Alicia's Misfortune

by S. Silver

  She was shivering and shaking all at once and didn’t miss a single second of it. He was staring at her, with his dark brown eyes, so intently that she felt like he could read her mind. He was an obstruction stuck in the middle of her path to righteousness. “I—

  “I’ll see you tonight.” He turned around and walked away. She couldn’t watch. She tried to move her eyes up, to the right or to the left, anything to keep her from looking at him walk away.

  I must avoid temptation, she thought. I must avoid temptation.

  Over and over she repeated her silent mantra as she made her way to the checkout line. She paid the meager sum and carefully placed the change in her hem purse. She had little control over her thoughts. She was off in a different world, where her body could intertwine with another’s and she could capture his breath with her lips. His mouth could linger where it shouldn’t.

  I must avoid temptation.

  She could be sheltered in those muscular arm where she would be safe and warm. She could feel him inside of her.

  I must avoid temptation.

  She wondered what it would be like to have a man overtake her completely, finally giving in and letting the dam break. She knew that there was pleasure out there, pleasure she couldn’t even imagine.

  She made her way out the door and he was standing there to the right with a cigarette in his hand and the other in his pockets. He was a demon, come to take her away from the path of righteousness with his sheer masculine beauty.

  She tried not to look when he grabbed that place and smiled at her. She didn’t want to see that bulge that could move her in ways that she never thought possible. Instead she kept walking and he laughed again, while moved behind her like some infernal phantom.

  He got on his bike with his eyes never leaving her form and when the thunderous engine sounded she jumped. He could show her that pleasure, but she couldn’t let him regardless of the liquid dripping down her legs or the pressure building just below the surface. She didn’t want to see the images, the moments of passion pulsing through her mind, but they wouldn’t stop—she couldn’t allow them to stop.

  Instead, she just kept walking down the street, trying to keep her eyes open because every single time she did, his cocky smile was staring back at her. What did he mean that he’d see her tonight? That was the scariest part—the biggest thrill.

  This was fantasy, and nothing more. He didn’t really want her, the mousy girl that didn’t fit in. She was too strange. She didn’t talk like everyone else. All of her clothes were homemade and her hair didn’t have any color in it. She never wore makeup—he mother forbade it. She was to dress as plainly as possible, and that was why her mother made all of her clothes. She didn’t wear color, like the other girls—vanity was the greatest of all evils. Instead, she wore drab grays, black and whites. She was allowed some color, like pale blues and navy, but what little she did wear only added to the effect. He didn’t want her. If he wanted anything, he wanted to hurt her.

  They always hurt her. One day, when she was in high school, her locker was covered in dark red sludge saying, ‘Virgin Marie.” There was disgusting smell coming from it and inside she found dirty pads, covered in blood and filth.

  She was the Virgin Marie to him. She wasn’t the kind of girl that he wanted. He was the kind of girl he hated, because she wouldn’t give it up. She wouldn’t do it, no matter how hard it would be resist the assault to her senses. She was determined. She knew that in the end, she would get past this.

  When she finally arrived at home, the safety of the yellow lights peeking through the thin curtains put things in perspective. She couldn’t be hurt by him, and temptation didn’t enter her sanctuary.

  “Marie, is that you?” She heard her mother’s voice calling from the kitchen.

  “Yes, mama.” She walked in to find the smell of boiling spinach and potatoes reminding her just how hungry she was. She handed the butter and eggs over to her mother and they began the process of dredging the chicken and getting it ready to fry.

  “Did everything go OK?”

  Marie looked down. She didn’t want her mother to see it inside of her, that growing ball of lust. She knew she could anyways. She saw everything. “Yes, Mama,” her mother didn’t look convinced. She dropped what she was doing and rushed around the counter to the kitchen table where she was standing.

  Marie felt bony fingers grab her chin and pull her face up with the force of a lion. Her cold eyes were searching Marie, staring through her and trying to find the source of her obvious indiscretion. Her mother had never seemed so menacing before. “What happened,” she quipped.

  “Nothing happened, Mama.” When she lied she was stabbing her mother in the heart and by the way she cocked her head, her mother knew she’d done it.

  Her hand shot up so quick, Marie didn’t know she’d been slapped till she felt the sting on her face and saw the dots on her eyes. “One more time, child.”

  “This bo—

  “BOY!?”

  “He ran after me in the stre—

  “You tempted somebody, you filthy creature.” Phyllis spat in her face, and Marie could feel the tears falling down her face, like the pleas of a child.

  “Mama, I didn’t tempt anybody.”

  “It’s your fault. You’ve done something terrible. Now, go to your room, and we will speak about this later. Think about what you’ve done.” Phyllis turned around and went back into the kitchen. Her limp made her even more menacing, as though the woman were a monster trying to hide its true form.

  She was an adult being told to go to her room, and the irony of it wasn’t lost on her for a second as she slowly made her way to the second door on the right to her sparsely furnished sanctuary, which was to be vacuumed, morning and night, with the sheets washed daily. She hated her mother, she had for a long time. She loved her in the sort of sentimental way that every child loves their parents, but she would rather see the woman burn than stay a second longer with her in this house. She shouldn’t be bound here by the hateful woman. She should be out exploring the world and enjoying her surroundings. She should be starting her life, but her mother didn’t think it was right for a girl to leave home until after she was married. How would she get married, though, if she wasn’t allowed to talk to boys, and she wasn’t allowed to wear good clothes?

