What I feel for him is irrelevant if I can’t cope when he goes down on me.Perhaps I’ll never be whole again.Never be touched again.I clear my throat and take a deep breath.
“This relationship stuff is exhausting. It was so much easier when I was swearing off men.”
“Yeah, but it’s so much more fun,” she adds, and we both laugh. “Coming from the person who swore she would always be a crazy cat lady.”
We chat for a few more minutes, and even though I want to tell her why I called in the first place, I don’t. Yes, I disappointed Zoey, and now I’m also hiding things from Lily, but there isn’t really anything I can do in this moment.
So I get ready for bed, and am unsurprised when I toss and turn, unable to find sleep. I’m struggling with hopefulness with Benedict and guilt with Zoey. I shoot her a quick text making sure she got to her god mom’s house and she keeps me on ‘read’, but at least I know she’s safe.
It seems like forever ago that I was sitting on the couch, staring outside at the bright sunshine, debating about whether or not to text Benedict. I remember the feel of his breath on my neck. I can still hear the way his words sounded in my ear—low and gravely.
As I drift off to sleep, I find myself touching the area under my panty line, wondering what Benedict felt earlier against his mouth, wondering if he’s thinking of me—wondering if I am living up to the version of me that he has somewhere up on a pedestal.
I might’ve enjoyed being alone for all of these years but having Benedict on his knees before me was something I didn’t expect to love as much as I did. Maybe things didn’t have to be so black and white. Maybe I could enjoy independence and succumbing to his tongue at the same time. Maybe I could love seeing him on his knees, in a place of power above him, and still enjoy being commanded by him. My whole life, I’d been a walking contradiction. Maybe that’s just a part of my soul now, a side effect of those years turning men away, while also still a normal, breathing human who craves the touch of another.
What surprises me the most is how well Benedict seems to understand that about me.
How in tune he is with every aspect of me.
Perhaps the magic in all of this is that I’ve found someone who understands exactly what I need in this world after everything I’ve been through.
Compassion.Respect. Love.
Feathers on Skin
Benedict Martin
Oxford,Present
I went weeks, months—years—without her in my life. The last time I saw her all those years ago, she’d looked at me with wide eyes, surprised by what she felt, what had been flowing through my veins all this time. I knew it would happen eventually. The fire I felt between us wasn’t one-sided. It wasn’t unreciprocated—it never was, despite what had happened to her. I could sense her beginning to feel it, the edges of it, like feathers on skin. It happened slowly—a glance, a touch, and then, an embrace. Her soul was searching for something to cling to. Something to mask the pain, to take the last few years of her life away, and I was the closest person to her.
Which is why I decided to walk away.
She—we—deserved better.
She needed more time, and I needed to shut it down before we both fell into a pit of grief, despair, and pain. We were so close to falling into that cavern together, for entirely different reasons, and I knew she needed more time to heal. She needed time to forget the man who abused her. And I needed time to forget the man who raised me. Who beat me. Who caused my mother and I to flee in the middle of the night when I was eleven.
My mother was the strongest person I knew—except when it came to my father. He was her one true weakness. And it wasn’t until that night—the night of hushed whispers, of flashlights and dark cars—that she allowed herself to detach from our life with him. She never pressed charges, and he never pursued full custody. When my mother died, he was at the funeral. A courtesy I extended to him, despite the memories that clawed their way to the forefront of my mind in the middle of the night.
I was horrified when Lily told me about Evelyn, and yet not… surprised. About the house. About the other girls. In fact, the only thing I’d wondered was where the other houses were located.
That’s why I’d taken it upon myself to help Evelyn in the beginning. Her situation reminded me of my mother.
Stuck with a monster.
Even though it was so much more than that.
Unable to escape.
Except she did—we all did.
I throw the covers off and take a quick shower. It’s barely light out, but I need to be in the office early to speak with one of my European clients. I should work out, but I’ve been putting that off a lot lately.
I’ve been putting a lot of things off lately.
I make a quick smoothie to drink on the tube. Tugging my coat over my suit, I lock up and head to the Blackfriars station. Like most bankers in London, I scroll through the news on my phone as the tube sways further downtown. It’s comical, actually—almost everyone surrounding me is doing a version of the same. I try not to smile as I check the time.Fuck.I’m going to be late, and I really hate being late.
I quickly walk to the grey, bland office building. Nodding to Gerald, the security guard, I quicken my pace as I round the corner to my office. I sit down and boot everything up as I remove my coat, and then it’s business as usual.
