Murder House

by C. V. Hunt

  I said, “I guess this stuff would really enhance meditation.”

  “Among other things,” he replied.

  A roll of thunder shook the place.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by the statement but my mind warped it into something sexual. I became instantly aroused. I felt the futon shift as he put the wooden box back under it. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as if that would keep me from thinking about his erection or keep me from peeking to see if he was still aroused. My hand was on the futon beside me and I felt what I thought were his fingertips brush mine as he laid his hand by his side and leaned back. His finger twitched beside mine and there was no mistaking what was happening here. He did not move his hand so that it wasn’t touching mine.

  This was an invitation. I didn’t have to accept. I could ignore it and act oblivious. I’m sure Dan would pretend he meant nothing by it. But the spark of desire was pulsing within me. There was something alluring about Dan. I was certain it was the old cliché of mystery. There was a story behind the scars that called to me. There was pain there. Physical and mental. He had gone down a very fucked up and crooked path in life. One no one could ever understand. Just as no one could ever understand what it was like to deal with depression unless they’d walked that very same mile.

  I had to make an excruciating decision now. Get up and go home to a man I knew no longer loved me and didn’t seem to be remotely attracted to me anymore or stay here. I didn’t want to go home. What would Brent say if I came home high as fuck and with no money? I couldn’t imagine the argument that would follow and sure as hell didn’t want to do it while stoned. I could stay here and not do anything. Just talk. Just be friends with Dan or, better yet, let him be my boss. Nothing more. God, I was so high. And there was no reason to make any stupid decisions at the moment.

  For fuck’s sake. It was only his finger touching mine. Why was I making a huge deal out of it?

  Because you want him.

  Doesn’t matter. I’m in a relationship.

  Are you really though? Or are you just a convenience? Someone to bring home some money. Maybe a hole to fuck every once in a while.

  His fingers slowly slid the tiniest fraction over mine.

  Fuck, I thought. You know you can’t be friends with him. And remember . . . this is all your fault.

  I slid my hand from under his and slowly up his thigh. I opened my eyes to look at him. He had his eyes closed and his head leaned back. He opened his eyes and looked at me. His expression was indecipherable and each second felt like an eternity because of the pot. I began to panic. Maybe I’d misread his signals. Was I making an ass of myself? Maybe he wasn’t interested in an unemployed forty-year-old woman. Maybe he had better morals than I and wasn’t about to fuck a woman who he barely knew but knew well enough to know she was in a long-term relationship.

  All of that melted away when he leaned toward me and ran his hand in my hair to pull me into a kiss. I could taste the pot and metallic one hitter on his tongue. The rest happened quickly and violently. Both of our breathing became heavy as we kissed. I ran my hand over his stiff cock. He groaned and pushed his pelvis against my hand. I began to pull at his shirt but he grabbed my hand to stop me. I pulled at the tie strings of his linen pants. He ran his hand under my shirt and over my bra. He squeezed my breast hard and I yipped even though our mouths were still locked together.

  I broke from the kiss and almost ripped my shirt as I pulled it off and removed my bra. Dan began to suck on my nipples and bite them. My arousal soared and my cunt began to soak my panties. I tugged at his waistband again. He pulled my hands away from his pants.

  “Please,” I said.

  He unfastened my pants in response and pushed me to lie down on the futon. He pulled my pants and underwear off inside out and tossed them on the ground. He placed a hand on each of my knees to spread my legs. I tried to grab at his pants again.

  Whenever I got drunk and fucked the act of fucking seemed to sober me up. Not the case when I was high. It made me clumsy and slow and I never sobered up.

  Dan thwarted my efforts to disrobe him. He shot me a devious smile before he lowered himself to bury his face in my cunt. This definitely wasn’t his first time at the rodeo and it had been so long since I’d been the receiver of oral attention that my orgasm came quick and hit like an earthquake. I squeezed my thighs around his head to keep from smashing my pubic bone into his nose when I bucked from the first intense wave of orgasm. I couldn’t help but yell in ecstasy. The pot made every sensation more razor-sharp.

  When the orgasm subsided Dan rose to his knees and wiped at his mouth with his forearm. I flipped over and got to my hands and knees. Dan took no time lowering his pants now and entering me from behind. I reached between my legs and spanked my cunt hard as another sharp wave of pleasure soared though my body and I begged him to fuck me. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I couldn’t help but laugh. He fucked me furiously and shouted when he came.

  We both collapsed on the futon to catch our breath. After a few moments he pulled his pants up and retied the waistband. I grabbed my panties from the floor and slid them on to keep from leaving a wet spot on his futon. We lay there in silence for a few moments and I realized the music had stopped playing.

  This probably should’ve been the time I was flooded with regret. But I wasn’t. And the fact that I didn’t feel bad about being unfaithful to Brent sorta made me feel bad. The situation and my feelings were a hundred degrees of fucked up.

  He said, “What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t remember pot making me so horny.”

  He laughed. His laughter was contagious.

