Friday Fictioneers-The Madness of a Woman Seduced

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for the prompt this week. I encourage both kudos and criticisms. I’m tough. I can take it. Most of the time. It ain’t easy being a tender hearted potty mouth such as moi. Yes, the story is romantic. Sort of. I promised myself there’d be a death. No one dies, but a love does.

My brother Rory edited my story. He takes my words and makes them shine. If I get famous, I’m taking him with me. I promise.

Don’t like the genre, get bent. It’s what I do best.

Genre: Romance (with a side of broken heart)

copyright-claire-fuller…and the long-stemmed red tulips bent in the breeze like exotic women accepting homage.

Susan Fromberg Schaeffer, “The Madness of a Seduced Woman”

“You seduced me. Made me love you. Then you left.”

“Yes, I did. You fell. But that wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t your fault. Nothing ever is. You called me crazy. I’m far from it.”

“I said you ‘acted’ crazy.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“A woman seduced carries her own brand of madness.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. David’s here. Now leave.”

He touches her cheek, he walks away. She picks up hammer and chisel. Metal strikes stone, dust flies. An image appears, of lovers, holding fast. She scrawls a lopsided heart. It is finished, so are they.

100 words 

With Her Words She Healed Him

Michelle and Michael touched each other in a way that best friends never should. Then again, they never really did touch. However, for one night they gave each other what they needed because they knew their connection was strong. They knew that they could trust each other. That is until Michelle fell for Michael. She had became lost in his words. She believed him when he said she was beautiful. He awakened her soul and her body. Then, she being the silly girl she was, she swooned so hard, she fell and broke her tender heart.

Michelle was online late one night chatting with friends and playing some boring online solitaire game. She saw Michael’s message pop up and responded to him immediately. It always made her heart skip a beat when she saw the green light appear next to his avatar on her social network page.

“You there?”, he asked.

“Of course I am, aren’t I always?” Michelle responded.

“Want to chat for a bit?”, Michael asked.

What a dumb question for him to ask. Of course she wanted to chat with him. She longed to see his words appear in the private message window. He was her best friend, but she loved him too. A little too much sometimes.

“Honey, you know we never chat for a bit”, she said.

He responded with little smiley emoticons. Then they talked about life. How their families were. What was going on at work. About their idiosyncrasies that their spouses never understood.  For some reason they always “got” each other though.  Michelle thought about how over the years they built a great friendship and a strong emotional bond. Michael felt it too. He’d made sure to tell her as much.

They always bantered sexually. It was typical for them to do that. Michelle always felt safe with him. Needed, necessary, smart, and loved. Like she mattered. Michelle had been drinking vodka, so her tongue, words, and body felt loose. Their messaging turned to more intimate talk. More sexual than usual. More primal.  They discussed their sadness over not being touched in such a long time. Of needing to be needed. Desiring to be desired. They wondered what was wrong with them. They kept questioning why. Then Michelle let the vodka take over and started talking dirty.

Michelle asked, “What are you wearing?”

Michael responded, “Pajama pants. You?”

She said, “I’m fully clothed, but I can take something off if you want.”

He said, “Make yourself comfortable and take everything off.”

She laughed and then typed, “Of course I will, I love being naked.”

He responded, “Great, now I have a hard on.”

“Good”, was all she said in response.

Here she was a little drunk, sitting naked in the living room and chatting with her best friend. For some reason it felt right. Like it’s what she was meant to do. She’d always healed with her body, even if it was virtually.

She asked, “What do you want me to do?”

He said, “I haven’t been touched in so long and neither have you. Let’s take care of each other tonight.”

Michelle was scared but knew that she wanted to please him. To please herself. She longed to have him touch her, make her feel alive. Fuck her. But they belonged to others. Michael loved Michelle, but never felt that spark that comes from love and longing. But this night he longed for her, even if it was virtually. So she gave him what he wanted. And ultimately what she wanted.

Michelle said, “I’ve never done this before, please tell me what to do.”

Michael said, “Talk to me like you usually do. Tell me what you’d do to me if you were here, naked, and in bed with me.”

She did. She told him all the things she would do to him. In vivid detail. She knew that it was affecting him because he had stopped typing.

