Elouise Edron - In The Night Time

CHAPTER THREE

THE WEEKEND

It was Saturday morning. The only day each week I didn't have to wake to my alarm blaring at some ungodly hour. My eyes opened to sunlight. 7:17am revealing itself in illuminated form. Heaven. No university or work for me today, and I was ready for some serious self-care.

I stretched my limbs reaching for all corners of the bed, arching my back like a cat. I needed to shower, shave my legs, wash my hair, paint my nails, make breakfast, go to the gym, prep some meals for the week, make some snacks, and later I had to prepare for a blind date that my house-mate insisted upon after she, allegedly, met my ‘perfect man’.

I wasn't enthralled, but she assured me that “he's such a nice guy!” and it had been a while since I went on a date. A long while in fact. Don't nice guys always finish last? I didn’t date often, and when I did, I found it a drag. Most guys my age were heavily into their careers and didn’t have time for much else accept drinking away the weekends, and spending Sundays hungover on the couch. It wasn’t exactly what I was looking for in a mate, but for now, I didn’t have many options.

Perhaps the first point of order, was a little procrastination to mentally organize my day. I pulled back the covers, revealing my raggedy Minnie Mouse night shirt, with stitching on the hem coming undone. I'd had it for so long, it was starting to get ratty, yet it made me smile, remembering the time my parents had taken me to the ‘happiest place on earth’. I wished I could afford to go back there right now to escape this stressful normality I had formed around me.

The apartment was deathly quiet. I couldn't hear my housemate’s voice, so assumed she stayed at her boyfriend’s place. The quiet patter of rain droplets hit my window pane, which didn’t make me want to rush off to the gym, nor even get out of bed.

I slid the second drawer of my bedside table open to reveal my special ‘toy’. It was a gift from my best friend Angela, who now lived in South America after following her boyfriend to teach yoga and "be at one with nature." As a parting gift, she’d bought me a big black dildo in lieu of a boyfriend. I’d been single for the past two years, ever since my ex broke my heart, and to be fair, I was a little starved for action.

I held onto its gooey flesh taking it back under the covers, leading the tip down my torso, and towards my magic spot. I grabbed the unsuspecting coconut oil off my nightstand, and lathered some over its end, allowing two fingers to slide gently inside, warming up the climate for some heated action. I was hungry for it.

I pulled down my panties, and let them constrict around my ankles, feeling a little bound. I started to play with my clit with the residue of oil left on my fingers living into my latest fantasy…

A brooding man entered my room, picking me up with his hulking arms, holding me tightly against his bare chest, and fucking me hard against the wall in my nightie. His strong biceps rippled with veins, pulsing blood through his body and with his cock so hard it would perfectly hit my G-spot. His sweat dripped onto my body, soaking my nightshirt, revealing my nipples that stood up so hard they rivalled his rock-hard member. He held onto my throat, and told me to be quiet and do as I was told, and that if I played nice, he’d leave as soon as he was done and wouldn't hurt me. With one breath, he flipped me around to face the wall, pulling my hips into his.

I grabbed my toy, and inserted it into my now dripping pussy. My thoughts returned to the imposing man having his way with me, pounding me hard and deep. I loved the idea of rough sex, yet all the partners I’d had were so timid, treating me like a princess, or worse yet, a prude. Too polite. Too concerned they might offend me with foul language. Too… boring.

"Bang!"

Shit! what was that? I stopped in my tracks. I was still panting at the scenario racing through my head, my sheets wet with sweat, and my heart racing. I quickly hid my little black friend deep under the covers as if I was about to be sprung by the police.

"Heeelloooooooo?"

Samantha was home. I heard a giggle and then her boyfriend Rick’s voice followed, laughing about the man at the bakery with the rough Irish accent that they couldn't understand.

"Yer want some brad than?" he asked before they both burst into giggles.

My moment had passed. No way I could’ve climaxed thinking about an Irish man with a French stick. Well, not this time at least.

I wiped down 'Big Black' with tissues from my night stand, and put him to rest in his satin sleeping bag. It had been almost two years since I'd had sex, and aside from my rather lively mindset; I was otherwise high and dry.

"Morning Sam, morning Rick," I said loud enough to reach down the long hall.

"Good morning BIANCA," they said in unison like I was a school teacher. Pfft. Stupid lovebirds. Can't do anything alone.

I threw on my robe and fluffy pink slippers, and headed for the bathroom to finish calming down and spray myself with something a little more tropical than the scent of a woman on heat. More than anything, I wanted to slip into the tub with headphones, and a glass of champagne like that scene from Pretty Woman, but alas, the last time I could afford anything more than a clear skin wine was well before my student life. Shower time then.

With a towel around my head, I put on some tights, boots, a black leather mini and a high-necked, figure hugging black tank with a small gold 'Om' symbol on the back. While I might not look like the typical yogini, it was s the only practice that kept my head above water and stopped me from drowning in my own sorrows.

Pursing my lips at the mirror, I checked out my side profile, enjoying seeing a more defined jawline after battling with the post-break-up bulge that had taken two years to defeat. I wasn't perfect, but in my eyes, I probably never would be. I was a work in progress.

"BYE!" I yelled out to Samantha, but I could only hear giggles coming from her bedroom and rolled my eyes at the thought of her getting lucky when she had so rudely interrupted my own little slice of paradise.

***

"I can't believe it's six o'clock already!" I exclaimed to my now solo house mate. "I haven't even finished my meal prepping for the week, and I need to leave in ten minutes!"

“That's what you're wearing?" Her question was scornful as she checked out my ripped tights and messy hair. "You could at least TRY and look nice. I did mention he’s not the one-night stand type that just wants to fuck and forget?"

I shot her a glare. “Watch your mouth!”

"Learned from the best," she said with a smirk.

She was right, I cussed a lot more now than I ever used to. I just had more to swear about lately.

"I AM wearing this, and if he can't accept that I'm not one of those high-class dolls that can afford designer digs, then he's not for me anyway," I retorted sticking out my tongue.

"Dolls? Did we time-travel back to the fifties or something?"

Ugh. DeGrain had left an impression on me. "Haha, yeah, and it's time for this desperate housewife to get out of the kitchen and get what she really wants," I replied with a wink. I raised the hem of my skirt to reveal the top of my lace stay-ups, and promptly walked out of the room.

"Bianca!" she yelled down the hall as if following me. "Don't break his heart!"

I slammed the front door behind me, putting on my most positive, beaming smile that set an intention – tonight, I might just meet someone special.

By the time I arrived at what I thought was to be a restaurant, my emotional state was now one of misshapen hope as I entered through the door of a blue-collar bar several suburbs away. Another night, another bar I thought to myself. Was this what life had really come to?