Oblivion & Doubt Ch. 12

She heard wet sounds and soft moans. This wasn't like the shows Miranda and Thom liked to put on, this was something else. She thought of the quiet surreptitious sounds of Thom's masturbation, but then she heard Miranda gag. She was moving again. Using all her strength to turn the doorknob as slowly and steadily as she could. The door swung open in absolute silence. The only sound was Miranda's wet slurping and gagging.

Leethie eased the door silently closed and the knob back into position with the same slow pneumatic force she'd used to open it. The sound of Miranda's blowjob was gone.

Leethie slipped her feet into the shoes and the only sound was little drops hitting their toes. She was crying. Tears poured from her eyes, blinding her. It hardly mattered, she knew the entranceway in the dark. She opened and closed the front door with equal care. And for a moment stood facing the entrance. She was biting her lip, tasted blood, was afraid she would sob, that if she did she would wail and scream and pound her head against the doorway. She took a deep trembling breath and turned away from the farmhouse and walked on brittle weak legs to the Volvo.

She had no memory of the drive into town; of how she'd gotten to her little coach house. She was still crying, her eyes hurt. With her landlords at the coast for the week, Leethie went ahead and parked her car in the garage, and closed herself in the apartment above. For a long time, listening as her answering machine fielded a series of calls, all dead air followed by hang ups. She watched numbly as the sky went from black to overcast. Calling in sick, she closed the blinds and hid. Her landlords had asked her to check their fish while they were gone, and she knew she should do it, but Leethie couldn't even brave that short walk across the yard.

The phone rang a few times that morning; work checking in, more hang ups, Thom saying "Leethie pick up. Leethie you need to pick up! Jesus Leethie, this is bad. She moved out. We need to talk." More hang ups. She let the machine take them all.

She spent the day in bed nauseous, slipping in and out of fitful anxiety dreams of being accused, of being caught, of falling. But as terrible as the dreams were, they were still better than being awake; until they weren't.

She woke up and it was dark. The dream she'd been having had seemed to have been going on for hours, and unlike the anxiety dreams it had been terrifying, was still terrifying. In the dream everything had been too big, or somehow wrong - as if her arms had weighed tons, her fingers had been miles thick. But now that the dream world was gone, the wrongness and the terror clung to her, and something stank. It was a powerful animal smell acrid and musky, she was choking on the stench. She raised her arm and gasped, it was her own body. She stank. It filled her nose like a physical thing, was suffocating and disgusting. She coughed and sat up, afraid she was going to throw up. She felt feverish and parched; didn't know what time it was. The room was familiar, the lights from the street as they should be, but everything was alien and wrong. The fear from the fucking dream was still on her, even sitting up. It wouldn't fade. She was going mad.

She pushed herself out of bed and went to the bathroom. Turning on the light she stared at herself. She stared back at herself in obvious alarm, eyes bloodshot, her skin looked sickly and pale. She splashed her face and drank out of her cupped hands. The water tasted metallic. Her heart was thundering in her chest, she was short of breath; the fucking stink. The dream's terror didn't break.

"Wake the fuck up Leethie!" She stared back at herself in the mirror. Stripping, she turned on the shower, not waiting for the water to warm, she stepped in, hoping the shock would wake her, but it didn't. The fear and the stink of the fear clung to her, even under the water.

She scrubbed at herself but was alarmed when instead of lubricating her skin the soap seemed to stick, leaving sour gluey smears under her arms, on her flanks, and all over her hands. Raising her hands to her face, the soap smelled alkaline. She gagged. Wondered if she'd throw up there in the shower, wondered if it would bring some relief, but she turned the water up as hot as she could stand and scrubbed away the smears of fouled soap.

Leethie was shaking as she toweled off. Her skin was angry red and steaming. The stink filled her nose, was in her nose, coating it. Wrapped in her towel, she stepped out her front door onto the little wood deck. Stood with hips pressed against the rail. Looking out at the lush suburban yards in the half-light, all so well kept, all so perfect.

She took deep breaths, trying to clear the smell from her nose, to escape the fog of terror from the dream, trying to calm herself.

"Wake up Leethie!" She wanted to call Bobbie, tell her everything, and ask her what to do. She imagined Donald picking up, his voice alarmed, imagined Bobbie's voice crisp and strict, and loving. She was sobbing.

