Through the Earphones

Special thanks to all my fellow writers and editors, you know who you are, who took time out of their busy lives to read my latest work. Your constructive criticism and encouragement make me a better writer.

I can't thank you all enough.

*****

The clock on the wall strikes nine as I gratefully turn off the TV and load the dinner plates into the dishwasher. It is not normally bedtime for me this early on a Friday night, but the stress of the day has taken its toll on me. I can't even bring myself to stay up just a little later when I can simply sleep all day tomorrow and deal with all the chores another time. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room and sigh with disappointment. I wasn't expecting to see the face of a model or a perfectly toned body but my matted hair and makeup-free face do nothing to make me feel better. It is funny how during those moments of solitude your mind desperately searches for at least SOMETHING to grasp onto that isn't completely hopeless.

I push away the pang of guilt at not taking up my friend Amy's offer of dinner and a drink. I know, in theory, it would have made me feel better but I know myself well enough to know that I would not have been great company for her and so it was put off for an undetermined date.

I only wish I could tell her about how crappy things have become in my job lately. I hear the loud yelling of my boss as I struggled through the day. The constant nagging worry about barely hanging onto a job about which I am all out of shits to give, but necessary in order to keep certain luxuries like paid rent, groceries, working heater, etc.

"Angela! You forgot to send the report to me again! You were supposed to send it to me at the end of the day yesterday!" I bristle with anger at the sound of Mr. Adams' voice bellowing from his office.

I had no clue as to what the reports were for as he had never once asked me to send reports his way and yet had chosen me as an easy target for his incompetence.

I had long since given up arguing with him as almost everything wrong with the office could be conveniently put on the new girl.

"I am sorry, Sir. I thought that I left them on your desk but obviously I must have forgotten."

A blatant lie given, if it were my job to do so, I would have put those reports on his desk with the important tasks to be done written on an attached post-it note then emailed copies.

Even he could not have missed that.

"You should be sorry. You have one thing to remember and you can't even remember to do that? You're lucky I don't fire you right here!"

Yet, that anger only comes from his mouth, not his eyes. I grit my teeth at this show of mock anger and put on my best contrite mask as I busy myself with the task.

I didn't want to cause trouble for myself as I had only planned to be there for about six months whilst I applied for literally anything that would help put me on some kind of direction for my career. Those six months then became almost two years.

They were less than ideal circumstances but a damn sight better than giving into my one form of comfort; my addiction. Something that always worked in the past no matter how bad things got, but I shut the door on that thought immediately.

If I had gone to dinner with Amy, I would have gone home, put on some nice clothes and makeup and headed out hopeful for things to be different. We would have enjoyed a lovely dinner and a couple of cocktails, talking about simpler, happier times. We would be behaving more like the carefree fifteen-year-old kids we once were rather than the twenty-eight-year old women we had become.

"Hey Angela, I love your dress. It really suits your figure." I would catch the hint of curiosity in Amy's voice as to why it was a size smaller than a couple of months back underneath her attempt to be kind.

"Oh, thank you, I've been working out."

I would really try to see this for the genuine compliment it was than what my mind had twisted it to become. That I was not doing well to hide the strain from kicking my addiction and everyone could see me for the fraud I was. My confidence would have been diminished, like the air out of a burst tire and I would be trying not to cry floods of tears. It wouldn't have been Amy's fault for pointing out the obvious but her fear of saying the wrong thing led her to choose her words more carefully than with our other friends in recent meetings. Something that only made my suffering worse. Maybe your friends only want to see you as a whole being instead of broken inside.

She would then ask me: "What have you been up to recently?"

Roughly translated: Why had I rescheduled on her so many times? She would see her best friend was not herself, that I was not the Angela she once knew. I would see her putting the pieces together in her head through her slightly widened eyes although she would try to hide it.

I had spent months trying to avoid people who wouldn't take my false happy moods at face value, therefore my friendships had become neglected as of late. I remember the times where we did hang out of smiling through painfully long parties, long walks along the beach and waiting until sad moments in the movie theatre to let loose the tears that had been building up long before the trailers. All the while wishing that I could be a million miles away from everyone, especially myself.

