Anywhere But Here

The white of the gown reminded Lorraine of the first fallen snow on the first day of winter. A Vera Wang original the bodice was cut low to show her curves but not low enough to be indecent. She was getting married in a church not a whore house after all. The work of art hung regally, constructed of organza and beads that hung on the fabric like tiny diamonds. Lorraine stood in front of her form fitting A line wedding dress in silent wonder. Tomorrow with the help of her bridesmaids, she would carefully step in to it, starting the rest of her life. Tomorrow, May 18th would be the realization of a day she had dreamed of since she turned thirteen. Despite having just returned from her rehearsal dinner she hadn't been able to eat anything. Instead of eating, she openly stared at her husband to be, Maxwell, as if he would disappear if she took her eyes of him for even a second. Her stomach gurgled in protest but she was to wound up to even contemplate the idea of food right now. She knew the tradition.

The bride and groom to be must suffer a night without each other before the big day. Technically, it wasn't her big day yet. She still had 45 minutes until it was her official wedding day. Just enough time to get naughty, she thought. Maxwell always knew the best way to put her to sleep. Lorraine traced the delicate outline of her dress once more before she turned on her heel and headed for her dresser. Slipping from her fuchsia nightgown, she quickly got into a white tank top and her Victoria Secret gray sweat pants. They were Maxwell's favorite, "I love the way the words PINK raise of the glorious mountains of your ass", he would always say. Grabbing a condom and her and purse, she nearly tripped over herself in her haste to get to him. Luckily he lived 15 minutes away which left 30 minutes to satisfy an itch before the clock struck 12. The street signs, stop lights and cars blurred in Lorraine's vision as all her thoughts focused on Maxwell.

She pined for him for two years in college. That first day of freshman year, she pummeled her way through the onslaught of first year students navigating though the Language and Liberal Arts building at Arizona State University and right in to his solid chest. Perfectly shaped lips formed a panty dropping smile. Those sexy lips parted revealing the most perfect set of teeth she had ever seen. His dentist should have been nominated for sainthood, she had thought. They gleamed as his baritone inflected voice almost sung, "excuse me". Lorraine's arms went weak dropping the load of books she had nestled in the crook of her arm. Muttering and sputtering, she instinctively bent to retrieve them. Unbeknownst to Lorraine, he had the same idea. They collided on the way back up. The back of his head slammed in to her jaw. The force sent her teeth slicing in to her unsuspecting tongue. A river of blood flowed through her mouth; she fought the urge to spit the copper taste onto the floor. Praying that the earth would split open at the very moment and gobble her up, she mumbled her apologies and scurried away.

Lorraine hoped she hadn't clipped him with the tail that hung loosely between her legs as fled cursing her clumsiness. Mr. Sexy called out to her but she was too embarrassed to will her body to turn around and answer him. A horn blew in the distance bringing her back in to present day. Recalling that encounter brought a hearty laughter rumbling from her chest. Now just a few blocks from Maxwell's condo, Lorraine smiled knowing that awkward chubby train wreck from way back when had transformed and she was going to get the guy. She pulled up to the guard shack of Maxwell's luxurious complex. Felix, the security guard on duty, congratulated her on the impending nuptials and waved her through the gates. She was the one that insisted they sleep apart but she couldn't keep up her end of the bargain. Grinning like a dog with juiciest bone buried in the backyard, she parked, flew out of her car and bounded up the steps to Maxwell's condo.

Balancing her Coach satchel on her extended thigh, she dug for what seemed like hours for her spare key. The bottomless pit of a satchel refused to cough up those damn keys. Ahh Huh, she exclaimed a little louder than she intended as her fingers grazed the key ring that housed her spare key. She was positive that dirt from China was impacted under her nails considering how deep she had to excavate in order to find her key. She opened the door and was greeted with darkness. Feeling on the wall for a light switch, finger tips searched until she found it. Flicking it on, she surveyed the living room. Maxwell's condo was vast. Vaulted ceilings, track lighting and marble presented themselves in all their glory. She took pride in the fact that Maxwell has entrusted the honor of decorating his home to her. She had used a minimalist but modern style, making sure to balance his masculinity with her feminine sensibilities. It had come together perfectly. She placed her satchel on his 5000 dollar patent leather black couch. Easing herself out of her sneakers, she started towards the bedroom. She advanced towards the room only to be stopped dead in barefoot tracks by a single moan. Baffled, she surmised that it might be his neighbors who had just moved in a few weeks ago.

They were newly married and on a few occasions could be heard expressing their love for one another through the walls. Lorraine smiled to herself, in a few hours she would join the ranks of the many newlywed and extremely horny couples in Arizona. She continued towards the rear of the condo. The sound was more profound there. As she got closer, she realized the sound was unmistakably coming from a bedroom in the condo. Apprehensively, she continued, stopping in front Maxwell's bedroom door. It was slung open which was out of character for Maxwell because he had an extreme case of OCD. Everything had to be tidy and in it's place or he literally couldn't function. She stepped over the threshold of his bedroom and was immediately stricken with the sight unfolding before her shocked eyes. Her eyes adjusted and fell on Maxwell's smooth chocolate covered back which glistened with a sheet of sweat.

