Challenge #06: Weekly Drabble
As he roughly presses his lips to her neck, she thinks, I shouldn’t want this, but as he pulls up her skirt and she wiggles down her panties, the thought vanishes and she does, in fact, want this. At that moment, the deep, dark place inside of her that she must go to accept this doesn’t matter as much as the ache between her thighs. Tomorrow, though, she knows she’ll feel differently.
They have to be quick. There are surely people waiting for the elevator downstairs. But that’s part of what spurs this storm inside of her.
When they part, they don’t exchange names and numbers. They don’t say goodbye. It isn’t about that. They both got what they’d come for and there’s no reason to pretend it was anything else.
Twenty minutes later, she fixes her hair and reapplies her lipstick in the rearview mirror in the parking lot of the building with the Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous banner in the window. Walking across the parking lot, she smoothes her skirt one last time and thinks to herself that there might be a silver lining to her pathetic story: even if she isn’t able to help herself, maybe she will be able to help someone else. She just has to be sure to keep her hypocrisy to herself.
They have to be quick. There are surely people waiting for the elevator downstairs. But that’s part of what spurs this storm inside of her.
When they part, they don’t exchange names and numbers. They don’t say goodbye. It isn’t about that. They both got what they’d come for and there’s no reason to pretend it was anything else.
Twenty minutes later, she fixes her hair and reapplies her lipstick in the rearview mirror in the parking lot of the building with the Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous banner in the window. Walking across the parking lot, she smoothes her skirt one last time and thinks to herself that there might be a silver lining to her pathetic story: even if she isn’t able to help herself, maybe she will be able to help someone else. She just has to be sure to keep her hypocrisy to herself.