Masked Thunder

CHAPTER 2

MARILYN GREEN’S POV

“Thank you,” we said, and laughed again. It felt unreal, just standing there on the almost empty dance floor. There was a black woman in the corner with her morbidly obese white husband in a wheelchair. They moved slowly, holding each other's hands. They looked so happy, even though I secretly wondered why the woman had to be the one sacrificing so much for the relationship.

“You're gone again…” He said very close to my ears and I looked up into his eyes again.

“Huh?” I felt a little shocked that he was still there. That I was still there.

“You never stay in the moment, do you?” He said it kindly and sexily, but his certainty irked me. His knowing tone made me want to crawl out of my physical body and always follow him around, flicking a feather in his face, so he always looks unserious.

“Why do you talk like…” I tasted the alcohol in my burp as the liquid threatened to turn back up through my mouth. I reached up, holding my mouth shut.

“You need to puke?” He asked, running to the bar and returning with an empty ice pail. I knew he was just trying to help, but I was mad that he was right yet again. His certainty and knowing of things reminded me of my ex, who shall never be named.

I pushed the pail angrily out of my face, and looked up to scream at him for his kindness, but I felt the liquid leave my throat, and I whispered, “f**k!” in my head as all the contents of my belly poured generously onto the blue-eyed man's shirt.

I kept puking. It stained his pants, his white Ralph Lauren T-shirt, his Rolex and his designer sneakers. He looked expensive and understated, but covered in my puke.

When the vile tasting liquid eventually stopped coming up my throat, I looked over at him standing akimbo before me. He looked helpless and angry. He looked so miserable and handsome.

Something about the angry sparks that lighted his blue eyes got to me and I burst into raucous and uncontrollable laughter.

I stood shaking like a whistling pine in my mirth. I wanted badly to feel sorry for him, to apologize and mean it with all penitence, but the laughter held onto me, wrecking my belly with what felt like volcanic shocks.

I straightened up, still laughing. The blue-eyed man took two steps, and he had successfully breached the short distance between us. I wasn't sure what to do as I watched him press his lips hard against mine.

His kiss was heady and intense. There was no tongue, but he tasted and savored my tightly shut lips tenderly until my lips started to part for him of their own volition. But he moved away from me as I tried to introduce my tongue into his mouth. It was intensely rude, and I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I really love your eyes, Marilyn,” His saying my name shocked me even further. I was not sure what to say to this man. That confused me, even as inebriated as I was.

“Ummm…” I tried to find my words, but they failed me woefully. “Why did you do that?” I finally asked. A part of me wanted to hit him or yell at him for being so bold, but I also secretly wondered what else his mouth could do since he kissed so well.

“I have wanted to kiss you since our eyes first locked as I walked in here.” He said calmly, completely unbothered by the confused flashes of emotions that ravaged my body.

“Just then? Have you been stalking me?” I asked, trying to get something that I could use as leverage to be very mad at him.

“Where is that coming from?” He looked genuinely confused, but I couldn't be bothered about his feelings when I was struggling to understand mine. Why was that stolen kiss on my mind?

“You called me Marilyn. How do you know my name when I don't know yours?” I spat at him through clenched teeth.

“Oh. I got your name from reading your friends’ lips here all night.” He smirked like it was sexy. How can someone who looks so cool be so damn arrogant? A question that greatly perturbed me.

“That doesn't give me your name though,” I insisted.

He smiled warmly at me, and it gave his eyes a weird glint that I found oddly endearing.

“Hey, since you've puked on me, will you at least accompany me home to change so I can drive you home?” He said simply, calmly.

I looked him up and down, wondering why I said nothing even though I had a million little retorts running endlessly through my mind. He was too comfortable in his own skin. He seemed like the type of man who could not relate with suffering financially, but who would come through a hurricane to save me if I needed it.

“Are you trying to get me into your bed? Cause if you are, I can spare you the stress and just alert you that it's a wrong f*****g number,” I said finally, pulling my most menacing voice.

He laughed heartily, “You are so adorable, you know.”

“f**k you!”

“I know you want to,” and he laughed some more. “Please come with me, Maril,”

“I am not going anywhere with you!” I retorted. I was angry because he was right, but also mostly because I did want to f**k him. I liked that he called me Maril too. It was corny and stupid, but it felt special coming from him; like it just had to be special because he said it. He smiled at my outburst and held my hand tenderly in his. I did not even think to resist.

“It's harder when you fight it,” he said warmly into my left ear. I felt my n*****s engorged as his warm, moist breath fanned my neck. I rolled my eyes.

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“Are you sure you're good, babes? You look really washed up and sickly.” Danica said while we hung out at her’s.

“Yes… I was going to ask what's up with that?” Azalea added while making banana pancakes, my absolute favorite breakfast. Honestly, I could probably eat it for all three meals of the day, but I'd never tell that to Patty. She was a bodybuilder/gym person in active use. At least that's what we called her in exaggerated whispers we knew she could hear and did not care about.

“I don't know, actually. I have just been feeling weakness, dizziness and nausea mostly in the mornings. I'm all glowing and s**t after I survive till noon every day.” I said, slowing down and watching the different ghastly expressions on my girls’ faces.

Danica was the most sensible of all of us. She knew how to give bad news but while being very emotionally intelligent. She walked over to me and sat next to me on the pink couch I loved so much.

“How long has this been going on for, Marilyn?” Barbs asked. She looked like a wet kitten as she walked over to sit on the other side of me on the couch. Her eyes were wide and lighter than usual as she stared pointedly at me, never even blinking.

Patty came closer too, while Azalea talked to us from the open kitchen window facing the sitting room. I knew something was wrong because they all looked scared.