by James, Ella
Sloth, she says it is. Dear fuck.
I pull my jacket down and head off through the woods, toward Whitney’s driveway.
Every heavy footstep drives her through my head.
Sloth... Sloth... Sloth.
What are the odds?
What are the odds?
My mind should be on this bullshit with Whitney, but it circles her. I wonder what the chances are, in numbers. Out of all the colleges in Georgia... How many students? How many of them female? Only one of them is her. What are the chances we would meet?
Well, you came here for her...
It’s not entirely true. She was just a thought, a distant want. Yeah, I wrote to her—notebooks full—but that’s not all. I’ve always liked the luscious South, starting with a family trip to St. Simon’s Island the year before my mother died. Lyon and I were eight, and Barrett thirteen. We stayed for three weeks by the sea. My dad came just four days.
She’s a dealer—Sloth is?
I can’t reconcile it. It doesn’t fit with my picture of her. And yet, it kind of does. I imagine her swinging her arms around, all jacked up on Vyvanse; I can see that black shawl flapping around her. Cleo, kneeling, making faces at Truman. I can see a younger Cleo, getting high and eating pizza.
Why is it so shocking? That a good person—a person whom I know to be inherently good and generous—would sell marijuana?
I don’t want her getting caught.
If she was doing it anyway...
I don’t want her anywhere near me. And yet—
And yet.
Chapter Five
Kellan
September 20, 2011
“Take those clothes off—everything... is what Arethea said. And then you’ve gotta put them in this bin.” She points at the big, yellow garbage can, shoved into the corner of the bathroom. I can see her arm jut out, even though my eyes are focused on the floor. “You know the drill,” she adds softly.
My gaze breaks away from the tile and throws itself at Whitney’s face. In another life—one I lived just days ago—this girl’s wide smile and mismatched green and blue eyes heralded homestyle comforts. Whitney Marsh: knitter of beanies and floppy socks. Whitney Marsh: Pinterest-a-holic. This girl can make a turkey out of an Oreo, a Hershey’s Kiss, and candy corn. When life gives Whitney lemons, she makes lemonade in every color of the rainbow, sweetens it with Stevia, and donates the proceeds to childhood cancer. In a few more years, Whitney Marsh is going to help autistic children learn to talk through special iPad apps. She’s Methodist. A little Marxist, which she won’t reveal until she’s had a few stiff drinks. Whitney was a virgin until my brother.
And so it’s strange that she’s my prison warden now.
Her mismatched eyes reach out to mine, so warm the heat of them threatens the ice I’m using as a shield. I shift my eyes away. They sink like anchors to the floor.
I shrug my shoulders, grateful that the simple motion sends my jacket falling to the blue tile.
“Jacket,” she says in a quiet, tired voice. I’m not looking, but I sense her pick it up and put it in the bin.
I bend to remove my shoes, then change my mind and straighten slowly back up.
“Do you need some help?” I hear the fabric of her clothes swish as she steps toward me.
I turn away from her. I bend again, reach for my shoes, and end up on my ass. The cold of the tile bleeds through the fabric of my pants. I tug the shoes off, then the socks.
I hear the soles of her Chucks mnnchh against the floor behind me. I hear her scoop my shoes up. The bag inside the bin crinkles as she deposits them inside. Unsanitary: everything on me.
“I’m going to step around you, Kellan. Turn the shower on. Just do the same thing with your pants. I’ll get them off the floor.”
I clutch my head.
“I can help you up if you want. Do you want me to?” Motherfuck, she’s right behind me.
“No,” I growl.
I clench my jaw. I can’t believe she’s even here with me—but that’s Whitney. Compulsively dependable. Like a sister... that my brother fucks.
FUCKED.
“Go away,” I snap.
I hear her retreat over by the door. I don’t feel any guilt, although I know I should.
I get to my feet without her help and drop my running pants. I hope to fuck she isn’t looking. That’s just... weird.
