Flame in the Dark

Flame in the Dark

“She really is a freak!”

Anderson’s words kept replaying over and over in her head, like the words of a horribly repetitive song.

Joan swung her black leisure car into her driveway finally. The closer she had sped toward her home, the more her shame and embarrassment bubbled; like a massive weight that had been placed upon her chest and stomach, suffocating her.

“She really is a freak!”

She felt her throat constrict and the muscles tighten almost painfully as she threw her car into park. Hot tears burned the back of her eyes and she felt her lower lip quiver involuntarily. This angered her.

Stop it stop it stop it

You’re nothing

No stop I’m…, she attempted in vain to silence the voices.

You’re a disgusting freak

Her normal organized, methodical thought process had been interrupted by harsh, taunting whispers. Her thoughts swirled and raged against each other, Joan was powerless to stop it at the moment.

She struck the side of her head with her open hand, twice. Anger had suddenly seized her like a vice and had eclipsed all of her other…feelings…as she stormed up her walkway. Jamming her key into the lock, she felt as if she were racing at this point, desperate to get inside. The lock clicked mercifully, and Joan yanked open the heavy door, stepped into her domicile and slammed it behind her, throwing her bag and keys in the general direction of where they belonged before pounding her fist against the wall.

I’m a freak

Her slippers sat waiting neatly in their assigned place by the door, but she kicked them aside angrily and tore her jacket off. She buried a hand in her hair and grasped at the pins and bands that confined it into the meticulous bun she wore with pride. Her eyes caught sight of her goldfish swimming in chaotic circles in its bowl, threatened by the abrupt change in the lighting and sound surrounding his habitat.

You want out too?

Even you can’t stand to be around me

Before she knew what she was doing she found her hands grasping the cool glass of the bowl. Lifting it eye level, she stared through the bowl at the fluttering fish inside. It darted to the opposite side of the bowl in fear. Joan felt an instant snap of rejection that caused her breaths to come out in short gasps as she hurled the fishbowl to the floor.

Rejection. Her mind was stung again by Anderson’s words.

I thought she was going to kiss me at one point!

Totally weird and creepy

The glass exploded on impact, the water flooded at her feet. She watched, in a brief daze of sorts, as the goldfish bounced across the floor before landing on a small mound of broken glass. It laid there, taking in deep gulps of air and twitching its tail futilely. Suddenly, Joan’s vision grew incredibly blurry and she realized as she glanced miserably around her kitchen, that her eyes were filled with hot tears.

Immaculacy. Cleanliness. Order. All very important to Joan. This was reflected in the décor of her home, if you could call it a home. Besides the shattered fish bowl scattered all over the kitchen floor and the quickly-expiring fish, the house looked like a show-home to her suddenly; a carefully arranged façade of control and contentment.

Look at you.

Joan blinked.

I tried to warn you, this is what happens when you let your emotions take over!

She heard her father’s strong, commanding voice take over in her mind, suddenly silencing the whispers and taunts she had heard previously.

You’re pointless.

Dad please, no, Joan struggled against the urge to beg, knowing it would disgust him and make things worse for her.

You’re worthless.

Joan’s eyes scanned the kitchen. A place for everything and everything in its place. A neat, orderly environment keeps a neat, orderly mind. These were the lessons that had been ground into the core of Joan’s very being.

Spying the closest thing in her reach, she shot an arm out and flipped a cutting board that had been sitting on her counter. The drinking glasses that were neatly arranged on top hit the ground and shattered.

That’s enough, Joan! 

She shook her head slightly, feeling uncharacteristic rebellion towards her father’s voice, and tore open a drawer filled with cutlery, all carefully placed in their individual slots.

Get a hold of yourself. Emotions lead to mistakes, Joan. Irreparable mistakes.

Ignoring the thundering echoes of her father, she flung her hand around in the drawer madly; silverware crashed around and landed wherever it could in its confines.