  SEVENTEEN

  I STILL WASN’T able to coax Dan out of his clothes when we had sex the second time. It was obvious he was self-conscious of the scars. I didn’t bring it up. Even in the aftermath when I lay against him and ran my hand over his chest and traced the scars through his shirt.

  Dan was aggressive and authoritative during sex which I didn’t mind. He knew what he wanted and he wasn’t afraid to tell me. I’d had enough of the other person only doing what needed to be done for them to get off and nothing else. The sex felt animalistic and as if he needed it to survive. I felt wanted and crucial.

  Neither of us brought up the obvious in the aftermath, that I’d cheated on Brent. It was something I would have to figure out on my own. And hadn’t I already made up my mind about leaving him before leaving the house. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to end it. It had to be quick. I wasn’t sure how long I could stay in the house after being unfaithful. It would eat at me. And there weren’t enough degrees of separation between Dan and Brent. I wasn’t exactly sure how Brent would deal with the separation. Brent had never been a jealous person and he’d made it painfully obvious he wasn’t interested in being with me anymore but the stress of change could make a rational person do stupid things. And asking Dan if I could move in shortly after fucking was jumping the gun a bit. I decided discussing Brent or moving would ruin the mood so I didn’t say much of anything. Dan remedied the awkwardness by choosing to show me where the cleaning supplies were once we got dressed.

  I figured we’d been downstairs long enough that the person who’d been meditating should’ve left by now. But when we reached the top of the stairs the door to the meditation room opened and a plump woman, who appeared to be in her seventies, emerged. She wore a long loose dress with a vague flower pattern. Her hair was long and she wore several beaded necklaces. She gave off a hippie vibe and smiled deviously at us as she descended the stairs.

  “Have a good session?” Dan said to her.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Sounded like the two of you had a good one too.”

  My face flushed and I could only imagine my horrified expression. I wished the mortification would sober me up but it didn’t. I was still high and at a loss for words. I wanted to run back down the stairs and hide but I turned to Dan for an answer. He suppressed a smile and looked
at the ground as he tried to hide his own embarrassment after being overheard.

  The woman laughed. “No need to be embarrassed.” She waved at us dismissively. “Sex is a natural thing. It’s also great medicine for stress and headaches.” Luckily she didn’t shower us with any more wisdom and retrieved her umbrella before stepping out in the rain.

  Dan took the steps two at a time and opened the door to check the meditation room. He descended the stairs and said, “We’re the only ones here.”

  “She heard us,” I said. It was the only thing I could think of to say.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I thought this place was soundproofed.”

  “The walls are. Not so much the floor or the ceiling of the basement.”

  I laughed and tried to suppress a fit of giggling.

  “What?” he said.

  “Just makes me feel like a teenager. Like getting high and covertly fucking in the basement when your parents are watching television upstairs or asleep. Guess we should’ve been quieter.”

  He smiled. “Guess so.” A beat of silence passed before he added, “Let me show you the office.”

  The rest of the night we went over the cleaning schedule and supplies. He showed me the office past the restrooms. It was small with a plain metal desk and the closet he promised. He helped me clean by spraying the pillows while I vacuumed the meditation room. When we were done cleaning for the night and the first few shades of sunlight were beginning to show we headed back to the office to put everything away. This led to another round of heated sex, this time on the desk. He took his time but I was so full of lust and the remnants of the pot made everything so intense that I came in no time.

  There was a bit of awkwardness when we finished. Neither one of us knew how to end the night. He eventually took a seat behind the desk. He opened one of the drawers and retrieved an olive-green metal box and set it on the desk before opening the lid. He began counting some money and I suddenly felt cheap.

  He held the money out to me. “Is a hundred enough for a day’s worth of work?”

  “I, um . . . I can’t take that.”

  He shook the money at me. “What are you talking about? You cleaned. This is your pay.”

  “It sorta makes me feel like a prostitute.”

  He set the money on the desk, rose, and came to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “Don’t ever think of yourself that way. And don’t ever think of me as the type of person who would pay for sex. I’ve been perfectly content with masturbation.”

  I snorted a laugh. The pot was almost entirely out of my system but it was still making me slaphappy. He smiled but forced a serious expression after.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “You helped me.”

  “It was orientation. I was showing you. Besides, I didn’t have anything else to do.”

  Before I could respond he grabbed the money off the desk, folded it, and crammed it into the front pocket of my jeans.

  “Don’t argue with me,” he said. He left his fingers in my pocket and pulled me toward him. He crushed out my protests by shoving his tongue into my mouth.

  I wanted to tell him no. I wanted him to take the money back. I was so happy and content around him and being paid for it felt a hundred shades of wrong. I wanted to remind him that the money wasn’t only for me but for Brent. I wasn’t comfortable with any of it but decided to let him have his way. And my arousal at his touch cleared all the bullshit from my brain and I couldn’t think of much other than fucking.

  Eventually he pulled away and I knew I had to go home. Dreaded home. He walked me to the door and watched as I pulled on my coat and left without another word. I put my hand in my pocket and found the peanut butter sandwich I’d forgotten to eat. I ate it while I walked through the rain, racking my brain for how I was going to deal with Brent.