Her eyes continued on their journey down his body skimming over his toned ass, sculpted to perfection seemingly by Michelangelo himself. His cheeks flexed as he thrust wildly in to the writhing creature beneath him. Lorraine rubbed her eyes with her knuckles hoping this was just her vengeful imagination playing tricks on her. It wasn't. Maxwell, her Maxwell, was pounding in to some whore at lightening speed on what was to be their martial bed. Her pristinely painted big toe dug painfully in to the fibers of his plush carpet. She gripped the wall like it was the only thing standing between her and a face plant in to the carpet. An orchestra of dread tuned up in her body, her pulse quickened. Her hearted thudded loudly in her chest. This couldn't really be happening, she pleaded with herself. So engrossed in their dastardly act, they hadn't noticed her presence. The foundation could have fallen down around them and they wouldn't have noticed. The slut with her ass pressed firmly against my soon to be husband's groin, wailed Maxwell's name, apparently in utter ecstasy. Her upper body was contorted and flush with the bed, her hair matted on her face.

Having had first hand knowledge of Maxwell's skills in the bedroom, Lorraine had no doubt this tramp was having the time of her life. The screams of this wild banshee, coupled with the smack of wet bodies colliding failed to hide the hint of recognition currently ringing in her ears. Initially struggling to place that familiar voice, her jaw hung open at the realization of who her fiancé was currently banging. The gutter whore with her nails digging in to the flesh of her man was Nicole, her best friend since high school. The two people she loved most in the world had betrayed her on the eve of what supposed to be the most important day of her life. A heart wrenching sob gathered strength in her diaphragm before it traveled to her throat. There it stayed collecting a lump in her throat, cutting off her air supply. The sob saw its chance to escape but Lorraine quickly held it back. Quietly she backed out of the bedroom. Shaking her head, tears brimmed in her eyes. Lorraine's sorrowful moonwalk continued in to the living room but was abruptly halted by that damn overpriced couch. It grazed the back of her thighs, obstructing her retreat. God knows how long she stood there, hands hanging limply at her sides.

The thoughts in her mind were too heavy for her head to support. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw a red bag tucked against a leg of the couch on the floor. She lifted her chin which was resting on her chest. It was the red Hermès Burkin bag that Nicole had begged Lorraine for three years ago. Nicole knew that Lorraine had endless connections due to her blossoming writing career. She had all but promised to hand over her first born child if Lorraine got her the bag. She excitedly gave it to Nicole on Christmas after pretending she couldn't get her hands on one. Now there it was mocking her while its owner had mattress mambo with the love of her life. Agonized groans brought Lorraine out of her trance. Maxwell was moments from peaking, a fact she was well aware of after all those nights straining under his ministrations. The pent up surge of rage broke through its barrier and before Lorraine knew it, she was in the kitchen caressing the handle of an absurdly expensive stain less steel kitchen knife.

She ran her fingers lightly across the blade with a little too much pressure. Nicking her finger, she watched transfixed as the blood collected in a pool at the tip of the blade. She pressed her finger against her lips to ebb the flow of blood making its presence known on her finger. Her feet took over guiding her towards the direction of that bastard's bedroom. The initial sting of her bleeding finger had dissipated, she felt nothing nor could she see anything but revenge. Her slow calculated steps edged closer towards their destination but almost instantly an invisible force pivoted her feet in another direction. Walking towards the bag, she picked it up. Marveling at its beauty even after all these years, she turned it upside down. Taking the knife, Lorraine teased the blade almost seductively along the girth of the bag. Suddenly she jammed the knife in to the belly of the bag, dragging it across its length. Lorraine laughed silently to herself as she butchered the innocent bag, thinking that her insides had already shared the same fate. She was meticulous in her destruction. She made sure she cut through the fibers of the lining as well. Satisfied with her handy work, she carefully gathered the split bag together and placed it back in the position she had found it in on the floor. Twirling the knife like a baton, Lorraine walked gingerly back to the kitchen returning the knife to its home.

She hurriedly collected her belongings, tucked her pride in her pocket and left Maxwell's condo. The heated air smacked her in the face as a lone tear cascaded down her cheek. The shrill beep on her car alarm traveled through the air. Sitting in her car, she picked up her phone to call her best friend. She absentmindedly roamed through the contacts successfully finding Nicole's number, her finger lingered over the tiny green phone button. It slowly dawned on her that the person she wanted comfort from was the same person that has just broken her heart. Nicole, her best friend, was lost to her forever. She threw her phone in to the bowels of her car and sped away.