I look over at the shower stall. The door is open, and now that the water’s been running for a minute, a familiar, acrid scent leaks across the small bathroom, wafting to the low ceiling in bluish tufts of steam.
My knees feel weak as I try to figure out where she is now, within the room. I can feel her eyes on me. I hear her soft sniff.
“Go on, Kellan. You can get in. I’m not looking.”
Stepping into the shower is a hard thing for me. I’m too tired to discern why, but my chest aches as I do it. The water is lukewarm, like always. Might as well be freezing. I shiver and step under the chemical water.
I don’t move, just let it roll over me. They should really make this water warmer. I deserve warm water, I think numbly.
I sense Whitney move in front of the rippled glass door.
“Kellan?” she calls.
What the hell is wrong with her?
“I’m out here, but I can’t see you. I’m sorry to corner you like this, but I’m going to talk. You need to listen.”
I snort, pulling steam into my nose. The chemicals in the water burn into my sinuses like cocaine.
“I need you to hear me. Okay, Kellan?”
I shut my eyes.
“You made a bad choice, K. I get you lost your cool... but you might have ruined this whole thing in doing that. Have you thought about what that means? Is that what you even want? To force yourself into a corner?” Her voice echoes through the tiny room. “Is that what you want?” Her voice is breathy quiet; shrill. Because she’s on the verge of tears. “I want to know. Is that what you want, Kellan? To just... give up?”
I look down at myself. I hate everything about my life right now—including her. So I tell her, “Go the fuck away. And Whitney? Don’t come back.”
* * *
Cleo
September 11, 2014
I want a dog—but I don’t have one. I don’t think I...pet him on the head. He’s warm. Soft hair.
“Roll over.”
I’m supposed to tell him that, I thought?
Mmm.
I roll over, mashing my breasts into the mattress and sinking back down into sleep.
I crack open my eyes because I’m being tickled. My arms...
I try to move them and I find I can’t.
Fear slices through my grumpiness. I try again to move, and as my eyes blink, I spot Kellan. He’s lording over me. It’s dark. I’m on my back now, and Kellan—
“Ahh.”
I look down and find his head is pushed against my entrance.
“Oh God.” My voice is low and hoarse with sleep.
He pushes in a little, making me grunt.
“I can’t move,” I whimper. I’m so sleepy.
“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice is low—a nighttime voice.
He’s shadowed by the moonlight spilling through the windows. His thick shaft pushes in a fraction more, and I inhale. Now that I’m waking up a little more, I can smell him: sweat and male. I can see his face: so taught and solemn. I wonder how his outing went. I don’t even remember falling asleep.
I drop my legs open a little wider, and his hand closes around my hip. He rocks gently against me until my body welcomes more of him.
“You’re so damn tight.” His hand trails up my arm. “You’re gonna take in all of me—deep into your pussy, then your throat.”
He strokes my belly gently, sending chills over my skin; making my inner muscles clench around his hard length.
“I need to be inside you... have to be.” His eyes on mine are soulful and intense, as if it really is a need, and not a w
ant.
He thrusts once, hard and deep, and he’s in up to the hilt. I’ve got every inch of him inside me, forcing me open, rearranging me with his invasion. He starts to rock his hips, and I can feel the bulb of his head way deep inside me, teasing the same nerves that alight when his finger’s in my backside.
“You feel so good,” he rasps. His free hand crawls slowly down my ribs. “So fucking good, that pussy, Cleo...” He rocks into me, finding a rhythm that is steady and slow, with deep, almost punishing thrusts and slick pulls as he rocks away from me... then plunges deliciously back in.
His gaze on my face never falters. His fingers twist my nipple as he pumps his big cock in and out of me.
I arch against him. My clit throbs.
“You feel so good,” I whisper. “The way you stretch me...” This pleasure combined with the grogginess from sleeping. I sigh, thrusting my hips toward him.
“You like being stuffed with my cock.”
