pubic hair glistening with wet excitement. She stood there then, waiting for him to make the first move as if she was shy.
Trying desperately at first to cover himself, he finally gave up to let her see just what she was getting herself into by being in his room. It was almost a last chance warning, but it backfired. Impressed, she exhaled with choppy releases of air. Her blue eyes widened with anticipation before she regained her wind and continued breathing deeply enough to fill her lungs to full capacity. The two of them stood in animalistic form, ready to attack. To facilitate the mating decision, she tugged at the makeshift jewelry. It stretched her nipples as she pulled at the linking paperclips with her thumb. “I can smell your erection,” she said confidently. “The cameras in the hallway are on rotation. It’s an old system – go figure. What kind of damage do you want to do before they scan this hallway again?”
As she asked the question, she gently swayed her hips left and right. She released the link to let the paperclip chain dangle freely between her breasts.
Ignacio could no longer look a gift horse in the mouth and push it away. He needed to be a man. He reached across the space between them to grab the chain. He ripped it quickly from her delicate skin. It pinched sharply at her nipples, but only offered short-lived pain. He lunged forward and spun her around by the shoulders as he pushed her face against the wallpaper. This position forced her into a submissive arch, but she knew how to angle herself to appease him. Her long, wet hair sprayed across her back while other strands hung at her face and slapped at the wall. She tried to be quiet as she felt him touch her backside, but moaned and prepared herself for whatever he was going to do.
Ignacio couldn’t look her in the face, so he pushed his tip between her clean buttocks as he held her neck. With his other hand, he wrestled with his manhood and masturbated with its tip buried comfortably between her cheeks. He made sure, however, to never enter her body. He’d always had trouble finishing and, although this embarrassed him, it made for interesting sex. She tried to push herself onto him, but he deflected with his strong arms by holding her back.
His hand slapped at the bottom of her skin with each stroke. She could feel him swell before his orgasm finally erupted. She exhaled hard enough to produce moisture on the wallpaper. Then he released the pressure to her neck in order to smear his fluid on the backs of her legs. Her body rocked back and forth in a perceived shared orgasm.
Ignacio smelled her strawberry-scented shampoo again before he told her to never visit him again. She couldn’t respond verbally as she tried to calm herself, so Ignacio spun her around and asked her politely to pick up her things. She simply did what had been instructed of her without question. “I’m here to get help and you are a distraction. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
On the floor to collect her balled-up towel, she looked up immediately to display her pink tongue as instructed. She felt a wet oozing down the sensitive inner part of her thigh as he spoke, and he wiped the tip of himself down the center of her tongue as he squeezed the last of his orgasm out. He grabbed the towel that held the scent of her shampoo and untwisted it while Belinda remained on her knees with her tongue hanging out. He helped her stand to her feet then and gently wrapped her in the robe with his orgasm still between her cheeks. Like a gentleman, he knelt to help her into her cheap flip-flops while she used his shoulders for balance. When he stood again, Belinda was still completely silenced by the bizarre way this adventure had panned out, and still savoring the taste of him.
“Don’t distract me again.” He looked into her stunned blue eyes and shook his head yes to show her that it was okay for her to respond. Belinda shook her own head yes as her tongue wiggled and flicked at the roof of her mouth. She shuffled out of his room a different woman. The powerful temptress of seduction had been duped for the first time.
Ignacio closed the door quietly and didn’t bother to watch her shuffle four doors down to her own room. Instead, he leaned against the inside of his door while rubbing at the stubble on his face and laughing to himself. The way he saw it, the state had basically paid for that sex-capade to happen. Quietly, he repeated ‘I’m the man’ over and over again as he danced a jig from the door to the bed, where he wiped himself off onto the underside of his comforter – knowing full well that the staff would change his bedding tomorrow. Then he randomly assigned notes to made-up lyrics as he sang aloud while tucking himself under the blankets.
I get money. From the government.
Bitches lick my dick. Don’t get a cent.
Blame it on my mom. Crazy Juana, no?
Was she really loca? Nobody knows.
Why’d she start the fire? With her other hoes?
Who cares? I’m on vacation, fucking blonde buttholes.
The automatic lights, finally on their last iteration of the night, dimmed to a soft candle-glow as he massaged his testicles and fell asleep as happy as he could possibly be.
*****
In the morning, Ignacio was abruptly awoken by the big black orderly, who flung the door open and rushed through the doorway in a panic. Buck was breathing heavy while his eyes darted all over the automatically lit room. His deep yet sweet Darth Vader voice boomed into the quiet space. “Mr. Cheese, are you okay?” The southern accent smoothed over each bass note.
Groggy but perfectly fine, Ignacio sat up in his bed to answer the man while he rubbed at his eyes as they kept adjusting to the sudden scare. “I’m good. What happened?” His voice popped and sounded rough with sleep.
“Well, Mr. Cheese, you missed breakfast, and your first individual appointment with the doctor! Charlotte practically beat down your door when you didn’t answer. Lord, you are lucky she is new here.” Buck trailed off to reset his tone, then put his hand on his hip before his anger escalated to a point of no return. “What do
you have to say for yourself?” he asked, the chap stick on his thick lips glistening gently under the lights.
“Listen, man, I guess I just slept in. I’m sorry.” Ignacio wiped some crust away from the corner of his eye and yawned.
“Well, sir, shower up. In case ya’ll didn’t read your information packet, today is open admittance. The one day of the week we open our doors to the public. Charlotte can reschedule your individual session for this afternoon.” Just as Buck was about to walk out of the room, he turned to inhale intentionally. His nostrils flared open to deeply inhale in the strawberry scent that, although faded, was still there. “Lord Jesus. I hope your visit last night was brief and uneventful. If Mr. Samuel catches wind that your room smells like out of season fruit, I won’t be able to call security fast enough! You hear me?” His eyes bulged to emphasize the seriousness of his statement.
Ignacio scrunched his eyebrows and refrained from saying anything that could get him into trouble. Suddenly, he felt like a child. “Got it. Thank you. Oh, and it’s Cheyez. I just...well, you keep calling me Mr. Cheese, and its Chay-yez,” he politely corrected from his bed.
“Mmm hmm, that’s what I said.” The orderly closed the door behind him and called the front desk to report his findings to Lydia. Ignacio heard him tell her that the situation was under control, just beyond the door, and that she should put another note in Belinda’s file, whatever that meant.
As he got out of bed completely naked, Ignacio couldn’t decide if Buck was being sarcastic or was genuinely confused about his last name. The southern accent of the orderly seemed to level anything negative he may have meant, but...well, c’est la vie, a new day had begun, and Ignacio was anxious to visit the showers.
