Member-only story
Sex is Fun and Love Hurts
IV. Fear
I think I already wrote us, she whispers.
The butcher takes off his knives and his heavy apron, breathing a sigh of relief at the end of a long day. Eight hours of slaughtering livestock and cutting meat takes its toll. He doesn’t dislike it, though; he can get lost in the work, zoning out in a kind of flow that leaves little room for worry or rumination.
He pauses at the door, glancing around to make sure everything is in its place before he locks up. In the stillness and the silence, thoughts and memories come rushing in already. Can’t even make it out to the car.
You could push me against that wall right there and take me however you want, she whispers. Paint your name on my chest…
With a sort of shudder, he jerks his gaze away from the empty room and goes outside, locks up, waves good-bye to the owner across the parking area as he heads to his car. Only a forty-five minute drive until he gets home, finds something else to do to get those images out of his head.
Why was it never enough? She wanted more from him, always more, why couldn’t she be happy with what he could give? He had pushed his limits and stretched the boundaries and broken the rules further and further to make her happy, hadn’t he? to meet her growing list of needs that somehow felt more…