“Not gonna lie...” I try to reach out for his shoulder, but my hands are tied. Oh... right. I smile up at him. “I love your big cock.”
“My little slut...”
I rock myself against him and I sigh, relaxing my shoulders despite the tightness of the bind around my wrists. Kellan strokes a thumb over my clit. My toes curl.
And then he pulls out of me.
My eyes widen. “What?”
He smiles down at me as I’m...lifted off the bed? I’m instantly confused, because Kellan is still right in front of me. If he’s not lifting me...
He rises on his knees and smiles grimly.
My eyes dart down my torso.
“Holy fuck.”
I’m strung up like an animal after a hunt. I’m in some kind of harness...
Straps are holding me upright, pulling me slowly upward. I glance up, observing with my eyes what my body already senses: I’m hanging from a rope that disappears into a dark hole in the ceiling.
“Oh my God, Kellan.” How the fuck did I not notice this?
The harness is wrapped around my waist, between my legs, over my shoulders. My arms must be bound to the rope I’m hanging from; they’re still stretched above my head. I didn’t notice it before but—
“Ahhh.” The little moan pops out my lips.
As my weight is lifted fully off the bed and balanced by the harness, my legs sway a little, and I notice something...in my—
“Oh God.”
In my ass!
I squirm in my restraints, feeling panicked as I hang there, swaying above the bed like a trapeze artist with a—
“Kellan, what did you...”
I clench around whatever’s lodged in me. It starts to vibrate. For a moment, I see stars. Then I’m able to focus, to look down at the bed. Just a few feet below me, Kellan is sitting up on his knees, grinning wickedly as he holds a small remote. He rises a little higher on his knees, so his face is level with my pussy.
I try to stretch my legs, to brush the balls of my feet against the bedding. To get some control. He’s got me just high enough that I can’t really stand. I bend my knees, lifting my legs and feet up and tucking them behind my butt. My ass throbs. I have to swallow back a moan. The harness around my crotch pulls a little, but it’s not unpleasant pressure. I look down again. The rope that makes the harness looks like it’s coated with a softer fabric.
“What do you think of your predicament?” he murmurs. He wraps his hand around my calf and strokes. “Does it feel good, the surprise I left you?”
The pressure in my ass might be delicious. I can’t tell. I’ve started shaking. I tug air into my lungs. “W-what is this thing? I thought we were having sex?”
“Oh yes. I’m going to fuck you, Cleo.”
“I don’t...” I roll my hips into the air and close my eyes, my body swaying gently from the ceiling. My ass is so full. God, it’s hard to think. “I don’t get it,” I cry.
He runs his palms over my thighs, stilling my swaying body. “Let me show you.”
He takes out a longer, silver remote and I am lifted slightly higher. My pussy clenches as the nerves inside me sizzle from the pressure in my ass.
“You can almost touch the bed,” he says, looking down at my feet. Dangling as they are, just my toes brush the mattress. “But you can’t. What do you think the purpose of this is, Cleo?”
He presses a button on the black remote, and what’s inside my backside thumps against my tender walls.
I moan.
“Let me show you.”
He rises into a crouch and grabs my hips. He lowers his head between my legs and drags his warm tongue through my sopping folds.
“I can do this,” he drags his tongue over my swollen flesh, “and you can’t move—at all.”
I try to shift my hips and swing my legs to prove him wrong, but to no avail. The roar of pleasure in my backside and his slick tongue on my pussy has my legs feeling so weak.
“Oh God...”
“I was going to fuck that pussy, but I wanted you helpless first.” He shoves two fingers into me. I can feel the plug in my backside crescendo, making my hips buck against his fingers.
“Ahhh!”
I stretch my feet again to get a foothold on the bed, but all I manage to do is close my legs around his face, bringing his writhing tongue deeper into me. He flicks against my entrance.
I curl and straighten my legs.
“That’s right, baby. Struggle. Show me how crazy my tongue makes you.”
He adds another finger, and my arms jerk.
