(“I need to be redeemed to the one I’ve sinned against

Because he’s all I ever knew of love…” --Fiona Apple)



I’ve been a bad, bad girl.


I let you in when I knew the consequences, knew how quickly I would deteriorate into a submissive waif who wanted nothing more than to curl up in your arms and accept your heated kisses. 


I’m no good for you, baby.  We both know that.


They said you’re delicate.  They said that your heart is a fluttering dove, fragile and flighty and all too easy to break.  But you were the strong one.  With a flick of your wrist you knew I’d come running, desperate to feel your touch, to taste your mouth. 

You’ve broken me.


You looked so innocent, all sprawled out on the bed with your hair sleep-mussed and wild, and your lanky body stretched in a slender line across barely-cooled silk sheets.  So innocent.  So helpless.


I don’t deserve you.


I watched you as you slept, chest rising and falling smoothly, pouting lips glistening from a pale pink tongue that swiped across them lazily.  If I got close enough I could feel your heat seeping through the mattress, soaking into my body like the sun’s rays.  I needed you just as badly.


They told me it’s my fault that you’re like this; haunted and hollow and afraid to trust.  They accused me of toying with your heart and messing with your mind until I was all you thought about, but I’m innocent, sweetie.  It was you that haunted my mind.  It was you who held all the cards.


I never knew much of love, not really.  It was a mere word, a simple sentiment tied to pretty Valentine’s cards and summer romance novels, not something to be protected and cherished and sought after.


You made it your business to re-educate me.


I fought you.  God…did I fight you.  I didn’t like it when you demanded to know where I was and what I was doing at all times.  I never felt you slip the invisible leash around my neck until I was too far gone to want to resist.


“Why are you doing this?” I sobbed one evening as you walked out the door, dressed in your finest, one thing on your mind.


“Because you need to learn,” You answered, and I collapsed to my knees, crawling to the door like a lovelorn puppy, as a smug look of satisfaction filled your eyes a second before you left me alone.


When you came back that night, late, with some phantom woman’s fragrance clinging to your skin, I had repented.  I welcomed you home with open arms, pleasing you the best way I knew how, gently removing your clothes and touching you the way I knew you liked.  Arousing you.  Seducing you.


You let me wash you under the shower’s hot spray, allowed my hands to trace across your shoulders before you gently pushed me to my knees, a defiant look in your eyes.


I didn’t protest.  I took you in my mouth and sucked you gently, trying to draw you into me, wanting intimacy I wasn’t sure I could find, desperate to crack the stone wall you insisted on erecting.


I got through to your body; that much is sure.  I knew by the way you threw your head back and moaned, deep and low and primal, the grip of your fingers on my hair tightening, your hips grinding sensuously into my face.


“Yeah…just like that…mmmmm…” You panted, and through the muddled emotional cocktail of shame and obedience I felt a thin shard of pleasure spike.


Your slender hips bucked once, twice, and a soft, warm, thick liquid filled my mouth just as a shuddering sigh escaped your lips.  Gently, reverently, you petted my hair, and whispered, “good girl.  Good girl.”

But I’m not a good girl.  A good girl would have let you go.  A good girl would have done everything in her power to make sure your heart was safe and protected, instead of holding onto it with trembling, curled fingers.


I’m not quite sure when the shift of power occurred, or what happened that made you so eager to please me, all of a sudden.  Maybe it was when I finally gave up on hoping you would one day belong to me.  I shared you with so many…with your group mates, with your other lovers, with an adoring public so sure that you were the very essence of purity.


They had no idea how dirty you were…how nasty…how rough…how deliciously sexual you could be.  They liked to pretend they knew you, but when I looked into your eyes while they were filled with lust, or I saw the passion on your face just after you climaxed, thrashing and moaning and grunting my name, I knew they hadn’t the slightest idea.


I gave up so much for you…risked everything just to be here…swallowed my pride and my principles and sliced open my heart when it was my soul you wanted…and yet it still wasn’t enough.


That was why I left, baby.  Not because, as you said, I couldn’t handle the heat.  Not because, as you so angrily accused, I had found someone else.  It was because I had nothing left to give.  Nothing left to lose.  And certainly nothing to gain.


