Therapy
Ricky,
Mother + Father are gone to that conference. Back tomorrow nite.
I'm out to the mall, BBL.
The dish in the fridge is for you. Custard - I made it myself!
Becky ^_^
Thump.
There it was again.
Ricky put down his pen. Was someone in the house?
Thump.
"Hello?"
Light peeked from under Becky's door down the hall.
Did she come in after him? Was he that oblivious?
When he was in a groove, yes, probably.
Knock knock.
"Oh, hey!" Becky smiled. Ricky's tension visibly melted.
"I thought I heard you up here. I didn't know you were home. Why didn't you come say hi?"
"I wanted to give you a little alone time. I thought after a tough day at school and a meeting with a bunch of old guys telling you how to draw you might be a little wound up."
"Oh. It's really not that bad. And they're not that old. Dave's only 35, and he's the oldest."
"Did you find the snack I left you?"
"Yeah, thanks."
"Did you eat it all up like a good boy?"
Becky seemed... frisky... Ricky felt a twitch in his pants.
"Yeah..."
"Good. Come in. Tell me all about your day."
She opened the door a little wider and beckoned him in, closing the door behind him.
Ricky noticed she wasn't dressed. Well, she wasn't dressed in much.
A little blue babydoll. He'd seen one just like it before. Just not on Becky.
And black hair.
"Why are you dressed like that? What's with the wig?"
She looked like Angela...
"I know you were with her last night." She walked toward him. Stalking him.
Ricky's brow furrowed. "Becky, it's not what you think."
"Relax, sport. I'm not mad." She backed him up against the bed.
"Becky, don't."
"Shh. I know what you need." She pushed him down onto the bed with surprising strength. (All those self *defense* classes her parents had made her attend...) Before he could get up she was on top of him, grabbing his wrist, pulling it over his head. Her big breasts hung in his face as she leaned over him, putting something cold and hard around his wrist.
"Becky, what are you-"
She grabbed his other arm. In a flash, it too was over his head. He heard the metallic click-click-click-Click! this time.
Handcuffed to the headboard.
"Becky, uncuff me." His voice was more nervous than forceful.
She withdrew to the foot of the bed, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I told you I'm not mad. Seeing you with her last night showed me something."
"You *saw* us- me? You were *spying* on me?"
"Not spying. Researching. I just want to make you happy. In ways that she can't."
Ricky was beginning to get freaked out. "Becky, can we talk about this first? I'm not really in the mood for games." And yet he was hard; his sweatpants tented obscenely.
"Of course you are. Especially after that little blue pill."
"What little... Becky, did you drug me?"
"Just wanted to make sure you could get up over the little hump that's been holding you back." She flicked his erection playfully before reaching for the waistband and tugging his sweatpants down to his thighs.
"Becky, cut it out. It's not funny."
"It's not supposed to be, silly. Boy, are you messed up. But at least your dick knows what to do."
His tone became firm. "Becky, I want you to unlock these right now."
"You don't fool me, Mr. Aquino. I saw your little sketchbook. The one you hide under your mattress. The one with all those drawings of *her*. You really need to let her go, Ricky. She's no good for you. She'll never be who you want her to be."
"What are you talking about?" He scooted away from her; she just moved around to the other side of the bed, her fingers tickling up and down his torso, undoing one of his shirt buttons with every pass.
"You think I don't know? You think I didn't recognize the outfits, the poses? I'm not stupid, you know. I heard about the Labor Day Incident. I know you were there. You saw Sapphire up close. And you can't get her out of your head. You're obsessed. It's not healthy."
"Becky, you don't understand..."
"Of course I understand. It's not *hard* to understand, Ricky." She squeezed his dick. "You draw comic books. To see a real-live vigilante in action, it's like a dream come true. A fantasy. Angela doesn't understand, but I do. She's jealous, isn't she?"
"No. You've got her all wrong. You've got *me* all wrong."
But Becky wasn't hearing him. "And you, you just can't stop thinking about her, ever since she was killed in that explosion. Sapphire's like a ghost, haunting you. It's okay. I understand. I want to help. I *need* to help."
She leaned up close; her skin was hot on his. "Because I love you, Ricky. More than Angela ever could."
"If you love me, you'll stop this right now."
"Oh, Ricky, you poor thing. She's got you so twisted around you can't even see it. But don't worry. I know what you're missing. And I'm gonna give it to you."
"Becky, I know you think-" Ricky stopped and started again. "Becky, I know you love me. And I love you too. But I still have feelings for Angela. She's been through a lot. You know about her mom, and the house... I can't just dump her. And you should know me well enough to know I'm not the kind of guy who'll sleep around. Let me talk to her. Let me make a clean break. Then you and I can be together."