“I want to touch you too,” I gasp.
“Oh, this?” He leans away from me, and I can see his cock standing against his abs. Pre-cum glistens in the darkness.
“You’ll touch this. Just your mouth. But now it’s my turn.”
He drags his long, slick tongue between my puffy lips and opens his mouth wider, feasting on me while I screech and throb. He whirls his tongue through my slickness, thumping lightly over my clit, then pushing inside my hungry cunt. My asshole pulses at the whims of what’s inside it.
Somewhere far away, I’m aware of his fingers pulling out of me, of him adjusting the angle of the harness and lowering me back down to the bed. He eases my legs out in front of me and ensures I’m sitting firmly on the bed before he stops the churning of the rope above me. I’m on my ass in a semi-reclined position—with my arms still stretched above my head.
He nudges his hand between my thighs and glides two fingers back inside me. He flexes them, and he must brush my G-spot, because the jolt of bliss is so intense, I come up off the bed.
“Oh shit!”
With one fingertip still curled against the tender spot, another writhing against my inner walls, he gives my pussy a slow, warm tongue-kiss.
I jerk in the ropes. I can feel my moisture seep out over his lips.
“You’re clenching tight around my finger. You’re so wet and swollen. I think you’re getting ready to come soon.” He licks me, from where I’m dripping around his fingers up to my throbbing clit. “How do you feel, with your thighs drenched and your pussy stuffed? That ass of yours is so damn full. Do you feel the egg inside you... ?”
He makes a lazy circle around my clit with the tip of his tongue. I moan loudly. “I can smell you, Cleo, taste you. You can’t help it, can you? You’re so wet, so close.”
I feel him drag his mouth down my sopping slit. His puffy lips tease over me as his fingers, stretching me inside, push deeper. He’s right about how wet I am. I’m dripping down my thighs. I buck my hips, trying and failing to press myself against his hot tongue. I need release, but I can’t move. “Oh please...”
The rhythm of his probing quickens and he rolls his tongue over me, lapping... oh God...”Oh God! FUCK fuck!” I come screaming. Kellan groans into my folds, sending pleasure back through me. “Oh God...”
While I’m still panting from the onslaught, pressing my thighs together and letting my head loll back between my raised arms, he reaches back under me, parts my ass
cheeks with the base of his hand, and rolls two fingertips over my well-lubed sphincter.
I gasp because I’m stretched already, stuffed full of whatever he put there while I slept. His fingertips stretch me even more, until it hurts—so good my pussy throbs. His fingers stroke in deeper. I moan as he draws the warm egg out.
“Oh God.”
I feel like... some kind of fuck toy.
My asshole throbs as I sag; the binds around my upper body keep me suspended, swaying.
“You’re dripping everywhere, Cleo. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wetter pussy...” With his fingers still in my pussy, Kellan lifts my ankles to his shoulders, and I feel a different pressure at my backside. Something bigger...
“Kellan,” I pant.
His fingers, in my pussy, wriggle encouragingly. “Relax and take a deep breath, Cleo.”
I do as he says, and let out a low grunt-groan as something thick and hard slides into my ass. It spreads me wide, stinging even as the pressure of it inside lights up all my nerve endings. At first the sensations tell me it’s his cock, but then I sway a little in the harness, and I realize that’s not possible.
His fingers, still inside my pussy, stroke. I press my heels against his shoulders, trembling slightly as I move my ass in time with the throbbing pressure inside.
Kellan slides his fingers out of me, and I want to scream. He lets my legs down, comes between them, parts my puffy lips with his fingers, and wraps one arm around me, holding my lower body in place while he works his hard, thick cock into my cunt.
I’m at his total mercy. Swaying slightly. Stuffed. Invaded. His arms coil around my waist to keep me locked against him as he fucks me... brutally. So hard and good I start to cry.
“You’re so big...”
“You’re so tight.”
“It hurts,” I gasp.
He pauses his thrusting, long enough to look me in the eye.