I mumbled something. I had dragged her to my room and pushed her on my bed, and right now I was sucking on her nipple.
She was always rather detached, I noticed, when we fucked. Jaded. That was my only worry about taking up whoring as an activity: that it would make the sex routine. I liked it too much to spoil the fun by overdoing it. She needed cocaine to really get it on. I did not want coke to become a crutch for sex. I wanted to do it because it made me feel good.
I let go of her turgid bud and stared at her.
She was holding the pyramid in her hand, a smoldering cigarette pinched between two fingers.
“That’s a gift,” I said.
I took it from her hands, and placed it back on the night stand. I picked the dildo instead.
“This is what you were looking for,” I said.
I made a show of sucking on it. Juliet grinned, and laid back, supporting herself on her elbows. “Turn off the light,” she said.
I placed the tip of the vibrator against her twat, and as I pushed it in, I turned my bedside lamp off.
Juliet gasped and the pyramid flashed an eerily green light.
Following the red tip of her cigarette, I found Juliet’s mouth and sucked on her tongue with abandon.
#
Waking up was like coming down from the best high in my life.
I groaned and sat up in bed, looking around.
The crystal pyramid sat on my night stand, by the alarm clock.
I ran a hair through my hair. Short bangs.
I nibbled at my thumb’s nail. Short, nicely trimmed, not painted.
I sighed. Had it been a dream?
Relief, sure, but also a sharp shard of regret.
In my dream it had been fun, being a wild, depraved whore.
I chuckled, placed the crystal toy in the night stand drawer, and went to the bathroom. My mother called a hello from the kitchen. My old, boring, plain mother, a woman of sixty in a simple skirt and a blouse, a blue bow holding her gray hair in place.
I gave her my good morning and sat down for breakfast. Coffee and cereals.
My mother poured the coffee. I squirmed on my chair, remembering her on her knees, silicon tits bouncing, sucking on the delivery boy’s engorged cock with abandon.
I shook my head.
“We better hurry,” my mom said, spreading butter on a piece of toast. “Aunt Bernice is waiting for us at ten.”
Yeah. Shopping and then lunch with aunt Berenice.
I stopped, the coffee cup halfway to my lips.
“Weren’t we supposed to see Aunt Berny on Monday?”
My mother stared at me.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “This morning, at ten.”
I downed the coffee in a single gulp. My heart was trying to leap through my chest, blood roaring in my ears.
“Yes, of course,” I said, trying to smile. “I’m still half asleep.”
I poured myself another cup. “I better drink another,” I quipped.
My mother shook her head, smiling. “Too much coffee is not good for your health.”
I remember sharing a bong with her, chatting happily, playing footie.
“Hurry up and get dressed.”
#
I went through the rest of the day like a sleepwalker.
I put on my usual drab clothes, I drove with my mother to meet my aunt. Our street was back to normal, small shops and city cars parked along clean, respectable sidewalks.
We went shopping, we chattered of this and that and nothing registered with me. I was thinking about the weekend.
Two days I had completely lost.
No, not exactly. Two days I had spent in somewhere else, in another reality, behaving like a total slut with the smiling approbation of my equally slutty mother. Fucking with enthusiasm both men and women. Doing drugs. Starting out as a whore. Being totally indecent. I caught myself in the act of caressing my breast: small, fully covered, without any piercing.
The day crawled to an end, dull and insufferable. We saw aunt Bernice on her way and drove back. We dined. My mother went back to her crossword puzzles and I announced I’d retire early.
“Weren’t you supposed to see Juliet?”
I sighed.
Juliet, the coke-snorting hooker living in front of us.
No, scratch that. Juliet my geeky friend from the front apartment, the chatty paramedic.
“She’s working at the hospital tonight,” I said.
I closed the door to my room behind me and hurried to extract the pyramid from the drawer. The fluted sides refracted light in a million colors. I turned it this way and that, but apart from the weight, it was a normal piece of glass.
I held it in my hands, my mind in turmoil.
I read the leaflet again and again.
Each decision we make sets us on a path towards the future. But what of the decision we did not take?
Are they dead and buried, or are they, each one of them, the starting point of another universe, one in which we followed a different path, creating a new universe, a new version of ourselves, a different life.
I checked the alarm clock. Nine pm.
In eight hours I’d be on my way to work, to spend eight hours in a squalid cubicle, answering phones and filling spreadsheets with numbers.
The pyramid promised something else.
I rubbed my thighs together.
It promised sex, unchecked. It promised a body designed for sin and a mind hell bent on sinning.
I was caressing my tit.
I needed a cigarette.
My thoughts scared me.
I needed some coke.
With a sigh, I placed the pyramid on my nightstand, slipped under the covers and turned out the light. The crystal glowed purple in the dark for a few heartbeats, and then was the darkness.
I fell asleep, hoping.
# # #
And this is it for the time being... but you can find more here, and another story will be serialized in a few weeks.
Emily is going to have quite few adventures yet.
Refractions: Beginning includes an expanded version of The Prism, plus the two sequels, Married Bliss and Mistress.
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