last night I could feel London Bex start to rear her ugly needy head.
The switch flipped when he asked me “What sort of girl” I was.
I feel repulsed at myself this morning.
Joshua stayed all night and the whole night I battled the switch. Part of me hating him being there and wanting him to touch me. The other half of me trying to edge him into taking it further.
He didn’t. No matter how hard I pushed in my darker moments.
Finally he pulled away from me, a wide smile stretched across his face, a beautiful smile.
“Rebecca Walters. Stop trying to steal my virtue, a no is a no.”
I could feel against me that he didn’t really want to say no. The fact that he did instilled in me some calm that I haven’t felt in a long time. I don’t have to be anything that I don’t want to be. I don’t have to give anything or do anything I don’t want to.
Finally I was able to relax and not live by one of my labels, even for one short night. In doing that I started to experience thing’s I’d never felt before. My skin was just burning with my need to have him next to me, skin on skin. The moon shone on his shoulders like silver as he leant down to kiss me, his lips firm and sure as he explored me with his hands. It felt like I wanted to die from needing more.
He was gone this morning when I woke. Next to me on the pillow was a sketch of me on a folded piece of paper. It shows me lying on the bed with my eyes closed, my hair spread over the pillow and half of my face.
I looked at the piece of paper in my hand and the peaceful expression on my face. And then with a shock I realised that with all the strange things that happened last night; a boy in my bed, and mammoth kissing sessions. There was one thing that didn’t happen. I didn’t have any nightmares.
Ten Days to go.
Cream Tea
After I’ve showered, I take a long and hard look at myself in the mirror. If I could be that girl from last night maybe I could lose one of those labels after all? Maybe the people here would never know to call me that? Unable to find any profound answer to my question in my mirror image I trek down the stairs. The cottage is deserted so I am guessing the Munch Bunch are out for the day. That’s a bit annoying, I would have asked Joshua to stay for breakfast if I knew they were going out early.
I scour the kitchen looking for something to eat. I find a bloomer of bread and hack off a doorstep which I butter and jam. The first mouthful does not go down well. It tastes like, well like bread and jam, but it is not what I want. I am feeling a little restless, more so than normal, and I know the reason why and it is very annoying. I just want to see Joshua again. I want to find the boy made of moon and have breakfast with him. I’ve never shared a meal with a guy in my life, especially breakfast but today I want to. I find my door key on the sideboard and slip on my flip flops and head out. I am sure I can track him down somewhere.
I go by the shop but it is closed, a sign on the door saying that it will be open again in twenty minutes. I turn my attention up and down the limited row of shops. The tea room beckons me with steamy windows so I head towards it, not entirely sure what I am looking for. Am I still looking for Joshua? Or am I now in search of a sticky bun and a cup of tea?
A sticky bun wouldn’t be bad.
Checking my pocket I make sure I have my left over change from my bonus fiver – I have officially only spent seventy pence since being here. It’s a miracle.
I don ’t find a sticky bun, but I do find Joshua.
He is sat at a far corner, one elbow on the table his head propped in his hand, looking across at the girl from the pictures.
I feel a little wave of sick wash over me and my body does this annoying rigid thing where I get stuck on the spot unable to move.
So did he, or did he not spend most of the night with his hands over a vast percentage of my body, working me into a crazy frenzy?
This completely
The switch flipped when he asked me “What sort of girl” I was.
I feel repulsed at myself this morning.
Joshua stayed all night and the whole night I battled the switch. Part of me hating him being there and wanting him to touch me. The other half of me trying to edge him into taking it further.
He didn’t. No matter how hard I pushed in my darker moments.
Finally he pulled away from me, a wide smile stretched across his face, a beautiful smile.
“Rebecca Walters. Stop trying to steal my virtue, a no is a no.”
I could feel against me that he didn’t really want to say no. The fact that he did instilled in me some calm that I haven’t felt in a long time. I don’t have to be anything that I don’t want to be. I don’t have to give anything or do anything I don’t want to.
Finally I was able to relax and not live by one of my labels, even for one short night. In doing that I started to experience thing’s I’d never felt before. My skin was just burning with my need to have him next to me, skin on skin. The moon shone on his shoulders like silver as he leant down to kiss me, his lips firm and sure as he explored me with his hands. It felt like I wanted to die from needing more.
He was gone this morning when I woke. Next to me on the pillow was a sketch of me on a folded piece of paper. It shows me lying on the bed with my eyes closed, my hair spread over the pillow and half of my face.
I looked at the piece of paper in my hand and the peaceful expression on my face. And then with a shock I realised that with all the strange things that happened last night; a boy in my bed, and mammoth kissing sessions. There was one thing that didn’t happen. I didn’t have any nightmares.
Ten Days to go.
Cream Tea
After I’ve showered, I take a long and hard look at myself in the mirror. If I could be that girl from last night maybe I could lose one of those labels after all? Maybe the people here would never know to call me that? Unable to find any profound answer to my question in my mirror image I trek down the stairs. The cottage is deserted so I am guessing the Munch Bunch are out for the day. That’s a bit annoying, I would have asked Joshua to stay for breakfast if I knew they were going out early.
I scour the kitchen looking for something to eat. I find a bloomer of bread and hack off a doorstep which I butter and jam. The first mouthful does not go down well. It tastes like, well like bread and jam, but it is not what I want. I am feeling a little restless, more so than normal, and I know the reason why and it is very annoying. I just want to see Joshua again. I want to find the boy made of moon and have breakfast with him. I’ve never shared a meal with a guy in my life, especially breakfast but today I want to. I find my door key on the sideboard and slip on my flip flops and head out. I am sure I can track him down somewhere.
I go by the shop but it is closed, a sign on the door saying that it will be open again in twenty minutes. I turn my attention up and down the limited row of shops. The tea room beckons me with steamy windows so I head towards it, not entirely sure what I am looking for. Am I still looking for Joshua? Or am I now in search of a sticky bun and a cup of tea?
A sticky bun wouldn’t be bad.
Checking my pocket I make sure I have my left over change from my bonus fiver – I have officially only spent seventy pence since being here. It’s a miracle.
I don ’t find a sticky bun, but I do find Joshua.
He is sat at a far corner, one elbow on the table his head propped in his hand, looking across at the girl from the pictures.
I feel a little wave of sick wash over me and my body does this annoying rigid thing where I get stuck on the spot unable to move.
So did he, or did he not spend most of the night with his hands over a vast percentage of my body, working me into a crazy frenzy?
This completely
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