Under Purple Sheets

by Coco Houston

  “Nope!” I reply. I get in the car. Driving on the way back, he keeps on glancing at me in his mirror, looking at me back and forth with a look of wonderment in his expression. I think he is confusing himself more than he already was, as mostly I think he is trying to work out what happened to the fucking quilt.

  Later that day, when I am downtown, when I am in an exclusive chocolate shop buying Gucci candy, Brad phones. I listen to him half-heartedly as he rambles on about how much he misses me. I hardly answer him or can even be bothered to listen to his shit, so I just hang up on him. Seconds later he phones me back. “You don’t want me to come back, do you, Coco?” he questions me, to which I gave no reply. I disconnect the call.

  Honestly, at this point, I have no answer for him. Perhaps due to the fact that by now I do not really care that much whether he comes back or not, or maybe it is because I am planning on leaving him the next day anyway.

  He calls me again. This time he is begging to come home. “I want to come home, Coco; please this is not my home now, I know I don’t belong here anymore. I hate it. My home is with you not here with her. I should’ve never have left in the first place and I miss my little boys.” (My dogs.) He says the magic words. Home. I needed to hear him classing my house as home. He goes on promising he wasn’t making a cunt of me, he hadn’t slept with her, and he was still in the back bedroom on his own. Really? Really? Really? Fuck off! He goes on about how she was eating popcorn noisily, which was annoying him as he watched television. An argument started over it and then she told him to go back to where he came from. Brad tells me laughing at her, that little did she know that is exactly what he intended to do. I listen to so much then just hang up on him. Once more I am not that interested in what else he has to say as it would be just more lies, no doubt.

  29th March

  Clothes all packed up, my little dogs all ready to go with me, and Gucci is all sorted out until I return home. Today I am going to London for a while, I am leaving Brad Blake. First though I need to get a few things in town. On the way home in a taxi with my purchases, Brad texts me, which I ignore, so he then calls me, asking me to meet him. I refuse explaining I am in a taxi on my way home. He calls the taxi firm, requesting the driver to take a detour with me to a particular coffee shop as there is surprise waiting for me. Upon the taxi driver’s doing so, I arrive there to find Brad Blake standing in the doorway. I get out of the cab while he pays it. Trapped, I angrily inform him he has ten minutes of my time before I leave again. During that given time we have coffee then Brad, in front of his niece r, begins to make the arrangements with me to leave her aunt for the final time on a certain date. He begs me to wait, to stay in the relationship with him, just to trust him. “Fucking trust in him, yea right, don’t make me laugh!” the voices in my head whisper to me as he promises me that for definite he would be coming back for good this time, with him returning on the fourth of April, the day before my birthday.

  His niece drives me home, she tells me that she wishes he would make up his mind, which he now has done and hopes that he sticks with his choice as she is fed up of being in the middle of it all. I agree with her as he puts her in such an uncompromising position time after time. Once again in my haven, I lie down on the rug by the fire, as usual the wind and rain batters against the windows and my little dogs cuddle up beside me. I decide not to go today now as it’s late, besides I have missed the train which I had intended to catch. I shall stay put for tonight, in the shadows of the candlelight once again, I look for my wolf as I decide what to do tomorrow morning, whether to stay with or leave Brad Blake.

  31st March

  I’m woken up by banging noises coming from the kitchen. I come downstairs to find the place covered in lots of chocolate Easter eggs left for me, my son and daughter. I had no idea it was Easter Sunday yet again. There is also a lot of expensive food to make a complete Easter Sunday dinner. There are more gifts for me, including suitable wine to accompany the meal. A card lies on the table, it simply reads, ‘I love You Coco. Brad’. The house is empty once again, so he must have just left. I open the door just in time to catch the taillights of his car leave the street. How romantic of him, I think. If it hadn’t been for Brad bringing all these gifts, then we would have had nothing on Easter Sunday. He makes a brilliant Easter Bunny, I smile. Besides, this just proves again how much he loves me, so maybe I should stay and give him another chance after all; we all make mistakes, don’t we? Besides if it’s Easter weekend, everywhere will be extremely busy, and I think perhaps I should have booked the train in advance. “Bullshit! Making your excuses stronger than you Coco! Pussycat Coco! Fucking not got the audacity to leave him? Have you?”