Nothing I ever did could make me forget about what I needed.

I remember an unfulfilling night with a casual Tinder date, who did not know his arse from his elbow and yet still got fake moans and squirming out of me.

I think back to our walk along the riverside in his attempt to be romantic. He was dragging his feet along the pavement whilst I talked about my dreams of becoming a lawyer. Another one of my lies. How I wanted to work as a secretary so as to be more sympathetic to those who suffered under the rule of demanding lawyers before heading to law school.

"Where do you want to go next?" Ben said with obvious hope in his voice at the possibility of me saying 'Back home' or 'Wherever you would like' with a flutter of my eyelashes. We were walking along the bridge as we chatted and I tried to tell myself that it would take more than just a lunch date to get into my pants, but he must have sensed my unease.

"You have beautiful eyes," he said. "I bet a man who is lucky enough to spend time with you would be overjoyed to hear what you have to say." He had said various versions of these as our dates progressed from a pub lunch to a full-on dinner date with his well-cut, expensive suit and my best tailored dress revealing my tiny waist and womanly hips.

All beautiful words that I wanted so desperately to believe but my manslator once again kicked in as; I would love to gaze into them whilst you suck me off, and I bet you are a good fuck. I shook my head at the thought all the while knowing that this was inevitable. I just knew that despite his best efforts, he could never really satisfy me.

If I had only one wish, it would be to not allow my fear for the future to be what causes me pain in this moment. The tears begin to well up as I stare at my reflection in the mirror and busy myself with nightly preparations, refusing to allow the depression to take over me once again. I have cried and suffered long enough. Even after my earlier bubble bath and scarfing down comfort food, I feel no better than I did when I came home from work. I remember slamming the door, throwing my bag down on the floor and kicking off my heels, trying to resist the urge to hurl them out of the window. I then slumped against the wall and slid down slowly as the sobbing began to overwhelm me. I sigh at the thought and my shoulders slump in defeat.

My silk bathrobe slides off my shoulders and I hang it on the door before I climb into the softness of my bed. I settle my body into the comfortable groove of the mattress and stare into the darkness as my nightdress moves against my hips and clings to my breasts and waist. I close my eyes, feeling the rising heat under my skin. I shudder and relax into the calming sensation, knowing that eventually this will help me sink into a deep sleep.

Turning on my side, I pull the covers up to my chin, ready for some much- needed rest.

I tune out the rumbling of cars and horns from the noisy city outside and the foul smell of petrol, and instead, I imagine the distant, soothing sounds of waves and buoys in the harbour and the heady scent of exotic flowers. Reaching over to the bedside light, I switch it off. The soft glow of my clock, now without its pre-programmed alarm, sends a soft, muted glow through the corner of the bedroom and I sigh in contentment. Then I open the audiobook app on my Ipad and programme my night time listening.

The familiar words of my audiobook wash over me and I relax deeper into the softness of my pillow. The soft cadence of the narrator's voice seems to keep more of my attention than the actual story but there are several words that stand out to me so clearly that I can almost see them in my mind. The words Deep, Sleep, Listen and Voice. My body goes limp and a tingle runs up and down my body. The stress of the day and the physical aches disappearing each time those words are said. My eyes flutter closed and it feels like I am floating upwards towards the ceiling.

I imagine myself alone on a beach with white sand around me and the cool water of the sea occasionally touching my feet as the waves move onto and away from the shore gently. I can hear the gentle breeze and the trickle of water from the rock pools, and I feel the warm heat as I doze in the mid-afternoon sun. There are no other noises anywhere and I feel completely at peace. I find that I am also naked in the soft sand and not caring if anyone sees my extra body fat or my stretch marks. Only my long neck, the deep brown hair fanned out around my head, my tiny waist and rounded hips. My skin is tanned and shiny with sweat and I find myself quite unashamed of my nakedness.