  She could be modest and still wear things that were nice. She could live purely and still talk to men. She knew what her mother was trying to avoid, and she understood, but she didn’t think it should be like this every single time a boy talked to her.

  Life should be easy. Instead, she was being stretched thin trying to adhere to her mother’s strict moral code. She laid down on her hard, cheap mattress and dug her head into her pillow. That was her one escape, the place where she could find some comfort, then when she got up, she would have to make the bed and be sure there weren’t any wrinkles on it.

  The sound of that bike haunted her. It was like the hounds of hell howling. She wondered what it would be like to have her arms around him and ride past this terrible place. She was going to leave if she could. She could still pure and live somewhere else. She didn’t have to be like her mother.

  Chapter 3

  A bony finger slammed in the back of her shoulder blade, and Marie turned around to see her mother with her sharp eyes staring down at her. “Go wash your hands.”

  Marie sighed drowsily and responded, “Alright.”

  Her mother turned around and closed the door softly. She was quick to get out of the room. She sat up and looked around. It was completely dark outside. She got up slowly and ran her head over the covers to be sure that it didn’t have any wrinkles on it. When she was done, she padded out of her room and over to the bathroom. She splashed some water on her face and looked in the mirror. She was too ugly. She’d have to make it on her own. No man would ever want her.

  She walked into the dining room to see the table already set with a water jug and a bowl of mashed potatoes in the ce
nter and three pieces of her mother’s fried chicken on her plate. Her mother stared up at her from the counter, where she was scrubbing and sighed. ‘Well, are you gonna sit down? I have to get back to my sewing. I’m trying to mend that church dress of yours.”

  “Yes, Mama.” She said those words at least three thousand times a day.

  Dinner was silent for the most part until they had finished up and her mother stared at her. She had her lowered. She didn’t want to meet her gaze again. “I want you to speak with Pastor Graham in the morning.”

  “I have class in the morning.”

  Phyllis was out of her chair in an instant with her head so close to Marie’s that the girl could smell her peppermint mouthwash as if it were a knife stabbing into her. “You’re gonna put CLASS over your soul, child?”

  “I’m sure my soul will be fine. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Her mother stood her up with surprising force and turned her around. She pushed Marie to the ground saying, “You’re gonna learn.” Her voice was calm. She didn’t care what she was doing to the girl, and that in itself was worse than any punishment that Marie could suffer. “Go to your room!” Her voice seemed to shake the walls.

  “Mama, please! Mama, don’t.” Marie slammed her to the ground and onto her hands and knees. Marie was screaming. “Please, Mama.” She turned around and tried to grab onto her Mother’s leg. Phyllis just kicked her off and turned her around. Marie knew what she had to do. She didn’t like it. It was the worst thing that could possibly happen. She hated her mother.

  “You will not defy me!” She kicked Marie in the butt and the girl crawled to the second door on the right. She fell against her bedroom door. “Now, you stay put until you agree to do what is right.”

  Marie heard the sound of the lock turning. “Let me out!” She banged on the door, like a caged animal trying to be released from its cage. She was screaming and pleading with tears streaming down her eyes. She was an animal, and nothing more. She wasn’t a real person. She was locked in this, and locked in this house, and she would die there.

  When she went to her bed, and looked at the cross above her headboard, she thought about the sacrifice she was making. She could be a real person, but her mother wouldn’t let her. She should leave. She thought of the open window in front of her with its thin white curtains blowing in the wind. She could climb out, and she could go, but what would she do? She didn’t know how to take care of herself. Mama did everything for her. She worked, she paid the bills, and she made sure she had food. She’d be eaten alive by the wild animals as soon as she left. The only thing she could do was wait and sleep.

  The dark man was dangerous and tender. He had the smile a smile that would pull you in even if you didn’t want it too. His lips were so soft and big. His puppy dog face would melt instantly, and she could bask in its sweetness for the rest of her life. She opened her eyes and thought she saw a dark form behind the waving white curtains, and in the moonlight it moved, fast like a tiger. Suddenly, he was there standing over her bed, and she wanted him to make her scream.

  “I said I’d come.” He could shake the house with his deep voice.

  “Are you real?” His breath was real, like fire caressing his face as he walked over and bent down with those seductive lips moving towards hers.

  “Can I kiss you?” The power of those words shattered her entire reality.

  “No.” His lips slammed against hers and her hand moved around over the back of his neck. His skin was so soft. She couldn’t give in. She couldn’t allow it. He was evil. Hi hair was soft against her face. His eyes spelled sin and temptation. He was lust incarnate, the very embodiment of satisfaction addiction. She was penetrated by his tongue and her soft gasp gave her goosebumps.

  “Is this OK?” He moved his mouth lower to her neck where his teeth nibble softly just below her ear. He stroked her chin and she tried to move, but she couldn’t. His power had such a firm grip on her that she knew she had to let go, but she couldn’t. She had to fight it. His teeth sank in and he growled, like an incubus ready to steal her soul.

