Tempted (15 page)

I’ve
just fallen asleep and am succu
mbing to a dream unlike any I’ve ever experienced before.
 
A faceless man has his hand around my throat and is kissing me, greedily.
 
His hands are groping beneath my skirt and his breathing is heavy.
 
He has just tossed me over onto my stomach when I am awakened by a scream from my mother.

“It’s 3
o’clock! It’s 3 o’clock! Dear L
ord, don’t just sit there like your turtle, Claire.
 
It’s 3 o’clooooooooooccccccckkkkkkkkkk!”

The upshot of all the caterwauling is that my mom has planted several virtual crops on Farmville, and if she doesn’t
harvest them now they will wilt, and
Betsy Duncan from her bridge group will have more fake money than her and will be able to buy the carousel Mom’s been eyeing and saving for, before Mom does.
 
In other words, the sky is falling.

Spewing venom at me for my sloth, Mom demands I get on my laptop and log into her account.
 
Apparently
,
I don’t fully realize the gravity of the situation.

I use a different browser for her account so that I can stay logged into it all the time, for emergencies such as these.
 
While the Mom-dedicated browser conducts its opening ceremonies, my own account refreshes and I see there is a new status update from Alex:

I sit speechless and momentarily stunned until I am roused by Mom bellowing, “Claire! CLAIRE!” at incredible decibels as she shuffles her way over to me at lightning speed.

We make quick work of the harvesting and replanting
,
and Mom asks me to move some of her crops and gardens for aesthetic purposes.
 
Since she can’t make heads or tails of my laptop’s trackpad, I get to do all the work while she gets to do all the ordering.

Her virtual garden
is
overflowing with vegetables at th
e teetering edge of perfection
.

First we start with the bell peppers
...

B
ell pepper plants, bearing massive, firm, sweet delicacies big enough that t
hey overflow even a large hand.
 

We move to the tomatoes
...

The four tomato plants are almost breaking under the welcome weight of red, ripe fruit that squirt in your mouth
, delicious right off the vine.
 

Next, the cucumber patch, as beads of sweat begin to collect on my brow
...

Long, smooth, and thick enough that you’d have to use two hands to wrap around once, the cucumbers are growing and reproducing wildly, climbing highe
r and higher up the east fence.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat as she directs me to the zucchini
...

The four zucchini bushes (yes, they’re that large) are deep pine green, resplendent with the lush, velvety lips and blossoms of edible flowers whose place will be taken soon by
formidable, cylindrical squash.

At this point
,
moans escape my lips as I experience a mind-blowing, full-body orgasm caused merely by the power of Alex’s words
–
Alex’s electrically-charged, erotic words.
 
The feeling is deep within my core and surges through my limbs to my extremities like a charge of uncontrollable electricity.
 
It is not localized within my intimate female parts and is something that can only be described as an orgasm in reverse.
 
There is no buildup, no ‘getting close’.
 
Just an immediate and intense wave of bliss and release
–
a series of waves, actually.
 
Multiple orgasms that fill me with a euphoria I’ve never known, more than even the best climax I’ve ever enjoyed at the hands of an ardent lover.
 

“Are you alright, Claire?” Mom asks, looking puzzled and a bit concerned.

“Shall we handle the Brussels
sprouts next?” I ask, barely able to carry on a conversation.

The Brussels
sprouts have great, oval balls tucked against the wide girth of their towering stalks, r
eady to be steamed and mouthed.
 

“Strawberries.
 
We have to do the strawberries now!”
 
I gasp as I sink deeper into a Tarantella-like frenzied trance.

And the ever
-
bearing strawberry bed is graced by dozens of plump, luscious berries so sweet and delicious their necta
r forces your tongue to dance.

Without another word
,
I whip through her remaining crops of fruit trees and berries.

Still, as enticing as all of that sounds and is, all of these fruits
are best shared. Anyone hungry?

Unable to contain myself an instant longer, I snap the laptop closed and, jumping to my feet, squawk, “I’m taking you home.”
 

Eyes wide and mouth even wider, Mom nods her acquiescence.
 

That’s quite enough farming for one day.
 

I sleep restlessly
,
un
aware of what I dreamt about, but certain
that it was sexual.
 
Lately
,
I’
ve been awakening with the strange sensation of carnal pleasures taking place during my slumbers, though I never recall anything concrete.
 
And just recently
,
I
’ve
begu
n
to
feel as though the eyes of a ravenous voyeur are upon me
at times
, both in my dreams and sometimes even when awake.
 
It is at once unnerving and arousing.

Last night, I was in a
mood
, to be sure.
 
Alex’s virile vegetation had me writhing in my car seat throughout the drive to Mom’s house.
 
On the way home
,
I tried to
make sense of
what happened.
 
I’
ve never done drugs
,
so I hav
e no point of reference, but I’
m quite convinced that what I experienced would be considered the heroin of sexual experiences.
 
And after that one hit
,
I have become a junkie.
 
I want more.
 
Alas,
as I made the drive back home, the feeling of wonder faded
,
and I despaired of ever having that rush again.
 
I feared it was an isolated incident, impossible to replicate.

Later in the evening, while doing research on cleaning solvents to use in a show segment, I caught myself moaning and running a hand over my breast as I read about Simple Green and its
eco
-friendly properties.
 
Suddenly, everything seemed painted with lust and sensual passion.
 
I questioned if the world was always that way, if, perhaps, my rigid routine mindset had closed my eyes to it.

* * *

It’s a crisp clear day following yesterday’s storm
,
and I decide to enjoy it by doing my morning work happily perched at one of the outdoor tables at Starbucks.
 
I toss some breakfast at the menagerie, grab my car keys and laptop, and head out.
 
The colors of
the
sky, trees and flowers are more vibrant than I’ve ever seen
–
much more so than can be attributed to a cleansing rain.
 
I think of last night’s touchless, full-body orgasms and begin to wonder if they really occurred or not.
 
Then again, it really doesn’t matter, because something has changed within me.
 
It’s as simple as that.

Once ensconced at a cozy table overlooking the little shopping enclave, I tentatively sip my steami
ng
Mocha
through it’s cool armo
r of whipped cream, and break off bits of banana nut loaf, unconsciously pacing
the consumption of
both treats to ensure they are finished off together.
 
I open my laptop and go straight to Facebook.
 
No checking email on Sundays, a small gift to myself.
 
As is now usual, my screen opens to Alex’s page
.  Today
he has posted a good morning message
–
o
ne that is making the morning very, very good for the members of his harem.

I am arrested
by his boldness.
 
To be sure, h
e is
an expert bait and switch man
, dragging the most seductive red herrings imaginable across his page, slowly taunting his devotees in the most agonizingly pleasurable ways imaginable until they are in a state of delirious frustration.
 
But this
...
this
..
.
 
There is n
o beating around the bush here.  Eek! 
Figuratively beating around the bush, of course.
 
Gad, now he’s got me doing it too!

Yes, this post is decidedly different.
 
It’s direct, unequivocal, and oh so evocative.
 
He’s an adult male who still wakes up with an erect penis, simple as that, and he’s celebrating it.
 
For an instant, I want to disappear in my Starbucks chair so that no one can see my intense arousal.
 
But, the feeling evaporates immediately and turns to a desire to disr
obe, to dip my fingers into my
Mocha
,
and use them to paint my nipples with the whipped cream topping.
 
This man is doing things to me.
 
I have never been part of the pack, never went along with the crowd, but I’m more than happy to count myself among his groupies, though I prefer the term ‘BandAids.’
 
Utterly unable to form a thought, let alone a sentence, I decide to chime in too.