Accidental Leigh (3 page)
Earthquakes and ER visits
The morning came without incident. That is no phone calls, no messages, nothing from my sister
. I plodded around the kitchen and shook off the cobwebs. I heated up the tea kettle for a cup of tea and I filled a bowl with my favorite cereal and milk. This was the one time of day that Luna was sweet to me. She jumped up on the counter and brought her whiskers close to the bowl. I took a small bowl of milk and I let Luna lap it up while I ate.
I watched her as I tore the roof of my mouth open on Captain Crunch. I thought about how c
ats are such strange pets. With having the complete knowledge that you are about to invite a paranoid schizophrenic creature into your home… to live with you, would you still do it? A cat owner does. How about willingly adopting a creature that the English language can’t even describe in a single word. You know, someone who experiences a dark satisfying pleasure through maliciously ruining someone’s life and then rejoicing as they witness the other person’s misfortune? The Germans have a word for that evil person, schadenfreude. I have a word too, cat. You can enter the phrase domestic medium-hair into the description.
I thought about calling Sarah, the suspense was killing me. Did my experiment have any affect?
I realized I hadn’t written that much, but from previous conversations with Sarah, I had learned one of the greatest disappointments of her marriage was that Bill was not orally inclined. She remarked that he seemed timid and reluctant to participate in enjoying what she called a “taco dinner.” I cringed every damn time she called it a “taco dinner.” Who the hell refers to getting what could be the absolute in oral pleasure as a fucking “taco dinner?”
I knew that from what I wrote, she
should have at least been ecstatic in the change that came over Bill. I held off and spent my morning lounging around in the laziest Sunday morning mode possible. By noon, I couldn’t take it any longer, I called Sarah.
“Hey
, Sarah! So how’s your weekend so far?” I crossed my fingers and winced, waiting for some great news about Sarah’s glorious passionate night.
“Oh, just the same old thing. We finally corralled the little monsters into bed and for once we planned to watch a movie, but we both fell asleep.”
“Really? That’s all? I mean, I’m sorry. I guess being Mom to those little cuties can really take the steam out of a girl.”
Our conversation digressed into a number of trivial topics before we said goodbye. Once I had ended the call
, I sat down and wondered if in fact, I had drawn too much of a conclusion from my parents incident. I’ve done it before. Something similar had happened when I was in grade school. Let’s just admit it. Every little girl daydreams at some point about having magic powers. I know I did.
All kids operate within the doctrine of
a primitive belief system, where there is no such thing as a coincidence. A kid gets the hiccups simply because they were sassing their mom, or it was raining because they were sad. Well, I would imagine myself as a long lost descendent of a Salem witch. Of course, it didn’t matter that I was a descendant of Jewish grandparents that emigrated from Belgium in the 1920’s. Kids can overlook tiny details like that with a little use of their imaginations. So it was with me.
Nathan Burnside
was his name and he was a habitual thorn in my side. I could never forget that kid. He picked on me relentlessly for no reason. It was what he liked to do for shits and giggles. I imagined that I was able to use my awesome super powers for revenge against his scruffy little ass. Looking back, I’m sure there must have been a million kids like me. We all fantasized about being able to take down our bully with a simple wiggle of our finger. Then it happened. Nathan was out in front of the school, with his little trolls, pushing, shoving, and berating some poor little boy. From behind a large tree trunk, I wiggled my finger and wished a curse on him. I no sooner completed my magic spell, when a large branch blew down from the tree above him. It caught everyone by surprise, including me.
The limb came down and nailed Nathan with a direct hit. I confidently marched over to his fallen
body while he writhed in pain. It must have been quite a sight, a nine year old girl waiving her finger at her vanquished bully. I shouted at him, “I’ve got powers! And I’m not afraid to use them!”
I’m sure I would have been a fresh target for every bully and troll present, but it was hard to argue with the fact that Nathan had his collar bone broken by my mere finger wag. In time
, I realized the old tree branch was an accident waiting to happen and it was quite convenient for it to have hit a target like that little asshole.
Now, back to the problem at hand
. I supposed, I could have possibly been making my parents electrifying sexual encounter out as something much more than it was. Perhaps, it was just the shock of having my mother actually tell me the intimate details. I was so completely distraught that I
thought
I heard her say things that matched my story. In other words, I was reading way too much into my own writing. There. Done. I was satisfied that no problem really existed and it was back to taking out my sexual and emotional frustrations on writing a wonderfully raunchy story. I finally felt absolutely liberated to write freely, even if I never intended to publish a word of it. I found that writing was a good form of therapy for my twisted and warped mind.
That afternoon
, I began to write once again. I imagined a new story line that would include plenty of hot and heavy sex, because I damn sure needed it. I always imagined a “surprise” scene, the kind where the woman meets a super-hot, yet complete stranger. The kind of stranger with thick, dark, yet cropped hair, smoldering eyes, and let’s not forget the beautiful six pack abs we all fantasize about lazily running our tongues over. The stranger takes complete control and gives the woman everything she could ever want from a lover and more, without her ever having to ask for it. It’s like he knows her inner most thoughts and sexual desires and fulfills them perfectly. Of course, she is more than willing to engage in a little harmless BDSM to achieve her wildest thoughts. I mean, really, who wouldn’t want that? Rock my world... please!
I should state
, just for the record, and even though it sounds fun as hell. It’s not something I would ever do in real life, not in a million years. Yet the thought of the storyline had my mind reeling with excitement. In a world of fantasy, what’s wrong with a little fun and a harmless slutty encounter? Just in case, I avoided using the names of any real people that I knew.