  EIGHTEEN

  BRENT WAS STILL asleep when I arrived home. The bowl he’d been using as an ashtray was half full and the table was scattered with empty cigarette packs and ashes. The house smelled like a stale bar and I found several empty beer cans in the trash.

  I headed straight to the shower to clean off the sex and cleaning grime before placing the stopper in the tub and filling it with hot water. I reclined so that only my face was above the surface and closed my eyes. I mindfully began to relax all my muscles and tried to become weightless. The world became mute with my ears submerged in the water and all that I could make out for sure was the sound of my breathing. I began to walk through the steps to meditate, focusing on my breathing and keeping it in a steady rhythm.

  Reality began to fall further and further away as I sank into the void, looking for answers. How should I deal with Brent? Should I tell him I was leaving as soon as he wakes up? Should I wait until he finishes his book? If I left now where would I actually go? It would be presumptuous to show up at Dan’s door with what little possessions I had.

  This isn’t meditation. This is dwelling on the possibility of dreadful outcomes.

  I forced myself to clear my mind and float. I reveled in the contentment and afterglow of good sex. As much as I wanted to equate how I felt to a cat basking in the sunlight I actually felt more like a snake that had finished gorging itself. I wanted to curl up in a warm dark place and sleep for a few days, avoiding the inevitable turmoil ahead.

  As much as I tried to meditate I couldn’t focus and found myself replaying the sex I’d had with Dan over in my head. I grew aroused and masturbated before exiting the tub. I wrapped myself in a towel, slid on my shoes, and made my way to the bedroom. The storm had cooled the house considerably and I shivered as I climbed the stairs. Brent was snoring softly and for some reason the sound grated on my nerves. I hoped he woke up soon because I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to sleep with his snoring and honestly I didn’t want to share a bed with him.

  As quietly as I could I rummaged around in the closet and found a clean shirt, underwear, and pajama pants and pulled them on. I slipped into bed without disturbing Brent and surprisingly fell asleep within minutes.

  I dreamed I’d finally had enough money to go to a doctor. I told the doctor what prescriptions I took previously and described how I’d involuntarily stopped taking them since I didn’t have any money to refill them. The doctor listened to me the entire time with a smarmy expression and when I was done explaining everything they told me they weren’t going to write the prescription and it was all in my head. The dream took a hard left at that point and the doctor began to preform invasive tests that were completely unnecessary. He performed a pap smear and probed my anus, telling me my prostate was fine. I tried to fight the doctor off once he began to rub his erection against my ass but, like in most dreams, I was too weak to fight.

  I woke up sweating profusely and my heart was racing. The sun was trying its damnedest to break through the blanket I’d hung over the window. I had no idea what time it was but it appeared it had stopped raining. The confusion coming out of sleep was staggering and I thought the doctor was still trying to molest me but partially came to my senses and realized it was Brent rubbing his erection on my ass and groping my breast. The transition from the dream to waking left me foggy-headed and nothing from the night before came to mind.

  I scooted away from Brent, shut my eyes, and muttered, “I’m sleeping.”

  “Come on,” he said. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

  I buried my face in my pillow and groaned. Brent pulled at the waistband of my pajama pants and I smacked his hand away as the reality of what I had done with Dan came back to me.

  “Come on,” he whined.

  I turned to him and barked, “Would you leave me alone?!” I flipped back away from him.

  He cursed under his breath and flopped onto his back. A few seconds passed and the bed began to shake. I didn’t have to look to know what was happening. He was masturbating. I pulled the pillow over my head and wished he’d hurry up and finish so I could go back to sleep, or at l
east try to sleep.

  After a few minutes Brent grunted and the bed stopped shaking. Another minute passed and he finally got up and went downstairs. I got out of bed and shut the door so I wouldn’t hear him going about his day. Or at least the noise would be muffled. And I tried to get some more sleep because I knew I was going to have to tell Brent tonight that this was over.

  NINETEEN

  BRENT IGNORED ME when I entered the kitchen. I’d been in such a daze I’d forgotten to put on shoes before coming downstairs. My teeth were still grimy from sleep and I could only imagine what my hair looked like. Not that any of that mattered. I didn’t need to be presentable for the conversation I was about to have and I wanted to get it out of the way.

  Brent was preoccupied with staring at his laptop. His expression was blank and he appeared lost in thought. It was the first time I’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes and it appeared he may have lost some weight. It made me feel a bit guilty. I’d been so wrapped up in my own bullshit I’d failed to pay attention to Brent. He was usually neglectful of his hygiene when he was pressed by a deadline but it looked as though his health was taking a toll this time. I imagined the chain smoking and binge drinking had a little to do with his appearance. I took a seat across from him and waited for him to acknowledge me.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  He gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “We’re over. I thought about waiting until you’d completed the book, afraid the emotional toll would affect your writing. But I’m pretty sure you don’t give a shit about me and haven’t for a while so you’ll probably find this as a relief.”

  Even though I knew he didn’t care I was expecting some sort of reaction. Anger maybe? Or possibly an apology. It didn’t matter. I had made up my mind and I tensed for some type of reaction but it never came.