Lockdown | Conor Mason

A Beautiful Lie

The midmorning sun sparkled on the ocean just out the window. I rolled over and stretched, my hands hitting the headboard, feeling the sheets cool against my legs, tickling me softly.

And just like that, it was one of...those mornings.

The tension rose like a heat to my midsection as I heaved a long breath, blinking away sleep. Not that I could go back to sleep now, even if I tried. Nope, my body was at full alert, waiting for me to pay it attention, to relieve the tension, to...do something about it.

She appeared in my mind, unbidden, but oh so welcome. I could see her wild hair, those tiny hands, her quiet, bright smile.

And the curve of her thighs, the roundness of her ass in those jeans, the ones that she had no idea drove me crazy...

I pushed off the covers, dropped my feet on the floor and beelined for the bathroom.

The water was cold -- why did it take so long for it to get hot in this place?! -- as I reached beyond the shower curtain to feel it streaming down my fingers. Dropping my sweatpants to the floor was a mild relief, since they'd grown conspicuously tight. But it wasn't even close to the release I needed.

Jesus, I could barely think straight when I woke up like this.

My vision was clouded with her: I could see her hands on my neck, on my shoulders, her fingers everywhere, fluttering over my skin, moving slowly but decidedly downwards.

My eyes fluttered closed as my palm, still wet from the shower's spray, found its target and began to move.

I imagined her smiling at me, whispering in my ear, her soft lips brushing against mine. I could practically feel her warm body against me, under me now, her head tipping back in ecstasy as I watched her, stroking her hair, hearing her soft voice, letting out beautiful little moans...

I couldn't wait longer. I pushed aside the curtain and stepped in, my hand switching on like a piston.

My whole body tensed, ramping up so quickly than I steadied myself against the tiles with my free hand. My breathing came fast and ragged as the water poured over my shoulders and into my open mouth. A low grunt came out, and echoed along the walls as the tension finally released, spasming through my body, and I nearly collapsed, panting, legs shaking beneath me.

Fuck. I hadn't had one like that in...well, in a long time. A very long time.

I leaned back and stood under the water, letting it stream over me in streaks, now burning hot to the touch. This wasn't the first time this had happened. And I reckoned it wouldn't be the last.

There really was no more denying it, was there, I thought, as I reached a shaky hand for the soap.

--

I tossed one last sweater into my suitcase and flipped it closed, pressing it down on the bed and pulling the stubborn zipper around the side. As I yanked, its metal teeth closed onto my thumb, and I yelped aloud.

Shaking my hand wildly, as if to shake off the pain, I dragged the suitcase to the door. My boots felt cold as I stepped into them and my coat stiff as I threw it around my shoulders. My face looked tired and small in the mirror next to the door, with my hair, as usual, frizzing out wildly in every direction. I looked away, pulling my mask up over my mouth and nose and grabbing my keys from their dish.

I'm doing the right thing, I reassured myself through the anxiety. They need me. I need to go.

As I stepped into the hall, my phone buzzed. I looked at it and felt my face flush. Conor.