Clean-up in aisle three
George didn’t mind stocking the grocery store shelves at nig
ht. The heavier the boxes were, the better of a workout he got. After all, he needed to stay in top shape, as his male modeling career was just about to take off. Few people came in at the late hour and he enjoyed the peace and quiet.
Brandy was a take charge girl. Her days were filled with kicking corporate
ass and taking boardroom names. She didn’t have time for relationships, but she had her needs. Needs that could easily be taken care of by that stock boy lifting those boxes up over his head. She watched him intently, letting her desire build up. She was a wild cat, a huntress, preparing to take down her prey and devour him. She was still in her business attire and she let her hair loose from its updo. Her black hair cascaded down over her back in preparation for her move.
The timing was right. He had stopped to lift his
t-shirt up and wipe his forehead. He revealed a rock hard set of sculpted abs and pecs to the woman at the end of the aisle and he knew it. George wasn’t shy and he often delighted in the way women came into the store and drooled over him. It stoked his already over confident ego.
Brandy walked up to him and grabbed his ass with one hand and
let her other hand run down his chest. She looked at him as though she were going to eat him alive. When she spoke, her throaty voice came out as more of a growl than the purr she intended. “I don’t want to know your name, I don’t want your number. I just want this.” She grabbed the bulge that was easily visible through his jeans. “Now, get into that back office and fuck me.”
“Yes
, ma’am.” George knew this type of woman, and he had no problem with her direct approach. They walked into the small office that was situated behind the vegetable section. She pushed him back and down onto the desk and immediately unzipped his jeans. She appreciated that his erection was hard, ready, and huge. She pulled his jeans off of him and then she wasted no time in tossing off her jacket and her skirt. She climbed on top of him and rode him until she was overcome with an earth shattering orgasm.
I didn’t think it was too bad, after all, I was just getting started at this. Mostly,
it was fun to write. I had no immediate intention of actually using this or any other story for anything more than my own amusement. I added it to the file of steamy snippets along with Sarah and Bill’s mouthwatering romp.
When I woke up the next day, I was quite relieved at not having to worry about some
freaky paranormal activity occurring in my life. It was a huge weight taken off of my shoulders. I relaxed and turned on the local news. During the night a natural gas line had apparently ruptured under the city streets. It centered on the block that housed the local grocery store. The force of the explosion was so violent that it cracked the sidewalks, split the asphalt on the street, and shattered the windows from the grocery store. The station was running news feeds of the witnesses that were caught in the disaster. My attention was diverted by my phone ringing. It was Kelly.
“Leigh! Did you see the news?”
“A little, something about a gas line explosion down at the Safeway. I sure hope nobody got hurt.”
“No, I guess everyone is OK. Watch the news. My cousin was in the store when it happened! They interviewed her and some of the others. You watching?”
“Yeah, I am. It looks like they are just now starting to run the on-site interviews.”
“There! There she is! That’s my cousin, Brandy!”
“Brandy?” I sat down on the arm of the couch. I knew this was bad news.
A disheveled and bewildered woman of about
thirty appeared on the screen. She had a Safeway shirt wrapped around her waist and her blouse was unbuttoned.
“Why is your cousin half naked at a grocery store?” I was hoping maybe she
was afflicted with some unusual psychological condition that caused her to impulsively strip while picking up some ice cream.
“Just watch, they ran this earlier. You are not going to believe it.”
Brandy was seemingly in shock and didn’t respond to the reporter’s nagging questions. A young, well-built man was walking in the background. More like slinking away. He was naked and was keeping his waist covered with a piece of cardboard.
Kelly was rejoicing in the scene. “Ha ha! I always knew Brandy was a slut. She was fucking that guy when that explosion happened.
I just know it. So obvious! I wonder what she’ll have to say-”
I interrupted Kelly as she gloated over her
cousin’s embarrassment. “Kelly, I wrote that. Not the explosion exactly, but I wrote a scene about a woman named Brandy who screws a Safeway worker.”
“Huh
? Why in the hell would you write that? I didn’t even know you knew Brandy.”
“No! No, I don’t know her. I was just playing around with some writing
, and I tried to use names of people that I didn’t know. Damn it!”
“Don’t feel too bad, Leigh. If you wouldn’t have wrote it, she would have been screwing some other stranger. What about the explosion?
Why did you blow up the Safeway? I sure hope it wasn’t because they stopped selling your favorite chip dip.”
“Of course not.
But that isn’t a bad idea. I freakin’ loved the old dip. Bastards.” I had to run to my desk and open the story. That was it. I HAD blown up the store. Then I read the words out loud to Kelly. “She was overcome with an earth shattering orgasm. That’s what I wrote.”
Kelly gasped audibly through my phone
. “Fuck- no wonder she couldn’t talk. Earth shattering? Really, Leigh?” Then she asked me apprehensively, “Leigh, what other stuff did you write?”
“Nothing. Well
, I wrote something about Sarah and Bill the night before, but apparently nothing happened to them. I asked my sister how her night was and she said they fell asleep watching a movie.”
“Well, you
better check back with them today. Maybe there is a delayed reaction or something to this magic.”
I wandered around my living room, trying to absorb what had happened
. I needed to come to grips with the magic once again. “Damn it!” I yelled and then I called Sarah. There was no answer, so I left a message for her to call me back as soon as possible. I waited a couple of hours before I tried again. After I left another message, I truly worried. Sarah was always home on Mondays. It was early afternoon when I finally got a call back from her.
“How’s it going
, Sarah? I was getting worried, usually I hear back from you pretty quickly.”
“
Oh, well, I had a little medical issue. Everything is fine now, no worries.”