"fuckfuckfuckfuck... FUCK!"

She lay down again, the smell was still there, sour and musky, but maybe she was growing accustomed to it, it was no longer choking her. Her skin stuck to itself, felt filmed. Every time she closed her eyes images of non-things in non-places, terrifying in scale - meaningless but frightening - leapt out at her. But finally, sleep won; the nightmare continued to wake her, but the terror was dulled. Like the stench, maybe it hadn't faded, but she had simply become accustomed to it.

The next morning she woke up shaken and exhausted, but thankful for the light of day. Work called again, and Thom, begging her to pick up.

"Leethie! Leethie pick up! Please Leethie. Jesus, I don't know what to do. Why won't you talk to me?!"

She just lay in bed, listening to the voices on the machine, they were just sounds. But then there were calls when no one spoke, and those pauses before the connection was broken Leethie listened, not sure what she was hoping to hear; fearing. Mid-afternoon Thom came and pounded on the door and called to her.

"Leethie! We need to talk, you can't just hide! What the fuck Leethie? You started this! What did you think would happen?!"

After a while, he gave up. More hang ups.

Wednesday morning Thom woke her up calling through the door again.

"Leethie I know you're in there. Leethie you need to open the door."

But he didn't know she was in there, she could hear it in his voice. She was tangled in her bedding, the comforter pulled up over her head. Muffling his voice and shrouding the morning light, but trapping the stink. She wanted to puke.

"Please Leethie... just open up," he called. "Jesus fucking Christ Leethie, I did exactly what you wanted, I played your fucking game TO THE FUCKING END!"

Leethie was shaking. He had screamed loud enough that a dog had started barking. There was a long silence, she wondered for a moment if he had left, if he had snuck away.

"Don't shut me out..." he pleaded. "Please Leethie, everyone in town knows, it's all falling apart."

She wrapped the pillow over her head, right around her ears. Barely able to breathe through the linen and down, she wondered if she could suffocate herself this way, imagining Miranda finding her, imagining her wailing. But then she thought of her standing in the doorway, how still she had been, the cant of her head, as if she were watching a beetle jerking and writhing on its back.

"You started this. I did what you wanted," he whined, his voice searching the silence for answers. "I.. all I wanted... fuck, this is so bad Leethie, so fucked up but I did it, I did what you wanted, everything you wanted..."

She was grinding her teeth, fighting back the nausea. The sound of his voice was making her sick, her mouth was flooding with saliva, she gagged, and spit it onto the mattress, fighting not to cough, fighting not to scream at the top of her lungs, to tell him what a piece of shit he was, what a piece of shit she was.

"...the fucking teasing. I just thought about how you were at school. Your fucking game... Jesus Leethie, don't you get it, I... fucking did this for you," he almost screeched, his voice desperate.

She threw up. There was nothing in her belly, foamy yellow bile burned her throat and sinuses, spraying out of her nose as she fought to choke it back.

"You wanted it rough, so I was rough. You didn't want me to cum... so I came only in her... so I did. I... I KNOW it turned you on... you got off on it... this wasn't just me! Please, Leethie. I didn't want to hurt Miranda... you weren't there... it was so bad." his voice, snotty and pathetic now, choking on his sobs. She was wiping her lips on her sheet, turning away from her own filth, but she couldn't turn away from the stink, from the awful taste and burning in her throat and nose.

Leethie listened to him weeping, imagined the ugly cry, the snot bubbling, blending with tears. She hated him, wanted to run at the door and kick him down the stairs. Her body was shaking as she pictured him flying back off the deck like a sack, crashing down the steps.

"It was our thing... it was fucking twisted, but... I fucking cheated on Miranda for you, with you, because-"

The phone rang. She listened as the machine picked up, the pause before the connection was broken. Thom had been listening too. Had quieted down. She could hear him weeping. When he started talking again she could tell he had sat down, his back against her door.

"Every time I fucked Miranda, I thought of you, imagined your face, I wanted it to be you, I just wanted to be with you."

He had wept at the door. Told her he needed her, but finally, after what felt like hours he had left. After a while, the phone started to ring again. Work wanted to know where she was, her mother telling her "Leethie darling, I heard from Thom, he's worried about you. What's happened, baby? Call me." More hang ups. Then Miranda's voice. "Leethie?" Just that, her sweet girlish voice saying Leethie's name and an open line while she waited. She scrambled to reach the phone,knocking it off the table as she snatched up the receiver, the little table crashing to the floor. The connection lost, the line was dead.