  “Yes!” She tried not to scream but she couldn’t help it. That was when he pinched her nipple and her entire body was ablaze with flame, and that sickeningly sweet sensation, she felt whispers of began in between her thighs and her throat caught her screams. Her shirt was off in one fell swoop and she was naked. He lifted up and she could see the coffee and cream color of his magnificent appear as he smiled down at her and slowly peeled of his shirt.

  “You’re so sexy,” he whispered as he ran his fingers around the outline of her nipple. She was being enveloped by dark desire, fire that burned through her and overcame her senses and her composure. She reached up and pulled him down into her lips and shoved her tongue down her throat. She found his pants instinctively and shoved her hand down to feel the one thing that she should never touch. She rubbed against the smooth shaft and caressed the hard beef that lay beneath the surfaced. His soft moans were war cries that serenaded her increasing passion.

  He reached down and rubbed his fingers along the top seams of her panties and she could feel the fluid, fueled by a stream of bliss, squirting out and staining the sheets. “Can I touch you,” he asked tenderly as he bent down towards her ear and nibbled on her earlobe.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He ripped her panties off like a bolt of lightning, reared and up she could see the outline of his bush as his tight pants moved down slowly. He flicked her nipple, sending ripples through her temple. He unbuttoned his pants just a bit and she threw back her head as his flinger circled slowly around her lips, like little bolts of electricity. When she looked up, it was there in all of its glory. His infernal cock was bigger than she could possibly imagined, and as thick as her arm. Their eyes met and the flash the shot between them was a match that lit a bonfire that moved up into her most private place and shook the doors. His finger was moving closer and she was gasping. It slowly ran up to the clit and the explosion that ensued was like a dam breaking and sending rippling shockwaves throughout her entire body, drenching the sheets and his finger.

  He ran his cock slowly along her lips and with their eyes locked together then he bent down his lips slowly touched hers. He was soft when he moved his cock to the center. He moved his tongue sweetly along her lips, then he pulled out and said, “This is going to hurt.”

  Then he rammed into her with the force of a bullet piercing its victim and he had to use a pillow to muffle her blood curdling screams as he tore her veil and she feel his cock move through her penetrating every inch of her body and mind. “It’s OK. Don’t wake her.”

  He moved the pillow and bit her lip. The pain was going away and she was slipping into an oblivious ecstasy. All that existed was his sweet kiss, his eyes and that cock that drilled her so relentlessly that she felt like couldn’t stand it. The overwhelming, screaming pain and pleasure burned through her, and mixed with his deep growls that sent shivers all over her naked flesh. It was unholy communion of the highest form the way they moved in the pagan dance.

  Once the fire was set it grew higher and higher with each and every thrust. Her explosions started co0ming one after the other as if she were convulsing from the force of them. He going faster and faster, making a smacking sound with the way he pushed in and out. That man was a dark god of sexuality and he was about to possess her as that explosion that would end all explosion surged through her and he slammed her that one last time. They both screamed as their bodies were crushed by the shockwave of pleasure and nectar that mixed harmoniously.

  When he crashed down on top of her, she felt the full force of his power. He didn’t slip out. Neither of them wanted to. They wanted to look into each other’s eyes and discover each other’s bodies.

  “I’ve never loved like that before,” the boy whispered excitedly.

  “What’s your name?” She realized that she barely even knew the man. She’d seen his around town, but she didn’t have any idea who he was.

 
“Drake. I know you. Everyone knows you.”

  Marie was sad now. She didn’t like that she was cause for gossip. She had to know what this was, that it wasn’t all in vain. “Why did you come here?’

  “Marie, how could say that? I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time. You’re not ugly. A lot of guys want you.”

  “But you’re the one that I want.”

  “And, honestly, I want you too.”

  “You have to go. She’ll shoot you.” He got up and started pacing around.

  “I’ll take you out of here. We can get our own place.”

  It was too soon, but it was sweet release, and this man was everything she knew she’d wanted. Her mother had been so terribly wrong. It was a beautiful thing, and it was good. “Alright, but let me get things setup first. I have to say goodbye, and I go to college, and I need to keep that going.

  “Of course. Can I stay a while and hold you.”

  “You have to.” To be sheltered in the arms of the man greater than any rapture she had ever known. He sat up in the bed and she fell easily onto his chest, where his breath caressed her. It smelled like vanilla cigars. Their bodies bathed in the moonlight as his hand moved up and down across her belly. They were big and powerful. He could keep her safe, and he would.

  Chapter 4

  The note on her pillow smelled like him. She held it to her face before reading it, savoring the knowledge that it wasn’t a dream. He had crept into her window last night and changed her world.

  She wasn’t evil for tempting a man because it had been the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to her. It was sweet release from her prison, which she realized had been completely mental. She could’ve left, but it was her guilt that was keeping her there. She could’ve made it. She was smart, but she’d been taught to hate the world.

  Now that she’d had a taste of it, she couldn’t stay. She needed to live, and this simply wasn’t living. This was a nightmare based up on one demented woman’s beliefs and fears.