The tough, protective shell I wore daily to face the world lay cracked and shattered outside my door.
Inside, in solitude, I was just Carla Marie Jameson, the insecure farm girl from Nebraska, doing her best to navigate and endure the harsh and unjust world.
Carla Jameson, the girl sitting on the floor in the dark, back against the door to keep the world at bay.
Carla Jameson, the girl who often cried herself to sleep because the emotional armor she wore to confront the world's demons was so burdensome that it squeezed her emotions out like a juice press.
Carla Jameson, seemingly as hard as stone on the outside but as soft as marshmallow on the inside.
Resting my forearms on my knees, I let my head sink onto my arms.
I sat there, shedding tears until none were left.
Carla
It was remarkable what a good cry could do for the soul – something men would never comprehend. Despite the world's weight pressing down like a Mac truck, sitting on the floor and sobbing like a baby for an hour made everything seem right.
Or at least as right as it could be in that moment.
Add a microwave pizza, a pint of mint chocolate chip Haagen-Dazs, and half a bottle of chardonnay, and suddenly, the world turned into a beautiful place.
At least within the confines of my apartment.
Somewhat tipsy, I drew a hot bath, preparing to soak for an hour or two. As the tub filled with steaming water, I lit several candles and turned off the lights. The scent of cinnamon and wildflowers permeated the air.
I closed and locked the bathroom door. Call me peculiar, but I couldn't bathe or shower with the door open, having seen too many movies featuring vulnerable girls showering while murderers lurked nearby.
I know, I'm a psychiatrist's delight. Oh well.
Setting my iPhone on the counter, I instructed Siri to play some Van Morrison to set the mood. Shedding the sweats I'd changed into after my crying episode, I stood naked in front of the mirror to tie up my hair.
As I bundled my long hair into a bun and secured it atop my head, I assessed the woman in the mirror – a ritual I performed at the end of each day.
Had the day added a new line or wrinkle?
Were my boobs sagging?
Did I have stretch marks on my stomach?
Again, a psychiatrist would have a field day with me.
Tall for a girl at five-eight, with a curvy physique for my height, I inherited my mom's generous bosom and rounded hips. My breasts hung prominently like two melons that had never been squeezed. Dark-hued areolas contrasted against the milky whiteness of my breasts. I kept my blond pubes neatly trimmed.
Taking a deep breath, my hands moved from my hair to cup my breasts. A finger brushed over my nipples, prompting an immediate response as they hardened at my touch.
I closed my eyes. Suddenly, in my imagination, Alex Herron stood behind me, hands resting gently on my hips. His abrupt presence initially startled me, but my mind urged me to relax and let the fantasy unfold.
I could feel Alex's fingers delicately digging into my hips, his thumbs massaging the dimples above my ass.
Rolling my head to the side, I moaned as he pressed his lips to my shoulder. Nibbling his way up my neck to my ear, he took my earlobe between his teeth, biting down just enough to deliver a pleasurable pain.
His hot breath tingled in my ear.
His tongue followed, licking the rim of my ear and darting inside. A shudder ran through me as I sensed the warmth pooling between my legs.
Alex's hands circled to cup my breasts, fingers squeezing my nipples. He moaned into my ear.
I felt the press of his cock against my back – long, hard, moist from his arousal. Sliding it up and down, I could sense his balls brushing against my ass.
Bracing my hands on the sink, I wiggled my ass, and he slid his cock through the cleft in my buttocks. His hands descended from my breasts to converge at my clit, rolling it between his thumbs. The building orgasm felt like a spark ready to ignite a raging fire deep within my body.
Alex continued sliding his cock against me as his hands worked my pussy. Wetting his fingers, he teased my opening.
"Fuck me, Alex," I heard myself moan. "Take me.. Make it yours forever."
I pushed my ass toward him, leaning the top half of my body forward, offering my pussy to him. I felt his hands on my hips once more as he positioned himself behind me, the head of his cock pressing into my opening. Holding my breath in anticipation, he slid in just the head, pausing for a moment as I felt my pussy yielding to accommodate him.