I’ll never be good enough, she thought to herself.

 An anguished cry ripped from her throat as she turned her attention to the glass bottles of liquor on a table beside her. She systematically dispatched them to the floor, tossing each one as if they belonged there.

Pathetic, her father sneered.

She was letting yet another glass bowl hit the floor when she heard a different voice.

“Joan!”

This one was soft, but demanding. She heard shoes crunching broken glass.

“Joan…” the voice was closer and even softer in tone now.

She felt hands on her shoulders, turning, pulling at her. Joan willed herself to open her eyes.

Vera?

Joan’s eyes widened for half a second as she appraised her deputy; standing in her kitchen , in her home, in her mess. Joan felt a quick burst of shame and tried to pull away from the grip Vera had on her upper arms but Vera held fast.

“Nononono…” Joan whimpered incoherently, shaking her head back and forth, her black and silver-streaked hair catching the tears that finally began to spill from Joan’s dark eyes.

She can’t be here, she can not see you like this… she heard her father warn her.

Strands of hair stuck to her wet face and she felt her knees finally give up. Joan slid down Vera’s frame, collapsing in the glass beneath her. Off balance and trying to support Joan’s larger frame, Vera staggered back a little, miraculously caught herself and quickly crouched down with Joan before she fell in the glass herself.

Joan’s head fell against Vera’s chest. A deep sob wracked her body and she cried out into the lapel of Vera’s work jacket.

“Shhh…” Vera shushed her softly, wrapping her arms around her boss; her mentor. She had witnessed the governor do some questionable things, but never yet had Vera lost faith in her.

“It’s ok, Joan.” She began to stroke Joan’s hair rhythmically, lowering her face gently to the top of Joan’s head and breathing her in; her soft, clean scent closer to Vera than ever before.

“I’m a freak I’m a freak I’m a freak I’m a freak…” she cried repetitively, the self-deprecation poured from Joan like a mantra. She began hitting her head against Vera’s chest.

“No, no. You’re not. You’re not a freak, Joan.” Vera soothed.

She can’t be here. Her father repeated.

She’s seen too much, she saw you lose control. You cannot trust her.

 Vera placed her hand on Joan’s back and rubbed small circles but Joan froze suddenly and sat up.

Her eyes met Vera’s.

“No, you ca-…what are you doing here? You can’t be here.” Joan shook her head dismissively. She weakly tried to pull away from Vera’s make-shift embrace.

She’ll use everything she’s seen against you, Joan.

“You were upset, I called to you in the parking lot at work but you didn’t hear me. I was worried. So I followed.” Vera stated, matter of factly. She didn’t let go of Joan completely but loosened her grip, resting her hands on Joan’s carefully.

Such a conflict of emotion ran through Joan’s over-worked mind. A very human part of her instinctually yearned for comfort right now; the warmth of Vera’s arms, the calm, confident way she was speaking to her. It almost felt intoxicating. But she couldn’t completely abandon the fear that Vera would look at her suddenly, shake her head in disgust and say, ”You really are a freak” and run out, eager to tell their colleagues what she had witnessed.

Joan’s eyes searched Vera’s face for fear, disgust, anger for how Joan had treated her in the infirmary only hours ago.

Vera’s eyes burned into Joan’s though, and her voice was still steady, hypnotic.

“I’m glad I did, otherwise you may not have had any glass left in your house to use for its intent or purpose.” A small, careful smile pulled the side of Vera’s mouth and she leaned in and pressed her lips against Joan’s forehead tenderly. Joan took a sharp breath in; the feel of Vera or anyone for that matter being this close to her while she was this vulnerable was overwhelming. She almost felt shock as she felt a heat spread across her forehead. It almost felt like a gentle electric current was flowing from Vera’s lips and into her aching head.

I’m disappointed in you Joan.

Joan snapped her head away from the warmth. No.

