Most people would probably be bowled over by the sweetness of the gesture, but it scared me if truth be told because it suggested a level of commitment I am unable to offer. After the night in the barn, Dale broke up our little threesome, but we remained as tight as ever. Asher and I continued our extramural activities, neither of us willing to let go of the depraved side of ourselves. I guess by now, we are somewhat committed, but as much as I love Asher, I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely comfortable with him etching a permanent reminder of me on his skin. I mean, it will be there forever. Who knows if we have a forever in us?
I pad naked into the living room and take a moment to stare out at the Manhattan skyline from my penthouse window. My bandmates all cautioned me to be frugal with the advance we received from DMW Records when we signed two years ago, but I wanted to live in this moment. We’re an up-and-coming band, and you never know when life is going to turn on the head of a pin, and everything is going to change. If I’m going to lose everything, it’s going to be on my terms. In the meantime, I’m going to damn well enjoy what I have, while I can.
Which probably isn’t going to be for much longer.
Swallowing past the fear roiling in my belly, I make my way over to the bookcase and retrieve my tattered copy of “Rain” by India R. Adams. For a brief moment, I smile when I think about how much I enjoyed the book, but a frown quickly replaces that smile as I realize no handsome elves are going to swoop in and rescue me from my demons. I flip the book open, and as always, when I see the photos nestled between the pages, my stomach twists.
One more photo was added tonight. The reason I can’t sleep.
I had no idea when Bianca sent me the first pic, things would get as bad as they had. Bianca was one of Samuel’s wives at the farm and was like a mother to me after my own died. Being in charge of all Samuel’s wives, and grooming me to become one of them, meant we spent a lot of time together. Of everyone at the farm, I was closest to her, so when her first letter came in the mail, telling me about how disappointed she was in me for being the drummer for Raining Phoenix—how my walk with evil was the reason Samuel killed himself in prison—I was devastated.
She’d even gone so far as to enclose a collage of where Samuel lived in prison compared to my penthouse apartment—pics she’d got from a magazine where I’d showcased my home. The words GREED were pasted over the pics and made me a little sick. But I worked hard to push the guilt away because I needed this. I needed my life now to be as far from my life on the farm as it could be. What happened to me at the farm was no doubt six shades of fucked up, but it was all I’d known for fifteen years of my life. And in some ways, I’d felt more at home there, with Bianca and the other wives, than I’d ever felt anywhere else. So hearing about Bianca’s disappointment in me was hard to swallow.
Unbidden, my mind conjures my first night with Samuel.
My head is a little fuzzy from the wine Samuel gave me at our wedding dinner. I don’t like the swimming feeling at all, but I hadn’t wanted to disappoint him either, so I drank it. I was so proud to be sitting to the left of him with everybody beaming at us, and tonight was the night I’d get to go to his bed-chamber.
Right now, I’m in a smaller room off Samuel’s quarters staring at rows and rows of pretty dresses hanging in a brilliant rainbow display. Excitement trumps nerves at being able to wear anything other than the lemon-yellow uniforms we usually wear. The fan in the corner oscillates, and goosebumps prickle my naked flesh as I deliberate which color to wear for my wedding night.
“C’mon, dear, Samuel is waiting for you.” Bianca smiles proudly down at me, her hair tucked into the white cap she wears to cover her beautiful red tresses. I wish she’d always wear her hair loose, but those aren’t the rules, and even having that thought is selfish and frowned upon. My dark hair brushes my back in thick waves, and I want desperately to run my fingers through it, but that’s another no-no.
Instead, I run my fingers through the dresses, feeling my panic at not knowing which to choose. When my fingers brush over a red dress, I stop. I’ve never felt anything so soft before.
“What is this material?”
“That’s satin, my dear. Would you like to try it on?”
I nod, and Bianca takes it from the rack and slips it over my head. It feels like a cool caress, and I can’t resist running my hands over the fabric.
Bianca leans in. “You have ten seconds and then I have to stop you. You know the rules.”
Yes, I do—no pleasure unless the community gets to share in it with you. Not even masturbation is allowed without our sisters in the room to participate or watch. I run my hands along my hips. Branding the feel of the satin against my palms into my memory for later when I’m alone and no one can tell me what to think.
“That’s enough,” Bianca states firmly. “Let’s get this sized.”
She makes the necessary alterations to the dress while I revel in feeling beautiful. When Bianca is done, she takes my hand and meets my gaze in the mirror. Our icy-blue eyes are so similar