My body is so bathed in sunshine and warmth that I only just notice the cold from a shadow falling over my sleeping form. I am too tired to open my eyes but instead relax into his touch as he strokes the side of my face, my jawline and neck. My face brushes against his hands as he caresses me like a little kitten and every moment that passes makes me want to purr.

I feel his hands travel from my neck to my clavicle bone and his hands grab the whole of my breasts, pinching the nipples to painful points and then circling around the undersides. I arch into his touch and his hands wander down my stomach, towards my thighs and rubs at my crotch area. My legs fall apart shamelessly and his fingers move in between the wet folds, lightly circling my clit and then pushing into me nice and slowly, pressing on the most sensitive place inside me.

As I open my eyes, my sight adjusts to a pair of hypnotic eyes and I move my hips to meet his thrusts. They never leave me as he presses on the sensitive nerves and I can't seem to hold my moans back. He leans down and kisses me, swallowing my moans and our tongues dance slowly and sensually. His lips are soft and demanding to the touch and he holds both sides of my face. He suddenly breaks away from the kiss, moving closer to my ear and saying in a deep, soft voice; "You're mine, Angela. Don't you forget it."

I shake off the mental image and am momentarily frightened at the direction of my thoughts. My whole body begins to shake and I breathe deeply, trying to keep my mind away from old destructive habits that were all too easy to fall back into. I once again turn to my happy place and focus only on beautiful sounds, sights and warmth against my skin.

The picture in my mind is so clear, it becomes harder and harder to distinguish between that and my dark bedroom. A feeling so intoxicating that I find my hands wandering over my body as I count from 10 in my mind. The sound only just makes it to my lips but it is very clear in my mind.

10... my shoulders relax and my muscles are warm and languid.

9... my head lolls to one side and my jaw slackens.

8... my chest softly moves up and down to accommodate my breathing.

7... the muscles in my neck become loose.

6... the sounds of anything in the room and outside it ceases to exist.

5... the feeling in my legs becomes less and less as I focus on my breathing.

4... my thoughts settle themselves into an occasional flow, like the waves of the sea. The rhythm is focused only on the movement of my chest and the inhalation and exhalation of air.

3... I forget all my troubles.

2... I am about to fall into a deep sleep.

1... I am now ready to just sleep and allow my mind to drift into another place.

"Hello, Angela."

I suddenly sit up in bed slightly dazed and very annoyed at whatever that noise was. I listen but I find no source. I frown and my mouth twists in confusion but I am more interested in getting back to sleep. It must have been my imagination. I am about to fall back into the softness of my pillow when I hear it again...

"Hello Angela, I know you can hear me. There's no need to be alarmed."

I am amazed by how soft and yet menacing it is that I wonder just how long the voice might have been there, calling my name and stirring me from my slumber. One moment I was drifting off, the next it emerges from the blanket of white noise and latches onto my consciousness in the most unwelcome way.

The voice is profound, masculine and deeply smug despite the perfectly ordinary greeting. I marvel at how the voice alone brings up long-repressed memories that come out only in my deepest dreams. Him cupping my breast under my top, his tongue swirling with mine and one of his hands keeping both my wrists pinned to the wall above my head. He pushes up my skirt and glides his hand up my thigh towards my... I stop myself before I go any further, not wanting to remember right now.

"Who's there?" I say unconvincingly.

I feel my heart begin to race and my hands become damp with nerves. I have never felt my stomach drop so far and so fast that I momentarily feel like I am going to throw up. Yet, I breathe slowly and bring back some level of composure.

"You can't forget my voice, surely?" says the voice. The Voice that makes me wet and yet makes me want to run away screaming. I freeze as the familiar helplessness creeps through my body. He is constantly at the back of my mind, the solution to a bad day and yet the reason as to why I had a bad day in the first place. I remember the times when I woke up miserable after arguing with him the night before or me being frustrated at how mysterious he was allowed to be whilst there were no secrets for me. I remember how wanting to know him overrode my self-respect and I traded such secrets like my naked body in pictures whilst I could only guess as to what he looked like. The shame I feel at how easy it was to do this despite hating myself later for it is so great, it's like I am living it all over again. Shame I had long ago chosen to forget. Yet, he is still my addiction. My craving.

