Read Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Hazel Kelly
Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1)
Sins of the Flesh
Hazel
Kelly
©
2014 Hazel Kelly
All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied,
or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your
support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
All
characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons is
purely coincidental.
Table
of Contents
“Sometimes the
wrong choices bring us to the right places.”
-
Unknown
I kicked him in the balls.
Not surprisingly, he didn’t see it coming. Just like I couldn’t
have predicted that he was going to tell the entire boy’s lacrosse team that I
had a “bush like a 70’s porn star.” Which isn’t even true. Not that I would
know anything about porn star bush from any generation.
And for the record, he wasn’t complaining when he was screwing
me in the back of his station wagon on Saturday night.
Anyway, after I delivered the swift kick, I did the only thing I
could think to do. I went home, got a pair of scissors, and stared at my crotch
for a while. Then I snipped away at my pubic hair one little tuft at a time
until it looked like a recently mowed lawn. Or perhaps more accurately, the
lawn of people who are about to go out of town for a while so they cut the
grass extra short. A barber might call it a number two. Maybe even a number
one.
In fact, it was so short that afterwards it itched and snagged
at my lacey underwear so much I couldn’t even think about anything else. Except
for whether other girls were putting themselves through the same excessive
grooming bullshit.
And for what?
To impress a boy whose erect penis looked like an acorn that
even a squirrel would pass over?
To make matters worse, he barely even made it inside me before
he busted his nut. It makes me sick now to think about how considerate I was of
his feelings. Like when I told him that it was alright, that it
happens to
lots of guys
.
Or at least every guy I’ve ever slept with.
I didn’t even mind at the time that there was no sexual pleasure
in it for me. Because I thought it was satisfaction enough that I finally got
to hook up with Ian Hendricks, captain of the lacrosse team and star of so many
girls’ fantasies at my high school.
I thought sleeping with him would make me feel good about
myself. Or make me more popular. At the very least, I thought I wouldn’t have
to worry about finding a date to the next few school dances.
Instead, I got absolutely zilch except for an ill-placed hickey
and a reputation with the boy’s lacrosse team for being the girl whose pubes
are a fire hazard.
My only hope is that someone gets alcohol poisoning or expelled soon
so people forget about my newsworthy crotch.
God forbid the rumor keeps spreading until the only way I can
stop it is to reveal a hairless pussy to the entire school. Which probably
wouldn’t even work. As soon as my pants fell around my ankles, I’d go from
being the victim to the perpetrator.
But what really hurts- besides my snagging panties- is the
realization that Ian never actually cared about me all that much in the first
place. All the bullshit that came out of his mouth about how cool he thought I
was and how much he liked me was just the toxic spawn of enough Jack Daniels to
sedate a small horse. And I fell for it.
I genuinely believed he wanted more than to get in my pants and
spread vicious rumors about what he found in there. It pains me to admit it,
but I really can’t decide who the bigger schmuck is.
My only saving grace is that I didn’t submit to his will when he
tried to push my head down. After all, the way things are going lately, he
probably would’ve busted in my eye before I even had a chance to lick his mini
Chupa Chup.
So the only real outcome of the handsy, drunken tryst was that
it made me want to die of shame. Which is nothing new. I’ve felt that way a
hundred times. Unfortunately, shame takes her time, making me suffer just
enough that I wish I were dead but not enough to put me out of my misery.
So while I wait for humiliation to stop my heart, I just keep
doing the only thing that makes me feel better. I binge until I’m numb all
over, until my eyes go dull, and my stomach is stretched to its limit. Then I
purge until my throat is raw, my eyes are bloodshot, and my stomach growls with
emptiness.
Because even though life sucks, at least I can eat all the junk
food I want without getting fat.
And it does make me feel better. Sort of. For a second. Not the
part when I’m throwing up. Just the before and after.
I like to pretend the food is my problems. But no matter how
many times I chew them up, spit them out, and flush them away, nothing ever gets
fixed. If anything, I’m left more miserable and depressed than ever.
Of course, I wish I could stop doing this to myself. But I
can’t.
Most of the time, I just want to go to sleep and wake up
tomorrow and be halfway through my twenties. Thirties even. It doesn’t really
matter. I just want to be somewhere better and easier than here.