  I remain put yet again. Pathetically. Later that evening, after a wonderful dinner, I head to the barn to give Gucci his chocolate egg. I stay the night once again falling asleep, this time outside his pen. The farmer had hung my quilt up on a peg near his stall, so he must have been thinking that for whomever the quilt belongs to or whoever sleeps with it, this will keep it dry for them. Maybe in the loneliness of the night as I sing to Gucci he is glad I am here after all.

  3rd April

  Brad comes by the house today to check I have everything packed up ready to leave in the morning. On top of the bed we lie cuddled together, making plans for our future. Brad is sexually aroused so I take him in my mouth. On doing so he comments that he had been a full month without this. Just this, I question him, what about the rest of the sex. To which he replies there has not been any. He is shocked and disgusted at the thought of it with her, then even more so at me for just assuming there had been a sexual relationship between them, albeit only now and again. Well, I question myself, I wasn’t to know what went on for sure, did I? I ask myself this again, confirming to me that I did no wrong as I am quite perturbed by the look on his face. He explains that if he ever did go into the bed, it was only when she got up. He also states that was a long while ago. He explains that when he was staying there, she got back into bed beside him one morning, and he lay just there for a little while before getting up so it wasn’t too obvious to her that he didn’t want her because he still had to stay in the house and convince her that he wasn’t still seeing me. He says he felt weak and he’d let me down. Weak in what? I question him. Let me down in exactly what? As in what had happened in bed? I ask again. It just makes matters worse as he is now asking me of exactly what am I accusing him of. He tries to explain what had happened but I just laugh and poke fun at him for being in bed with an old age pensioner. His face is bright red and he is pretending to vomit as he says, “Oh! I’m going to be sick, Coco!”

  Later that evening I prepare myself to leave with Brad. Well, most of my stuff still sat packed anyway plus I had made sure my hair and tan was perfect for the runaway jaunt, which it was once again actually conceived to be. Brad phones saying he loves me very much and he can’t wait to be back with me again. My thoughts are contradicting his, as I am far from sure about that or anything else right now for that matter.

  4th April

  I am up, dressed and waiting for Brad. He phones to say he will be a little late as she decided to do her hair before going shopping. The minute she leaves, he phones back informing me that he is packing the car with everything belonging to him, along with other personal things he wants to take from the house. He had all his clothes prepared days ago so he could remove them with military precision. He could carry out the task without delay in case for some reason she returned to the house. The events that take place that morning ensure that this time he can never return to her. Last of all, he takes the most important thing in the world down from the wall – the original wedding photograph of his dead parents, which had hung there for years. He then hurriedly checks the house for the last time to make sure he has everything before he leaves. Brad follows that by locking the doors then he putting his keys through the letterbox. Brad’s game plan is that when she comes home, she would find them lying on the carpet behind the door, cla
rifying cruelly that he was gone.

  He goes from his house to his stepdaughter’s house to inform her he was leaving now; this she had already known and had been expecting. As soon as he leaves her home though, she makes a phone call to her mother, telling her that Brad had left. His wife had apparently driven home like a bat out of hell to try and stop him from leaving. On arriving back home, she picked up the keys, realising she was way too late and he was long gone. Crying, she went to her daughter’s house; she was very upset, wondering where he was. Then realisation of the situation began to dawn on her, regarding what could have had happened. She came to the correct conclusion when she said that Brad must have gone back to that Coco. There must have something been going on there, as you don’t go back to a person time and time again just to rent a room. Brad said that she always blocked out the truth of their marriage and hid behind denial so she could save her own face each time he went back to stay because she wanted him there but mostly for financial reasons. So now she had admitted to herself out loud what she had known deep down all along.