And so I boarded the plane as you watched in anger, boiling tears of frustration shimmering behind sky-blue eyes, and walked out of your life…for a short while.


I became a criminal…in the eyes of your family…in the hearts of your friends…cast out of Eden, with no hopes of return.


The trial, and it has been a trial, was short and swift.  A guilty verdict.  I stole your heart and broke it to pieces, a sloppy smash-and-grab job that led you right to my door.


“Please…” You begged, and your voice was weary.  “Let’s talk this out…”


But I had already testified.  I had thrown myself on the mercy of the court, begged and groveled and pleaded to the jury, to Justin and Chris and Joey and Lance, but both love and justice are blind, and my sentence was both swift and brutal: exile.


I spent days in a self-imposed house arrest, wandering around in your old clothes, refusing to look in the mirror lest my mind play tricks and show you staring back at me, welcoming arms held wide open.  I kept my nose buried in your shirt collar, a convicted addict desperate for another fix, but without the means to procure it.  A junkie.


My diet was little more than bread and water, coffee in the morning and some ice cream at night, my body shivering as I recalled playful evenings spent in bed with a carton of Haagen-Daaz and a shiny silver spoon.


My appetite quickly waned.


I did my time stoically, refusing to see visitors, inflicting my own punishment with a slideshow of memories, until at last I was forced to rejoin society.  Reformed.  Rehabilitated.  Renewed.


Or so I told myself.


I didn’t count on you toying with temptation again.  I didn’t expect your particular form of entrapment, entreaties of love falling from sinful lips as you whispered softly in my ear.

”Just tonight…just tonight…”


People like me, it’s been said in the movies, don’t change.  You can’t retrain a criminal.  You can’t fix a crook.  I found myself in your arms again, deliciously naughty as we moved in the sensual ways of lust.


And there you lay sleeping, five hours later, your naked body curled against smooth sheets, as I contemplated my crime.


Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, Angel?...

I heard your voice faintly and I turned to find you staring, a hungry look in cerulean eyes.


I swallowed hard, steadying my nerves.  Forgive me, father…


“Come back to bed…” You whispered, your voice husky, roughened by sleep, your lips curving in a tempting grin.  There was more than mere invitation in your voice, and again I found myself wondering how long I would lock my heart away after this…after you.


I fell into your arms and you were on me like a hurricane, touching everywhere at once, lips and tongue working at the satiny skin of my breasts, fingers delving past the wet heat between my legs, into my body.


I was lost to you.  I was lost in you.  I closed my eyes and surrendered to the dance.


Hours later, with the sun beginning to peek over the purple-blue horizon, I heard your footsteps against my floor.  It pained me to open my eyes, for I knew what scene would greet me.  My intuition did not fail me as I saw you picking up your clothes, fastening your shoes, hastily gathering your belongings as you raced my body’s clock…but it was too late.   This time I had caught you in the act.


“Leaving so soon?...” I whispered softly, and you froze, one shoe awkwardly balanced on your foot, fingers stilling as you heaved a sigh.


“I just…I have to go…”


I said nothing, rolling away, fighting tears as you lay down beside me, gathering me in your arms.  I could feel the heat of your lips caressing the back of my neck, your hands winding across my belly to snake up and gently play with the soft peaks of my breasts, fingers teasing, touching, circling nipples that tightened from anticipation.  An appreciative moan escaped your lips as you pressed your body more fully to mine.  I fought the sensation, determined not to give in.  Determined to do the right thing.


“I’ll be back…” You whispered.  “Things are…y’know…just…complicated right now.”


Of course.  Complicated.  What more could I expect from a man whose personality defies definition?


“Don’t be mad, baby…” You murmured.  “You know I want to stay…”


“Then stay,” I said petulantly, drawing my knees to my chest, trapping your hand.




Those last words you murmured against my skin as you reluctantly disentangled yourself from my body.  I fought the urge not to turn around and was almost proud of myself that I managed to do it, until you said the words that knocked me off my feet and rendered me helpless every blessed time:


“I love you.”


Let the punishment fit the crime.



© 2002 ~A.