She woke up with a jolt. Sat up weeping, naked, looking across the room at the phone, the little table, all where they should be. There was vomit in her hair.

That night, long after Thom had gone, after the neighborhood had gone quiet and their windows had gone dark, she packed her car. It didn't take long. She fed the fish and left a check for her landlords, called work, and left a message: "I have to leave."

It was their last sweat, and Thom had put a five-gallon bucket full of icy cold well water on the bottom bench for them. After an hour and a half, it was still cold, even in the sweltering heat of the sauna. In the bucket was an old enamelware pot Miranda had used as a ladle. She had been scooping water and tossing it on the stove to steam up the room.

Even after showering and cooling down together on the little bench drinking beers, the atmosphere in the little room was still thick and humid. Miranda had been feeding the stove and if anything their last sweat would be their hottest.

As usual, Miranda entered first. She climbed up on the bottom bench, unwrapped her towel, and arranged it on the top bench, then carefully climbed up and arranged herself. But instead of leaning so her legs were on the arm of the L-shaped shelf that ran along the side of the stove, how she usually sat, she sat with her legs along the front of the stove, facing the corner where Leethie always sat.

Leethie hesitated but then began to mount the bench. She took off her towel and arranged it. Miranda had the chipped enamelware pot next to her and was tossing water at the stove with her fingers.

"TSSSTSSS!"

The drops dancing and skittering across the rough black steel, hissing, and sizzling. Leethie twisted and began to lean back when Miranda stopped her.

"No, come here Leethie."

She was sitting with her knees bent and spread, displaying her pussy. It was smooth and hairless. Her breasts looked firm and swollen, her nipples were dark and rigid. They reminded Leethie of her mother's. She was gesturing to Leethie, who climbed onto the bench and moved towards her on her hands and knees. She was flicking water at the stove, the air was thick with steam.

TSSSTSSS!

Leethie felt awkward and clumsy in front of her. She was so beautiful and graceful; the way she sat, the tilt of her head, she looked regal. Her bare pussy.

"You look like you've never seen a pussy," she said, her voice smokey and low - conspiratorial. Leethie realized she was staring and looked up. In the strange light of the stove's red glow and the thickening steam, she looked unearthly; a foggy halo blur, but beautiful and compelling.

Leethie's lips were wet and parted, they felt swollen, her tongue felt enormous. She was drooling.

TSSSTSSS!

"Sometimes I get so twisted up inside I can't think, do you ever get that way Leethie?" She had her hand on the side of Leethie's head, petting her hair, comforting her. "It's like my belly is full of coals and I just want to jump and scream."

Leethie nodded, but she wasn't sure she understood, she just wanted to please the older girl. She looked at her for clues, for guidance, but her face was obscured by the steam.

TSSSTSSS!

"I feel like that now. I'm so nervous and tangled up," she told Leethie, and then dropping her voice to a whisper she said, "I just need to relax Leethie, but I can't by myself. Will you help me?"

Leethie's mouth was open, and she was breathing so hard she had dried out her tongue, but closing her mouth and wetting it she nodded.

TSSSTSSS!

"I knew I could count on you," she cooed from behind the steam. "come here Leethie, come closer."

Leethie leaned forward through the steam towards her voice.

"I don't want to kiss you, you little dyke," she laughed, making Leethie freeze, her stomach dropping in fear. "No it's ok dear, come here," she told her, pulling her head down until Leethie was on her elbows, ass in the air, looking at her open weeping lips. "Kiss me here Leethie, you'll like it and I need it Leethie. I'm all tangled, it will help me relax. It's the only thing that will settle me down, I swear."

Her hand was tangled in Leethie's hair, mussing all her mother's careful work, but Leethie didn't care. She wanted her, needed her, and Leethie wanted so badly to please her, she would do anything she asked.

TSSSTSSS!

Leethie pressed her lips against her wet labia and felt her jump as if shocked. She pulled back, afraid she had hurt her. But the hand on the back of her head held her tight, pulled her in further, mashing her mouth into the hot opening.