  While all this was going on, I too have my own issues to deal with. I do not put myself in her shoes as you can imagine how awful that must be plus I feel Brad dealing with her in that way is all wrong. He showed no respect at all when perhaps he should have done. It is not, however, my marriage so at the end of the day, it is up to him. He feels she deserved no better as his life was hell with her from day one. No love. No winners today or losers, just time standing still for a moment as we all accept the place that we were all in for now. I am more concerned about my little dogs about them being left behind, with them not knowing or understanding where I have gone or when I would return. Everything is just fogged over in a cloud of horrid hurt, it should have been an ecstatic time for me, but it is one of the most horrible days I have had or rather we have ever encountered, believe it or not. I feel physically sick, mostly at the thought of my little dogs. What his wife must have felt that night is awful but to be honest, it is the least of my worries. I am more interested in me than her, I guess that is not totally true as I struggle with trying to shut the thought of her alone in that house that night out of my head, nobody deserved that, I know that. “You reap what you sow, Coco, reap what you sow!” my unwelcome friends clarify.

  5th April

  We wake this morning to a text on Brad’s phone from his wife. “You lying, cheating, deceitful bastard, don’t ever come near me again,” Brad reads this out to me, pissing himself laughing, then he deletes it as he then ignores the text completely and how she felt; I feel sorry for her as once I felt like that when he left to go to Canada. Fuck knows what the future holds for me either, so I don’t gloat, I just felt numb and say nothing at all. He says to me, “I love you so much, this and her mean nothing to me!” he kisses me and flings the phone down as hand in hand we go down to breakfast. I look at him thoughtfully and his attitude is that he can’t care less what the fuck she thinks.

  I have a brilliant birthday with Brad spoiling me as usual with loads of expensive gifts. He makes love to me with such love and tenderness; we have the most amazing sex, with him making me feel the most beautiful and the luckiest woman in the world. That night he takes me for a birthday dinner with champagne. Brad tells every single person we met, who passes or would listen to him, that I am his wife.

  We continue to stay with Megan on our hideaway holiday for a few days longer. Everyone notices we were inseparable at this point, we are constantly flirting with each other and kissing, touching, being very affectionate in public, not exactly an appropriate way to behave especially at our age but we do it anyway. As usual Robert wakes us at dawn with the fucking hoover, which was very funny and Megan goes nuts about it but he continues to do it anyway. We both have a nice time together despite everything that has happened but it is all over too soon, then it is time for me to return home with Brad, the difference with him is that now he is considering my house as his home too.

  The next few weeks both of us take time to settle into a routine suiting me and Brad. It is different from the last time he was here to stay long-term – it felt more real, the love felt more intense between us and that kind of scared me a little. Brad is determined to make it work as he seriously thinks of me as his wife.

  As it is my birthday, Brad has also booked a log cabin as a surprise. We go and stay there with my mum and dad and my daughter Jet comes too. We have a wonderful time full of fun and laughter as we all live in a little house in the woods, just like the television programme called The Walton’s. Which is what I used to tease Brad about, saying that is what he played at with his wife in back in their so-called marital home, to which we would both crack up laughing as she sat knitting and he did the cooking. Our relationship is in a brilliant place. Brad gives me some beautiful jewellery which cost a fortune, with embedded sapphires and diamonds, to remind me of the stars in the night sky. That is so romantic and we all share a lovely hotel dinner. But on arriving back home, my feelings just change again for no reason and I cry a lot as I just want us all to be back there at the cabin once more as I relive every day spent there in my head over and over. I miss my daughter and I refuse to admit I am possibly depressed but a lot of unhappiness takes over my days and nights as sadness sets in my life. I become very much aware I need to change this, yet I did not know how. My little dogs and Gucci become even more so my world.

  May

  First of May brings the celebration in the witch’s calendar it is Beltane, pronounced Bell-tane which is also known as May Day. It actually begins on the 30th of April. This is one of our very important Sabbats. It is where we welcome the summer. Large fires are lit to give tribute to the sun and the ashes from the fire are believed to hold magical influence. I burn rose incense and sage in my cauldron to mark this occasion. I don’t particularly like the summertime much, but my little dogs do and I am sure my donkey will also love to lie in the sun. My little dog, called Versace, he especially loves the warmth outside He lies at my feet in the sunshine as I write my manuscript, only moving when I do, to follow me but only as far as the door, Goddess Bel love him! I smile at this as I think to myself that I much prefer autumn time of the year; however, summer is an important time for Mother Nature, therefore I celebrate the coming of it anyway as part of my religion. Nonetheless, I prefer winter, I am more nocturnal; I am up late at night. I love the dark.

