Cry Like A Girl

Chapter 12

Disembodiment had always been a phenomenon used by the movie industry, but Henry was beginning to believe in its existence. Could his mind hang back in the darkened foyer weighing the pros and cons of Camille's fantasy while his body followed the soft glow of light coming from the bedroom at the end of the hall? He wouldn't describe the feeling of total disconnect as being surreal, but by no means ordinary. The closest he had ever come to that feeling was when he was given sodium pentothal for a tooth extraction as a teenager. In the few seconds before he drifted off and the few before his conscious awoke, he belonged to another dimension, a delusional land where he was unable to distinguish reality from the drug-induced visions. Tonight, he was again visiting that other world, only this time there would be no long escape between fading in and out of that dimension.

He took a step into the bedroom, careful to keep his body hidden behind the door, just as Camille had instructed. She wanted to sense him without seeing him. She said somehow, even knowing it was him, his hidden presence, a building trepidation, and the darkness would all add a sense of foreboding.

It took several seconds for his eyes to begin to adjust. He'd only been in this room once before. A quick tryst during one of Evan's many trips that left Henry feeling more nervous than satisfied. From that point on, they kept their visits to a low budget and isolated motel forty miles into the next county. Aside from the darkness, everything looked the same.

He was a lights-on kind of guy; half the arousal came from the visual stimulation. Universally, men would agree on this. Sex in the dark was akin to feeling your first boob through a bra and sweater. Although still a thrill of sorts, the end result resembled failure. This was going to be hard enough, and the fact he barely see her only added to the difficulty.

Movement on the bed brought him back to the moment. The light streaming through the cracked bathroom door was enough to navigate his way around the room with caution.

He made a last run-through of Camille's explicit list. So far, he had followed as best as he could remember. He stood at the foot of the bed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the handkerchief he had brought along. Twisting it between his fingers, he watch her feign sleep. For a brief moment, he wondered what was going through her mind as she anticipated the attack. Attack. Her word. He didn't pretend to understand her desire for something with such a negative connotation, but he had allowed himself to be talked into it and there was no turning back without creating another set of repercussions.

The unzipping of his pants was barely audible, but still caused his heightened nerves to twitch. His pants fell past his knees, but not quite to his ankles. Perfect. He balled up the handkerchief in his hand and inched his way alongside the bed.

His legs were weak; his armpits and groin were as sticky as if he had already had sex. Camille lay on her side, faced away from him, her hair cascading across the pillow and over the edge of the bed. He reached out to grab her by the neck, but froze. Last chance. Either shut your mind off as you do the deed or zip your pants as you run for the door.

Go big or go home. He wasn't sure why that expression popped into his head at that exact moment. It didn't seem fitting as he stood alongside her with his dick scared soft. He had anticipated that concern even in his flustered state-of-mind, but she assured him that the moment he fell into character would take care of the problem. In the past twenty-four hours, he'd lost track of the number of times he hoped she was right.

No more stalling.

He tightened his grip on the handkerchief and grabbed her by the throat with his free hand. She bucked as she turned toward him. He shoved the cloth deeply into her mouth. She thrashed underneath him. Throwing one leg over the top of hers, he pinned her to the bed. She tried to push him off. He snared one of her wrists with his free hand while pinning the other with the forearm after releasing her throat.

Adrenaline coursed through his body. He was stronger, more agile than he had ever felt in his life. Camille twisted and turned, her efforts unable to throw him. His mind almost a total blank, he said the only line of scripted dialogue he still remembered. "Stop fighting me, you know you want this."