I mean, there must be a parallel universe or something where I
can enjoy a single marble frosted donut without feeling compelled to scarf the
whole box and make myself sick. A place where there are no boys, only men. And
they don’t lie to your face, blow their load at the speed of light, or hurt you
by gossiping about the landscape design of your vagina.
2: Dawn
I let a yawn escape through my nose and wondered if Tina might
like to have lunch tomorrow and whether my car needed an oil change. But something
began to penetrate my thoughts before I could decide if I needed to buy milk on
the way home.
“Hello? Dawn? What do you think we should do? Dawn!”
The sound of my name jerked me back to reality. “Yes, Judy?”
“Were you even paying attention?!” she asked, leaning back on
the couch.
I sat up straighter and answered her pinched face.
“I’m sorry. I just thought it was so lovely that you were both
talking to each other. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Judy rolled her eyes and blew so much air out from between her
lips I thought she might wiz around the room like a deflating balloon.
Meanwhile, her husband, Thomas, sat motionless except for a hand that came up
to wipe her spittle off his cheek.
The ice queen folded her arms. “Well?”
To be honest, I had no idea what she’d been banging on about.
But by then I’d been counseling couples for so long that I didn’t really have
to listen all the time.
It was obvious that Judy would never put in the work necessary
to disarm the hostile environment she’d created at home. And even if she would,
I doubted that Thomas was sufficiently motivated to win back whatever crumbs of
respect she still had for him.
Any idiot could see they were a terrible match. It was a mystery
how they ever hooked up in the first place.
My best guess was that she got pregnant and they weren’t
creative enough to think of a more practical solution than getting married. Or
perhaps they were both lonely and thought things might be easier if they were
lonely together.
Which sounds nice in theory, but it never works. I know because
I was really lonely one winter and decided that maybe I just felt alone because
I wasn’t around enough people. So I went to the mall. Big mistake. All that did
was make me feel even more alone by highlighting exactly how many people there
were that I was isolated from.
Of course, it didn’t help that it was Christmas time, and I had
a broken heart.
For the record, things are better now… though one could argue
it’s been too long since I truly enjoyed someone else’s company. Apart from
Tina. And Snarls.
And in my weaker moments I do wonder how things might be
different if Scott were still in my life. How could I not? He was the best
company I’ve ever had. It’s only natural that I compare everyone to him.
That’s the real reason I feel so alone. Not because other people
aren’t alright, but because they’re not him. They can never be him, and they
can never make me feel like I felt with him.
When were together I felt shiny and interesting and sexy. Like a
2.0 version of myself. Like I was more than the sum of my parts. I also felt
twenty years younger. Which I was.
Funny how when we’re young we think everything is the end of the
world. When Scott left, I could’ve sworn he took every last drop of color and
whimsy from my life. If someone had told me back then that it was all going to
be okay, I would’ve told them to go fuck themselves.
But it was okay. I was okay. And after I stopped feeling sorry
for myself, I realized I could be shiny and interesting on my own.
But I think it’s all right that I still miss him sometimes.
Because it means what we had was real.
“Well?” Judy asked again.
“You really want my opinion?” I asked, knowing the hour was up.
It was time to either hook them for another session or get them to fuck off with
their terrible vibes forever.
“That’s what we’re paying you for, isn’t it?” Judy asked,
uncrossing her legs.
I looked at the couple on the couch, baffled again at their ill
matched energy. Judy’s whole body down to the hair on her arms was sitting straight
up. Beside her, Thomas was slumped like a pile of dead leaves.
I hooked my pen under the bracket on my clipboard and cleared my
throat. “Have you considered sleeping with other people?”
“What?” Judy leaned back as if I’d struck her across the face.
“No, of course not!”
“What about you Thomas?” I turned to him and so did Judy, her
eyes focusing on him like laser beams.
“No,” he said, shaking his head emphatically in case Judy
couldn’t read his lips. “I haven’t.”
“Well that’s fantastic for you both.” I scooted to the edge of
my seat. “That means you both still want to make this work.” I clasped my hands
and shook them. “I can’t tell you how important your continued commitment to
this process is. That’s what’s going to get us through.”
Judy’s mouth fell open.
“Unfortunately, that’s all the time we have for today. But to
build on the good work you’ve been doing, I want you to force yourselves to
give each other some real kisses before I see you again. At least three. And
they have to be a slow, openmouthed kisses for as long as you can stomach.”