"Oh boy, Ricky, are *you* in the dark! She's way ahead of you, sport. You know she's seeing *two* men behind your back... that I know of."
"How do you-?"
"Gosh, do you really have to ask? Why do you think you haven't seen me at lunch at school lately?"
"You've been skipping school?"
"Well, yeah. My classes are so boring! I hope college is more of a challenge."
"You've been spying on Angela?"
"Somebody's gotta watch out for you. Lord knows you'd just let her walk all over you."
"Becky, what did you do?" His voice strained at being non-confrontational.
"Don't look at me like that. --Oh my god, you're not thinking I did anything to Angela, did you? Jeez, Ricky, I'm not *stupid*. I don't care about her. She's not worth the trouble. Besides, she didn't do anything wrong. Okay, maybe she's sleeping around with a cop and a mobster, and she's popping pills like Pez, but she's an especially needy girl. Obviously more hang-ups than one man can deal with. Even you, sport. But it's okay. I'd probably be desperate and clingy and skittish too after what happened to her." She shrugged. "But don't feel bad for her. She's going to be just fine without you. Matter of fact, I'm doing you a favor."
She took a step back and pirouetted for him. "You like it? I picked it out especially for you."
"How did you-?"
"How'd I know the exact one? I was there when you bought it, silly. I saw all the stuff you bought for her that day. The way you pushed her into buying the kinds of things that Sapphire would wear. I gotta hand it to you, you gave it your best shot. But in the end she's just not right for the part."
"Oh my god." Ricky was tugging furiously; Becky appeared unconcerned.
"Come on, what'd you expect? I see you every week in church, then the day after the Labor Day Incident you don't show. After seeing the footage, I started to worry. Then when you didn't show up for school, for a whole week... I was really scared. You should have called."
"Why? I hardly even knew you then."
"How quickly we forget. Freshman year. You tutored me for Intro to Physical Science, remember? Though I didn't really need it -- man, it takes smarts to pretend to be dumb. --Oh, don't look so hurt, you're really a good tutor. I was just hoping you'd teach me other things... but you just weren't ready." She squeezed him again. "Hmm, I think he's ready now."
"All this time. You've been stalking me."
"I happen to see you at the mall after you disappeared for a week. That's stalking? You were with some girl, of course I'm not gonna just walk right up and ask you where you've been. How awkward would that be?"
"And Angela?"
"I said I was bored. And worried about you. You missed the first three days of school. You missed church! Then I see you spending a king's ransom on some girl... let's face it, that's not normal behavior. I didn't want to confront you or talk to your dad without all the facts."
It almost sounded reasonable.
"Okay, Becky. I'm sorry. I overreacted. You're right -- Angela's not right for me. In fact, I already broke up with her. Last night was a mistake. But let's just talk, okay? Without the handcuffs."
"Oh no, Mister Smooth Talker, you're not getting out of this one. Not as long as this huge prick is begging to be used."
"I thought you were a nice girl. I don't like you like this."
"Oh hush. You liked Angela. Don't you understand what I'm offering you here?"
"Yes... and I- I appreciate it. I do. It's what I wanted. Just not right now. Not like this. I'm actually more of a romantic."
"That's the problem with boys. They say they want the nice girl. What they need is hot sweaty sex. Especially you. You've got issues."
"So let's talk about those."
"I see what you're trying to do, Ricky. That's why I fell in love with you -- you're smart. You've always been smart. I knew it ever since you corrected Reverend Malcolm."
Ricky visibly struggled to remember, then: "I was *nine*!"
"Yeah, and you were cute even then. A little small, but cute. But now look at you." She leaned back and flicked his dick, watching it bob and weave. "You've grown up big and strong."
She hopped on the bed, straddling his thighs, leaning forward so her tummy just grazed his erection.
"So, Mr. Big Boner, I'm just gonna fuck your brains out, as many times as it takes to get *her* out of your system. Come on, it'll be fun!"
"Becky..." He began to squirm more desperately.
"Shh. I'm not Becky." She reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a little princess tiara, setting it in her wig very deliberatly.
"I'm Sapphire."
"Stop it. I don't want this. You- mmmphh!" The gag tasted bitter and dry.
"Now hush. You'll thank me in the morning." She straddled him, pressing her swollen pussy up against the base of his shaft.
Ricky twisted back and forth, trying to shake her, but she just grabbed his cock and squeezed. She glared at him, not angry, but commanding. "I'm not letting go," she said.
It was clear she wasn't just talking about his dick in her hand.
Ricky's eyes clamped shut as she enveloped him.
It was happening again . . .