  9th May

  Another stupid row starts where he hits me again. This leads to him packing his clothes and leaving once more. He is back an hour later and I am just tired now of all the fighting and the abuse; it is clear this is only working for short periods of time. I want us to finish for good but Brad wants to try to rebuild the relationship, so here we are again, both of us with hope and me willing to give him yet another chance. Stupid me.

  The rest of May passes with us more like a regular couple than ever before, so perhaps it would work out after all. I am very confident now, convincing myself that he is here for good, especially under the terms he had left his wife, it was shocking yet he had made sure to guarantee me that there was no return ticket, not this time. I learn also that he chose to leave his wife in that way to show her that she meant nothing to him plus he felt it important to make her very clear on the fact he loved me. Kind of a bittersweet way, I think, of showing us both exactly where we stood.

  The cherry blossoms are back on the trees in my garden, sitting under them drinking wine, I think how much has changed since the time he left me for Canada. These last few weeks together we took romantic walks in the woods, ate candlelit dinners in fancy restaurants, made love sharing our fantasies, at the early hours of the morning, we were dancing naked in my garden in the light summer rain. We had been extremely happy and relaxed living together. I have a special surprise for him this evening though. I am going to teach him a new sex game which I made up. A game of our very own fantasy sex, which would be played with fruit-flavoured jellybean sweets.

  Darkness falls as I take Brad by
the hand upstairs to bed. The room smells of fruit as I had lit fruit-scented candles adding to the sticky sweet aroma coming from a huge bowl of jellybeans by the bed. Brad is laid on the bed, whereupon he is blindfolded with a silk scarf, and then tied up at the wrists and feet with silk ties. He is then fed jellybeans one by one and the challenge is to guess the flavour for sexual favours or forfeits, either by personal choice or from handwritten cards I had made. He tastes the first one, answering correctly – strawberry flavour. He is offered a token or he can have a sexual favour of his choice or pick a sexual favour card, the details written on it was my command. He chooses his own favour and he requests to lick me. As I spread my legs either side of his head, his tongue flickers in the air, trying to find my little clitoris. I watch for a minute, letting him search for me just as a snake tastes the air, before I lower myself gently onto him, allowing the warm tip of his tongue to flicker over me. He moans in his desperation to do so, but I let him lick just for a second, then it is time to try another jellybean.

  He gets the flavour wrong, so this time I chose his forfeit, plus he would receive no token. He would do as I ask or I can use a forfeit card to decide his punishment. You needed six tokens to be freed or you could buy yourself free from my game with whichever present I choose or by the reading of a gift card which stated the gift to be delivered. I make the decision to play on. His forfeit is I choose to play with myself for him with the punishment of him not being able to see me as he loves to watch, though tonight however he can only listen, so at this point he would have to just to imagine what I am doing as I whisper to him, informing him seductively that I am pushing the tiny silk panties aside, gently touching myself, then deeply pushing my finger up inside me. I let him taste little droplets of my juice as I put my finger from my sweet pussy to his lips. The sperm shoots right up out of him into the air. Game over. He loses immediately when he ejaculates. He is untied and his forfeit is my present, my decision. I order him to lick me for hours until I can take no more; at that point I cheat, adding a massage. He has to comply with the first, allowing me to come and come again in sheer pleasure but not the second but as the rules of the game are new to him, he doesn’t know that so I get both. My game is then boxed up and put away. On the bed, still laughing, we feed each other the jellybeans, trying to guess the flavours. “Better to be prepared, Brad,” I say to him, “try to learn all the different flavours for next time as in my own special game I made up to play with you, these rules are the art of the game. The better you are at tasting the flavours correctly, the better you can play the game. The better you are at playing game, the better the sex is you receive. Last of all, Blake, the more you play and the more you learn to hold out longer from ejaculating, the higher the chances of you winning. With the bonus of the longer you hold on the longer you will get fucked.” This I promise him sincerely as I get up from the bed to go and run a bath for us to share. He goes downstairs still eating and trying to guess the flavours correctly. While he goes to get the bottle of wine and order us some pizza, he continues to eat more jellybeans, still getting them all wrong. I laugh so much, this game is way too much to my advantage, and I smirk with delight.