"What do you want?" I say through the lump in my throat.

"You know the answer to that ... my Angela."

"I'm not YOUR Angela!" I say reflexively and I cover my mouth to avoid getting too loud. I take a deep breath and say quietly but no less determinedly; "I am not yours to control."

The voice faintly chuckles and I hear shuffling and moving around as he clears his voice to speak.

"I never left you Angela, I am always here in your thoughts, even when you're angry with me. You know as well as I do that I speak the truth..."

I laugh at the absurdity but I can't help but listen to every word he says. He is as much a phantom to me now as ever and yet here he is, speaking to me through the earphones and deeper into my mind. The desire to tear my hair out in frustration at his elusiveness is coupled with the desire to simply stop thinking altogether. I feel the pleasurable tingles go up and down my body at the thought and there is a delicious tightening of my chest and a wetness between my thighs.

"I can so easily take the earphones out you know!" I say with what I hope is some semblance of authority.

"I know you could... but you won't."

I pause searching for something to say. Searching for some self- assurance, or better yet, an explanation as to why he always leaves me at a disadvantage. Yet, quick as a wink, he presses the advantage and I slump back against the pillow as my body goes limp and the power to move leaves me.

"That's it, Angela. Sleep deeply for me now."

All I hear is the roaring of blood in my ears and the throbbing of my pulse as his voice begins to dominate my attention. Like it always did.

I feel myself begin to become aroused. My breasts are heavy and I want to use my fingers to relieve the ache but my hands feel like they are made of lead. I notice my lips begin to part at the sublime pleasure and my stomach and thigh muscles clench and release as it becomes too intense. A Pavlovian response to his words.

It all began with a mysterious email in my inbox nearly four years ago. Probably because of my comments on different erotic websites that involved hypnotising me until orgasmed, or at least allowed me to fall asleep without hating myself for feeling unfulfilled. Our daily talks would always end with him hypnotising me until I was helpless to resist. My desire to know him, to please him, overrode my sense of self-preservation. Yet, it was never enough to satisfy. Within minutes, all I would hear were those words and I would disappear once more into oblivion, knowing even less about him than before. I suppress a sob at the memories.

His presence was like that of a breath on a mirror. One moment so close that I could almost touch him and the next he vanished into thin air. His domination of my thoughts felt like a hacker delving into the dark corners of a computer, seeking out all my secret thoughts and untamed desires and channelling them according to his whims. Disabling the defences that I so painstakingly put in place and shifting my focus towards the soft lull of his voice that felt like I was about to fall off the edge of a precipice every time I heard it. Then he would disappear just as quickly and I would be left aching for more.

Just where he was I didn't know and it was one of the many things he wouldn't tell me or trust me with. I grit my teeth and breathe deeply as I feel my blood pressure rising to dangerous levels. My anger burning just as hot as the arousal flowing through my system. Yet, my breasts begin to swell and my nipples tighten as I imagine him on top of me. His hands running down my neck, to my clavicle and circling the underside of my breasts and nipples. His hands grip my hips, leaving indentations from his fingernails and gripping my thighs before spreading them open wide. As he kisses his way down my body, from my chest, down my stomach, towards my hips and spread thighs, I hear the words; "Sleep now, Angela. My Mindless Fucktoy."

It's not until the scorching hot desire at these words passes that I realise that I hear his words through the earphones. For all the wonderful joy and comfort his words brought, they were always accompanied by the sharp edge of pain. Pain I had so long protected myself from feeling ever again. Delving into his mind, his motivations, felt like trying to hold water that was slowly slipping through my fingers.

The rush of heat and pleasure moves through my body. Possessing me completely and wiping my mind of any thoughts of resistance.

I breathe slowly and deeply through the surges, begging myself not to fall prey to them but I know it is of no use. It is something that will always be beyond my control.