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From: Margie Donnadieu <margie_donnadieu@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ice (MF anal dark) by Margie Donnadieu
Date: Tue, 18 Jul 2000 05:10:03 -0400
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Author's note: there's some reference to incest in this
story, but it's pretty tame.
Ice
Winter, crisp as glass. The heater makes the room smell like
dust. Outside, a lone child makes angels in the snow.
Mark is asleep, naked. He sleeps like a boy; he rests his cheek
upon his hand.
I am not an attractive woman. But he was drunk last night.
#
When I was a girl, my mother told me a story about a witch who
seduced all the men in the village. The wives hated her and
prayed for the gods to punish her. For violating the sanctity
of marriage, the gods entombed her in ice for all eternity.
#
I shower, brush my teeth. When I enter the bedroom, I see that
Mark has already left.
#
On the way to work, I pass a graveyard of cars. A hood,
half-covered with snow, lies disembodied on the asphalt.
#
I work as a counselor for victims of rape and incest. One
woman, a yogist and tai-chi teacher, tells me how her father and
his friends used to sit around and take turns fucking her up the
ass.
Another woman, a prostitute, tells me how her client wanted to
give her oral. She refused, but he kept nagging her until she
gave in. Her orgasm took her by surprise; at first, she didn't
realize she was coming.
I think of Mark, suckling on my breast like a baby. I wonder if
he ever wanted to rape a woman.
#
There are no messages on my answering machine when I get home.
I take out my address book. A dozen or so acquaintances I can
just call up and sleep with. No true friends.
#
He is deep inside me. It is dark. I cannot see his face. We
do not kiss.
#
His hands tell me to turn over onto my stomach. I comply.
Slowly, insistently, he presses into my anus.
#
When I was a girl, I asked my mother if any of the men tried to
save the witch.
"No," she said. "After her spell was broken, none of them cared
about her."
#
He leaves in the middle of the night. Half awake, I listen to
the sound of his bare feet padding in the next room. There is a
pause while he puts his shoes on, then the sound of the door.
I feel like crying, but instead I force myself to remain
perfectly motionless. I fantasize about being dead.
Suddenly, I panic. I turn on the light, reach for my address
book. I open it to a random page and dial.
"Hello," someone answers.
I say nothing, listen to the sound of his breathing until he
finally hangs up.
#
I cannot sleep. I put on my clothes and step outside.
A thin layer of ice has formed over the damp snow that blankets
the earth.
#
On the bus, the man sitting behind me is drunk. Sometimes, he
slams his fist into my seat, but I am strangely unafraid.
We are the only two passengers.
#
The air in the bar is hazy with smoke. A man sits at a table.
There is an emptiness in his eyes that I recognize, and I go to
him. Before he speaks, I already know he will never ask for
marriage or children, just a few moments of physical comfort.
He opens his mouth to speak, and the ritual begins.
#
On the way to my apartment, we do not talk. I take one of his
fingers, slide it in and out of my mouth.
He doesn't react.
#
The sex is cold, but frenzied. I bite him, and he holds me
down.
Afterwards, half asleep, I feel his weight on me. For a moment,
it feels like he is pressing me through the mattress and into
the earth.
I panic, tell him to leave.
#
It's 4 am. The darkness is stifling. I can't breathe.
A memory surfaces.
#
I am thirteen. It is late at night. I'm touching myself under
the sheets.
A figure moves in the darkness. It is my father's friend. He's
watching me.
Tiny spasms pass through my body.
#
Later, a hand over my mouth. A tearing between my legs.
Minutes pass. My body begins to respond.
#
I tell no one, yet she knows. His wife blames me.
"You bewitched him."
I believe her.
#
I'm thirty. I'm touching myself, thinking of him.
It's hard, sweaty work, but I finally come, and then I can
breath again.
It has begun to snow. As I fall asleep, I imagine the flakes
landing on my body. The cold numbness spreads.
I dream of the sea. A lone bird walks across the frozen
surface.
--
margie_donnadieu@yahoo.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/margie_donnadieu/www/
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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