Afterlife by Joey W. Hill Page B

he
    pivoted, she noticed he
    was careful to protect her head and
    shoulders from the tal
    lamp next to her end table in the
    sitting room before he
    headed back to her bedroom.
    “This can’t work,” she said, even
    more panicked.
    “Please, Jon…”
    He slid her off his shoulder, pushing
    her to a sitting
    position on the bed. Bracing a long
    arm on either side of
    her, he clamped his hands over her
    wrists, keeping her
    palms flat on the mattress. Then he
    put his mouth on hers,
    in such a strong and penetrating kiss
    that her head was
    pushed backward and the muscles of
    her arms flexed
    against his hold, trying to stay
    upright. What little rational
    thought she had scattered beneath that
    demand, her whole
    body shifting focus to the heat of his
    mouth, the tangle of his
    tongue with hers, the moisture
    between their mouths. When
    he lifted his head, she felt dazed,
    staring into his eyes.
    “Why won’t it work, Rachel?”
    “I…I told you. I don’t…I can’t…”
    “You can’t have an orgasm. And it’s
    hard for you to get
    wet.”
    She nodded, tel ing herself she
    wouldn’t humiliate herself
    with more tears. And she couldn’t
    lie, couldn’t pretend it
    was early menopause. Despite being
    naked and dripping
    from the shower, as wel as
    completely out of her element,
    she had to strive for maturity here, to
    face reality. Maybe he
    could get her wet between her legs,
    but there was that hard
    knot low in her stomach that would
    remain there, a knot that
    had been weathered by so much
    disappointment and so
    many salty tears there was nothing
    that could untie it
    anymore. And that knot stood in the
    way of any type of
    release.
    “Al right then. Fair enough. You’ve
    told me, now we’l do
    things my way.”
    “But I can stil … I have lubricant,
    and anything you want…”
    He didn’t move. “So if I use you like
    a whore, al for my
    own benefit, that’s al right?”
    “I didn’t mean it that way.” Stung,
    she tried to pul her
    hands back, but of course his grip
    was immovable.
    “I think it’s time for you to stop
    talking.” A gentle note re-
    entered his voice, unexpected, as was
    the hand that
    cupped the back of her head, fingers
    diving into her hair as
    he changed the angle of his mouth.
    Now he laid his lips
    over one eye, which closed at his
    approach. She felt his
    tender caress there, a smal touch of
    his tongue at the
    corner, absorbing her tear. Then he
    did it to the other side.
    “Keep your eyes closed and I want
    you to go back to your
    breathing, only more in-depth this
    time. Through the nose
    for three seconds, hold three seconds,
    out through the
    mouth for three seconds. Focus only
    on that, and I
    command everything else. Do it,
    Rachel.”
    Even though the idea of anything
    calming her down at
    this point seemed incredible, she
    knew it couldn’t do her
    any harm. And maybe it would block
    the flood of al those
    other distressing thoughts his far-too-
    sharp observation
    had brought surging forth. She drew
    in the first breath,
    leaving her eyes closed.
    When he drew his touch away, she
    heard the briefcase
    opening. “Keep them closed and keep
    breathing. Three,
    two, one…” He counted it off slow,
    as she did during class.
    He kept counting, so she focused, fol
    owing him, wondering
    what he was doing.
    At the beginning of her classes, she
    used pranayama ,
    the yoga breathing exercises, to stil
    other external forces.
    To help her students leave behind
    their worries, focus only
    on their practice and make the most
    of it. She knew he was
    likely using it for the same reason
    here, helping her set her
    fears aside to experience this. But as
    she kept breathing,
    she found he had other equal y
    powerful ways of turning her
    attention only to what was happening
    in the here and now.
    Putting a knee on the bed, he slid his
    arms under her
    knees, her back. He turned her, so her
    head was partly off
    the foot end of the mattress, and
    guided her hands out