Two more months.

She sank into the old leather couch.  Soothing piano notes floated from her little speaker onto the stale air’s unclaimed molecules, lifting the dim house’s oppression.  Turning, she brushed back the flimsy curtains to let the light in, only to notice goopy bodies of dried paint around the window.  Tiny holes in the walls glared like beady black eyes.  She looked down at the floor she’d installed while pregnant and the gaps at the bottom of the walls where preterm labor prevented her from laying quarter round.  Leaves curled up dead there, blown in from the open space under the front door.  

My daughter plays here.

Defeat sat heavy on her shoulders.

The single pane windows shook as the train up the road screamed by, warring and winning against her little speaker.  

She lived in an imploding bomb.  There wasn’t enough in her savings account to get out.  Not yet.

But so close.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the clock.  11am.  One more hour until she’d have to pick up her daughter at daycare.  Four more until her boyfriend Tevon came home from work to scream at her again, tell her she was a lazy bitch with no discipline… or maybe he’d switch up the verbal abuse this time from the morning’s tirade.

Keep it together.  

“Okay,” she whispered. 

Dishes and laundry were almost done.  Dinner done, meals packed for work tomorrow and her daughter’s lunch and dinner.  She’d exercised and showered.  

Check, check, check.

Windows rattled again.  A car driving by.

Sighing, she closed her eyes.  “I really need to caulk those.”

Maybe when Olivia was napping later.  

What now?

Everything felt empty.  Like a cardboard set for a play.  

Odd that this life didn’t tear her up.  With her mood history, it would make sense.  It was simply disappointing, she realized.  

Why?  Focusing on the future for her daughter, no matter what she had to endure, absolutely.  But…

Him.

Tense muscles softening, she felt herself smile.  Warmth infected her as she remembered a gentle love, stronger than anything she’d thought possible.  It had always lingered, protecting her from succumbing to her boyfriend’s near-constant verbal abuse and negativity.  

When she exhaled, she smiled at the memory of Him in her apartment, the day they opened her kink drawer. 

She giggled and immediately stopped, the light, musical sound jarring in the empty house.  Then suddenly became very aware of how long it’d been since she last orgasmed. 

I have less than an hour… Enough time for a quickie.

Her flip flops thunked her heels as she walked into the bedroom and into the closet.  She smiled down at the black trunk she’d owned for decades, then kneeled on the forest green carpet before it.  Thumbed open the latches, lifted the lid, and pulled out the pink and white box.

“Trust me.”

The memory of her words to Him made her tremble.  Made her heart and mind sad and at peace at the same time.

He’d looked worried but said nothing.  Just lay back on her bed as his thick, curved cock stood confidently from his hips.  She’d switched the bunny-eared device on, moving its vibrating vertex to cup his balls.

After a moment, he sighed and relaxed.  Just in time for her to take him into her mouth.

She’d washed her toy afterward.  Showered countless times.  But this… this thing.  This toy his dribbling cum vibrated over, she hadn’t used since. 

Backing out of the closet, she slipped onto the bed they’d broken in together.  Remembered how he’d walked among the fruit trees when she arrived back from work.  Greeted her with a smile lighting his face, peace strengthening his gait, as he told her he’d dreamed of the moment he’d welcome her home.

They’d made love and shopped and he’d made her dinner.  Made love again and spooned.  Fit so perfectly, it was as if she’d never cuddled before.  

Then there was the rest, but fuck all that.

Beauty.  That moment.  

She pushed her sweats and panties to her ankles.  Let them leash her like the black satin ribbons he’d tied on her while he lapped at her pussy and ass.  Switching on the vibrator, she waited until she couldn’t tell if she was vibrating or the toy.

She put the tip at her clit and everything between her legs bloomed.  Closing her eyes, she dreamed of Him and her, fucking in exhibition.  Him and her, in theesomes and orgies, but always touching.  Always connected.  Everything they’d ever wanted, no restrictions or judgement.

Fire licked down the backs of her thighs and she felt her hips thrust.  

“I want you to fuck my face,” he’d said.

Oh god.

“Fuck!”  Orgasms crashed through her, thrashing her limbs.  She grabbed a pillow, pushed it into her face with her free hand but rode the vibrator like she would his mouth.  Over and over, harder and harder, until her heart palpitated and she struggled to breathe.

The vibrator died.

A moment passed, but she didn’t let go.  Kept the slick bunny ears pressed between her legs as if it was Him.

“Fuck.”  Fatigue dragged her body.

She threw the pillow down to the bed.  Stared at the squiggly lines on the ceiling as reality settled back in.  

“I want to marry you,” he’d said.

But you never did.  

Her breath evened.  Shaking, she set the toy on the dresser.  Stood and walked through the house and into the backyard.  Stepped around the crumbling cement toward the picnic table and sat.  Surveyed the peeling paint and spiderwebs before turning her face to the sky.  The insults of the night before hurled back onto her shoulders as the sun soaked her skin, warring coldness and warmth.

She thought of Olivia and that baby chuckle.  Her bank account and the house her daughter deserved to be raised in, one she could make a home. 

Two more months.