She asked, “Honey are you still there?”

Michael said, “Of course, but you’ve made me feel so good and I’m so close, I can’t type anymore.”

Michelle said, “Then don’t type. I will. I’ll give you my words and you let go for me. I want you to feel me. Like I’m right there with you.”

She kept typing. She kept telling him things she’d do to him if she was in bed with him. She kept telling him that she loved him and wanted nothing more than to please him. To have him please her. He didn’t type anything for a few minutes, but that was okay. She just kept saying how much she wanted him. A few minutes later,  he typed the sweetest words she’d ever seen.

He said, “Thank you for giving me what I needed. You made me feel incredible.”

Michelle replied, “You know Michael, I’m always here for you. I love you.”

“Now it’s your turn”, he said.

She replied, “No honey, I’m good. Knowing that I helped you. That I made you feel good is pleasure enough for me.”

They said their thank yous, and I love yous.  Promised that what they did would never change their friendship and their bond. That night when Michael signed off,  she was still naked and alone. She re-read her words to him, touched herself and came.

At the crescendo of her orgasm, she  yelled to an empty room in all her nakedness and vulnerability, “Michael, I love you!”

When she was done, she saved their messages and then closed down the computer for the night. Threw on a t-shirt and boy shorts. Poured herself a Ketel One on the rocks and slammed it. Crawled into bed, laid there waiting for the let down of the alcohol and cried herself to sleep.

What Price, Freedom?

We are so used to numbing ourselves with food. However, we are no longer numb.

We are alive.

We want to experience everything.

We have the rest of our lives to do just that.

We are so afraid though. We’ve never felt so free. Freedom scares us.

(Yeah I said this. I know it’s scary that I can say something so profound, but dammit I swear I did!)

I was talking to a dear friend today who is struggling to find herself. She and I numbed ourselves with food for so long it’s hard for us to feel without hurting. It’s like that of an autistic person who’s senses are in hyper drive. It’s the same for us that have broken out of the addiction of food. Our bodies are finally free but so are our minds.  Let me tell you our minds can think and do some crazy shit.

What she and I feel is static electricity running through our bodies. It’s a restlessness I can’t even explain. It’s the feeling that we need to go out and experience everything we couldn’t when our bodies were morbidly obese. The euphoria is amazing, but it’s also exhausting. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t think I felt this good when I was in my teens. I know I didn’t. I can tell you why. Because now, I’m thinking like a teenager and like a woman confident in her body. Confidence is sexy, but sometimes I’m a little too damn confident!

B. finally got herself out of a marriage that was no longer working.  After losing weight the light bulb went off. She realized that what she was doing was merely existing.  And she got tired of raising a husband like a child. She decided the best option for herself and the children was to move on. I have supported and loved her through it all. My heart breaks and cheers for as she struggles to find happiness. B. has no idea how incredibly strong she is. I am so proud of her. Yes, I’m envious in some respects. Not so much in others. Her life has been tumultuous. I hope that my words and actions have eased some of  her pain.

We’ve both lost 150 lbs, each. Yes, an entire person. That person dragged us down, made us tired, and unhappy. We are finding though that we are still weighed down. With doubt, uncertainty and sadness. We are still searching for balance. For bliss. We may never find it, but we will go through hell looking for it. And I know she and I will always be at each other’s side. We’ll hold hands and love each other through it all. She has been my constant for 30 years.

I can’t say that I haven’t had my issues while going through such a profound transformation.  I have thought about running away from my life and starting over. There are so many questions unanswered, and so many what ifs going through my mind. I struggle to find peace within myself everyday. I fight battles with a mirror, and my psyche. Fuck I’m a mess, but my sparkly heart is good. I seek new people and new connections every day. I look for new ways to thrive. I can’t sit still for long. If I’m stagnant, then I die. And baby I’m not dying for a long time.

I remind B. that her heart is good, but she must be guarded with it. Do not give it to the first person you meet. Do not tell them deep, dark secrets. Keep those inside and share them with the right one.  I know she will find someone that is good for her, but she has got to find peace within herself first. Be happy in being alone or with her kids. Know that what she is doing is right. All I want for her is peace of mind and happiness. I want it for both us.