She couldn’t make this mistake twice, especially not in one day. Confusion swept over Joan, a feeling that Joan hated more than almost all others. Vera gripped Joan’s upper arms again, trying to draw her nearer.

“It’s ok.” Joan heard Vera murmur.

Joan’s knees ached from the glass and her head pounded from all of the emotion and conflict.

Joan. Be wary. Her father was still there, but his voice seemed further away, less imposing.

Joan looked up at Vera finally. Vera stared back at her and waited for Joan to tell her to leave, hoping that she wouldn’t. Knowing she was too close in physical proximity for the governors comfort level but not moving yet. And then surprisingly, Joan leaned back into Vera. The need to be closer to her suddenly swept everything else away. Vera was a flame in the dark and Joan was a moth.

Don’t. She heard in her mind.

Joan didn’t listen. Before she could stop herself, she felt her lips meet Vera’s gently and she internally flinched, waiting for Vera to pull away in shock or disgust, as Anderson had done, as others had done.

But Vera didn’t. In fact, she parted her lips and met the kiss, and Joan felt an encompassing wave of gratitude and relief crash over her. Tears spilled over Joan’s cheeks and she inhaled sharply against Vera’s mouth.

Vera brought her hand up to Joan’s face, her fingertips softly grazing Joan’s cheek, gently wiping at her tears as the kiss momentarily deepened. Vera’s hand moved into Joan’s hair, and she gently moved strands out of the woman’s face, tucking a lock behind Joan’s ear.

They pulled away for a second, each slightly open-mouthed, eyes scanning each other’s faces for approval, or disapproval. A sharp pain suddenly ripped Joan’s attention from Vera and down to her knee. The glass. There was glass everywhere and Joan became anxious at the thought of her home being in such disarray.

What have I done? What am I doing? She thought frantically.

You lost control, Joan. Was the cold, distant answer she got in return. Her breathing quickened and her vision narrowed. She could hear nothing but the blood pumping in her head.

“Joan.” Vera was pulling at Joan again, and when Joan snapped out of her thoughts and looked back at Vera, she saw Vera’s brow was knitted with concern as she appraised her fallen mentor. “Where did you go?” Vera asked softly.

“The glass…such a mess, I- I’m-”Joan trailed off, shaking her head slowly at the chaos around them. She looked into Vera’s eyes, felt them sweeping over her features. Vera shook her head slightly and cupped Joan’s face in her hands.

“Yep, you’re going to be just fine. I promise…” She smiled wryly.

Relief welled up inside of Joan, she had needed to hear that above all else. She was tired of fighting. She wanted to feel something.

She leaned back in, the fear of repudiation making her hesitant at first- but she took Vera’s lips with hers again. Vera moaned softly against her mouth and scooted her body closer to Joan, a subtle indication that the younger woman, inexperienced as she was, wanted more. It was Joan that wrapped her arms around Vera this time, taking control of the embrace, pulling Vera onto her lap. She gripped Vera’s side as they kissed, tongues exploring slightly. Joan felt a familiar hallowness in the bottom of her stomach and she trailed a hand up Vera’s back, over her neck and into her hair, rubbing slowly, pulling a little ,trying to release the strands from the confines of the bun Vera had worn to work. Vera smiled against Joan’s lips and reached her own hands up into her hair, her fingers grazing Joan’s. She released her hair and it tumbled over her slight shoulders. Joan’s senses were instantly flooded with the sweet scent of Vera’s loose hair and she gripped a handful close to the scalp firmly but gently and squeezed slightly. Vera took in a sharp breath.

The soft sounds of approval Vera intermittently let out were delicious music to Joan, and she felt her body rapidly responding to her deputy. Her heart thudding in her chest, their kiss deepened and their hands began to explore each others bodies. She unbuttoned Vera’s work jacket and Vera shrugged it off. Joan’s hands found Vera’s breasts and she ran them over the thin material of her white shirt, raking her fingernails gently over Vera’s nipples which were hardening underneath. This autonomic response delighted Joan and she groaned faintly at the unmistakable feel of the hot, sticky wetness that was forming in the space between her thighs. Years of suppression of a very basic human need was quickly overcoming Joan, and she closed her eyes against the light-headedness that had taken hold of her and forced herself to breathe.

