Chapter 21

By early morning, when I tore myself from slumber on the carpet beside the bed, there were no more messages from Dave. However, I discovered somebody—Derrin?—had used my phone to send photos to him. The first was of me being ridden hard in the limo. Wide-mouthed face stuck through the window, I was screaming into the night.

Then there was a series from the apartment. In one, I was glistening under the lights with eyes glazed, being passed from a cluster of exhausted looking men to a nearby pile of waiting basalt gods. Hungry looks adorned their faces as my clawed hands stroked long, black cocks. There was even a short audio message.

“Cock! Somebody feed the party slut! Feed me! Oh...” My strident, pleading voice trailed off into wet slurping and glug-glugging when somebody indeed fed me.

The final photo was of me floating on my back in the hot tub, glittering boobs arching from the bubbles. White droplets and streaks glinted in the morning sunlight while a dark, shiny wrist poked into the frothy water between my outstretched legs.

Time expanded and then stopped.

My gaze locked on the look of euphoric bliss in my semi-closed eyes. With a gasp, I came to my senses and my fingers slammed on the phone’s keypad to send Dave a text. At least tell him I was alive. And that I missed him. That I ... That I still wanted him.

Blocked

“What the...?”

Blocked! Not even let it go unanswered. He’d had to go out of his way to set up that response. Chest tightened and with a chill slashing through me, I dialed his number. Already preparing a contrite greeting, my heart raced when the dial tone ended, but instead of a ring, three tones sounded.

“The customer is not accepting incoming calls from this number,” a robotic woman’s voice intoned.

“Fuck!” the unrobotic panicky woman replied.

While wracking my brain and shaking, I gazed at the wobbling phone. Dave had never done that before. We’d had our share of arguments, but always agreed to talk through them.

Aha!

After dialing my office long distance routing system number, I waited as the call bounced around the network. It would appear to be coming from my job.

“The customer is not accepting incoming calls from this number,” robo-bitch droned robotically.

“Fuck! Fuck!”

But Dave hadn’t said no! Not once! Or said anything, really.

Okay, so the after-party was too much. It’d be alright, though. He’d be sitting at home. We’d make love and everything would be fine. Talk it out and maybe I wouldn’t do ... Or maybe he just wanted to not come along next time. Would there even be a next time?

I can stop if he wants me to.

I guess.

But I’ll miss it.

Pumped with pain meds and reeling from—everything, my brain whizzed.

I miss him. Dave. Not Troy. Well, perhaps Troy. But definitely Dave. My husband. Not the hunky Dave from the balcony so long ago. My first blowjob. Well, not including Allen. Or Dave. I wonder where he is these days. Hunky Dave, not my husband. Okay, him. Yes, where’s my husband?

Blackness.

After awakening and spending the rest of the night sitting atop homemade ice packs in the empty hotel room, my rescheduled flight was a blur of uneven motion intermixed with pain. One minute, I was gulping cool water and chomping frozen cubes between sore jaws; the next was deep blackness. When at last a taxi dropped me at home, that time without a parting blowjob, it was long past sundown. But no lights, not even the outside ones we always left on, shone on the front walk’s cracked flagstones. The little plastic wheels of my suitcase ker- clunked behind me as I staggered towards the front door.

After shoving it open, my heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach. Instead of Dave standing there, angry but concerned, only silence and darkness greeted me.

Silent fucking darkness!

My life now!

Warm tears flooded my eyes and slid down icy cheeks. They didn’t stop as I stumbled into the cold house and clambered upstairs to the equally chilly and dark bedroom. Nope, no sign of my husband at all.

Dave had never come home.

While shaking with sobs, I tossed dirty clothes into the hamper. After a quick shower, I curled into a tight ball in the middle of the cold bed. Shivering, I cursed myself over and over until mercifully my mind crumpled into an exhausted slumber.

A scream ripped from my lips during the night. Nightmare? Perhaps, but the sharp pains deep inside me seemed the most likely cause. In the gloom, I slipped from the mattress to fumble for water, more pain pills and ice packs. While the cooling numbed my underside, I sat gingerly at the dining table in the dark, staring at my silent phone.

After gulping another glass of ice water, I texted once more. Tears welled when I received the same response—blocked.

“Dave...” Words failed me and my achy skull crumpled to my crossed arms on the tabletop. Strengthening sobs wracked my battered frame.

When I pried my sticky eyelids apart, the sound of birds chirping greeted me. After a very slow roll of my head, I gazed across the table, blinking in the bright sunlight. Morning, already? With a tight grimace, I stood and refilled my glass, clasping my midsection whenever a spasm slashed through me. Mind wandering to the last sight of my husband in the dance club window, I ate a light breakfast.

All of a sudden, my phone, then tablet, started beeping.

Dave! I’m so sorry.

In my rush to answer my husband’s calls, my shaking fingers missed the buttons, but I tried once again and finally opened the phone.

It wasn’t Dave.

My stomach dropped.

Instead, pictures appeared. Me, on the dance floor, half-naked between Troy and his friend. Me, in the back room, screaming into the bright ceiling lights while impaled on both him and the other muscled giant. More arrived, one after the other. An avalanche of imagery. All were still shots from videos taken in the club, the car, the elevator, the apartment, and the hot tub.

The world spun.

Thunk.

The phone had slipped from my fingers to the tabletop.

The entire day was nothing but a barely lucid haze. Skull throbbing, I wandered the house, weeping or napping on the couch, at the table, or finally in bed until hunger drove me back downstairs.

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