"Don't you dare stop now," she told her, rubbing herself against Leethie's face, smearing her lips and cheek. "That's my good girl, now open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

Leethie obeyed. The taste was sour and strong, the smell musky and overpowering. She rebelled, but she couldn't pull away, she was held there by her hair.

TSSSTSSS!

"Don't stop Leethie, feel it with your tongue, feel how smooth it is."

Leethie forced herself to do as she was told, she used her tongue like a finger, smoothing it over the silky wet flesh. It was like the inside of her cheek, but firmer and smoother.

"Mmmmm, yesss Leethie, that's it. Lick me."

Leethie put her tongue out flat and dragged it upwards. Felt a shock of power as that little lick made her whole body lurched and her breath caught, making her moan. All from a lick. She lowered her head and dragged her tongue up again.

"Oh god. Oh god." Her voice was pinched and constricted. "Oh Jesus Leethie yesss!"

TSSSTSSS!

Leethie felt a great rush of pleasure soaking her, heating her from the inside out. She had never wanted to do anything as much as what she was doing now. Her tongue worked like a dog, lapping at her pussy as fast as she could. Hoping she could draw more cries and spasms of pleasure.

"Look at that smile, you love doing that!"

She was right, Leethie was smiling. As she licked she felt proud, proud of the pleasure she was giving, proud of the power she had, proud that she was pleasing her.

"Suck it," she hissed, pulling at Leethie's hair. "Suck it."

Leethie's lips were dragged upwards and she felt the hard little tip.

"Yessss," she hissed. "Oh yessss. Suck that Leethie."

TSSSTSSS!

Leethie pursed her lips and began to suck.

Now it was the high, unmistakable sound of her building pleasure. Leethie sucked harder, her lips making vulgar blubbery draws. Leethie didn't care.

"I bet you'd eat my ass, wouldn't you?"

The hands in Leethie's hair pushed her downwards. She didn't resist, she let her tongue be guided, past the wet heat it slid, until she felt the hard little knotted ring, dipping and smooth. She looked up through the steam at Miranda's non-colored eyes, her beautiful face flush with ecstasy.

TSSSTSSS!

"Oh, Leethie!" Miranda called in her high and girlish voice. "I'm going to cum Leethie!"

These words spurred her on passing her tongue further down the crevice, she wanted this for them both, to push further, together.

"OH GOD PLEASE LEETHIE I'M CUMMING!"

Leethie awoke in the dark with Miranda's voice ringing in her head. It was only then that it occurred to Leethie how deep and strange Miranda's voice had been until that last moment. That it had been JeanMarie's voice all along.

The room was stiflingly hot, she tried to remember where she was. Her mind, still half asleep, tried to orientate her within the sewing room, but everything was wrong. It stank, she stank.

"TSSSTSSS"

The sound came from the right side of the room at the foot of Leethie's bed. She realized it was mechanical. She forced herself to sit up.

She was in her childhood room. The noise was the AC. She stood groggily, walked to the window, and shut it off. It had been pushing hot air. She stood for a minute looking out the window at the yard in the darkness, at her reflection in the glass. The acrid musky smell of her armpits clawed at her nose, nauseating her. The whole room stank of it. She thought of Bobbie rearing back at the smell, her look of surprise.

"I... you're right," she had told Leethie. "you smell... different."

In a strange way, it had been a relief. The miasma of the stink had clung to Leethie as the last element of the awful nightmare. She had thought that, like the terror, it was all in her head, that she was going crazy. It was only after the long silent drive back to Sea Ranch, that the reality of the change was confirmed by Bobbie.

It had been weeks since she had had the nightmare, it hadn't come back (a possibility that still terrified her), but the stink hadn't gone away. It had lessened in intensity, Bobbie had reassured her before she left to drive home. Leethie hadn't told her parents about the stink, and they hadn't noticed it. She had told them almost nothing, just that something had happened and she and Miranda weren't speaking. Their disappointment and frustration with her had morphed into an impatience.

"All's fair in love and war," her father had told her, but not sounding at all convinced and not quite looking her in the eye.

Leethie pulled at her night shirt. Her pits were stained and she smelled dank. She had decided she knew what the smell was, that it was the stink of fear, the stink of a cornered animal. She considered showering again, but was too tired and opted to just change shirts instead. Grabbing her pillow and sheet, she took them downstairs to the living room where the air was cool and curled up on the couch.