**

Their clothing was now strewn across the carnage of the broken fishbowl, the liquor bottles, drinking glasses and bowls, the errant spoon, the dead goldfish. Their hasty coupling and desperate need for each others touch had prevented them from leaving the kitchen, and now the two women sat entwined, face to face. Vera’s head was buried in Joan’s neck and she gripped a shoulder while Joan continued rubbing Vera’s hardening clitoris in quickening circles. Vera gasped and felt herself grinding almost involuntarily into Joan’s hand, willing the governor’s fingers to plunge into her aching depths. Vera shifted upward slightly and Joan’s fingers moved easily through the slickness emanating from Vera’s core.

“Mmmm…” Vera moaned as she felt Joan’s fingers slide inside of her.

Joan felt her own sex throb as she explored Vera’s most sensitive region. She could smell Vera’s want and the scent made the knot in her lower belly tighten as her long, skilled fingers probed Vera. Joan moaned as Vera opened herself to Joan; her head tilted back slightly, eyes closed, bottom lip between her teeth. She gasped as Joan’s fingers returned to her aching clit and the welcomed pressure against the small, sensitive bundle of nerves. “Mmmm yes…”

“Right there, isn’t it Vera?” Joan’s voice was thick with lust and she continued her ministrations, quickening her pace as she felt Vera’s hips moving faster, her small body tensed as it prepared for the imminent release. Joan was close herself; seeing Vera in this state, body begging for relief that only Joan could give her.

 “Ohh  God, Joan mm--“ Vera moaned, the words caught in her throat and a small , strangled noise emerged instead as Vera orgasmed against Joan’s hand, her breath realeased in soft, quick shudders, hot against Joan’s neck.

The thought of the control she was exhibiting over Vera’s body caused such a response in her own body that before she realized it was happening, Joan’s own breath quickened and she felt everything inside of her tense for a second, then burst in such a powerful wave of pleasure that she saw stars momentarily behind her tightly closed eyes before everything turned white. She gasped and grabbed for Vera’s hips, needing to hold onto something, but her hands closed around nothing.

“Joan.” She heard distantly.

Initially she feared the voice must belong to her father, lurking, waiting to ruin this tremendous, sublime moment; something she so seldom allowed herself to experience.

 “I’m here, Joan,” she heard , and realized the voice actually belonged to Vera, but suddenly she sounded far away, and her warmth had faded. Joan felt a weightless sensation, as if she were floating away, and she felt her head moving back and forth and her mouth working to answer  Vera. I’m here! She wanted frantically to call back to her.

But nothing came out.

She was acutely aware that something was gripping her wrists roughly and the sensation caused her to momentarily panic and she weakly struggled to free her arms.

“Why is she restrained?” she heard Vera ask. Her voice was closer and Joan slowly turned her head to the source of the sound.

 Restrained?!

 Joan’s eyes snapped open and she squinted against sudden brightness. She realized almost instantly that she was laying in a bed. How?  But she couldn’t answer herself. Thinking was impossible, her thoughts were uncoordinated and disbanded. She fought to center her vision, eyes sweeping around until they landed on a small figure standing beside her. As her eyes found some semblance of focus, she saw her deputy standing beside her bed in the bright white room.

Joan’s eyes locked onto Vera’s and she tried with all her remaining strength to keep her sights steady on her.

Vera felt the hairs on her arm stand up as she kept Joan’s haunting gaze, and she knelt over her, taking her hand.

“You’re going to be just fine, I promise.” She whispered into Joan’s ear.

 Joan closed her eyes again heavily.