Hopper Collection: Bed Linens 

I think I had spent about twenty minutes, just daydreaming.  I thought
about  how he said that he'd start smoking his pipe again if he found
a decent tobacco.  I hadn't known he had a pipe, I hadn't known he had
smoked... tobacco anyway.  He said he wasn't going to drink or smoke
anymore.  So why was he keeping his pipe?

I needed to make the bed.  He always remembers to make the bed, but
this time he'd be the first one out of the flat.  He never understands
when I forget.  How could anyone forget to make the bed?  he asks.

I jumped when I heard a key turn in the lock.  He walked through the
door, I forgot something, he says.  He forgot something.  He stared at
me, you're not dressed.  Have you moved since I left?  I haven't moved
since he  stood up from the bed, lifting his trousers to his waist.  I
haven't moved since his pleasure erupted into  my mouth, my own need
soaking unsatisfied into the linen underneath me.  It wasn't just his
pleasure, I had volunteered.  I had told him I wanted this, too.  I
had understood there wasn't time for more.

What did you forget?  Do you want me to find it for you?  No, I can
find it.  Why don't you put some clothes on?  I stood up, feeling the
damp spot cool against the chill air.  I hadn't realized how cold it
was while I was sitting.  My breasts reacted almost painfully, but I
left my bathrobe where it lay.  I became aware that I needed to pee
and walked to the washroom.

You must really like walking around naked.  I'll get dressed in a
second.  Do you know where my pipe is?  I want to show it to
Michaelson.  I didn't even know you had a pipe.  I was talking about
it last night.  I mean before last night, I never knew you smoked a
pipe.  Well, help me look for it.  In a second, I have to pee.

The warm stream flowed reluctanctly against the resistance of my
arousal.  I heard him lean against the door frame, speaking again of
his pipe.  Yeah, I was telling Michaelson about yesterday.  It has a
carved ivory bowl, not one of those giant queer ones you see in the
movies, but there's a  carving of an elephant on it.  So you've got
yourself a white elephant.  Huh?  I don't get you.  ...Nevermind.  Are
you done in there yet?

He was standing right there when I opened the door.  He looked at me,
his eyes descending to the patch below my hips, a region wiped clean
of the 'morning dew' and any regrets.  Where did you last see it?
Huh?  Your pipe, when did you last see it?  I don't know, I haven't
smoked it since I was dating Jenette.  I walked over to the closet,
this was just a one room place, not too much room to store things.  I
bent over and opened an unmarked box.

Hey! what are you doing?  I'm looking for your pipe.  But not in that
box!  I looked in the box. There were a few photographs of women, worn
at the edges.  The photographs were worn, not the women.  The women
were wearing less than I.  So?  You have girly pictures, I don't care.
I put the box down and continued to search the closet.  I found
another box labelled Jenette.  I picked it up off the closet floor and
turned around.  I bet you the pipe's in here, do you want to open it
or should I?  Let me open it.  He took the box from my hand and turned
away.  I stood by wanting to walk up to him, but his back was hunched
like an animal over that box.  I was afraid.  He faced me again, the
pipe in his hand accompanied by a guilty smile.  See?  I knew it was
here somewhere.  She's a beauty, isn't she?  Yes, it's beautiful.

Yeah, Jenette loved the smell of it.  He looked at me again, at all of
me.  You know what else she loved?  I can imagine, I said.  It didn't
take  much of an imagination to know what his women liked.  I was no
different.  Let me show you.  I thought you didn't have time.  I'll
make time, this is incredible, you'll like it.  Before I could
respond, he was bent over the bed pulling the linens from the mattress
and tearing them with savage  efficiency.  Lie down, on the bed.  Hey,
I don't know if now is a good time for this sort of thing.  C'mon, you
won't regret it, I promise.  He never promises anything.  He walked
from the bed and lifted me over his shoulder.  I'm not taking no for
an answer.  I can see that.

Torn strips cut into my wrists and ankles.  I wasn't sure if I was
trembling from the cold or fear.  Damn, it was cold and my back ached
all of a sudden.  He'd pay for a telephone in stupid one room flat and
not buy coal for the stove.  Who does he have to call?  When he
dropped his trousers for the second time that morning, his erection
stood defiant of the cold.  He wanted this.  He kneeled between my
legs and tried to pull my hips toward him.  I winced as the bindings
jerked at my arms and shoulders.  I was unable to bend my knees or
adjust in anyway to his movements.  If he thrusted into my unwilling
passage, my feet were yanked and burned from the friction.  If he
withdrew, I had only a momentary release.  I tried to ignore my
extremities, and take what enjoyment I could from his penetration.  I
had to admit that the fear heightened the tension.  I felt the climax
build quickly, and a semblance of arousal lubricated my searing,
bruised flesh.  He acknowledged my apparent ecstacy by redoubling his
pace.

I began to shudder, but it did not feel like a release but resembled
more a shudder of terror.  I stared frantically into the face of my
lover, trying desperately to connect with the man I knew, but I could
not find him.  He soon reached his climax and spilled himself within
me.  After he caught his breath, he fulled himself from me out of
habit.  He was still standing proud in the bitter air.  Hey, whadya
know?  Are you ready for another round?  Honey, really, I think that's
enough, don't you?

I heard the slap ringing in my ears before I felt the biting sting.
Shut up, bitch.  Jenette never talked back, she knew how to behave.
You've still got a lot to learn.  Let me show you another trick.  I
felt the firm rounded flesh press against that other place.  His hands
pried the cheeks apart to gain better access.  I felt my face crumple
into a sob, a thick, wet sound escaped my lips.

The phone rang.

That stupid, useless, expensive, glorious phone was ringing.

Damnit, that's probably my boss.  I should have never told my boss my
number.  I'm not going to answer it, if you pick it up, tell him I
already left.  Uh, lover?  I can't answer the phone like this.  My
voice was breathy from trying to keep the tears from being heard.  Oh,
yeah.  I should probably keep you like that all day for when I get
home, huh?  He pulled out a pen knife and I cried out as he slipped it
between the bindings and my wrist.  It was very sharp and as he
released me, it cut  a fine line in the top layer of skin below the
thumb.  It didn't draw any blood, it was like a very mild paper cut.
He dropped the open knife on my stomach.

You can finish the rest, I have to run.  See you tonight, doll.

I sawed myself free, not nearly the master of a knife that my lover
was.  I pulled my house dress over my head and threw my overcoat on
the bed.  I  stuffed the box labelled Jenette, the torn sheets, as
well as the pipe he left behind into the coal stove.  He was so proud
of that pipe.   I fit every last space in that stove with coal and
kindling.  I don't believe in being cheap with coal if you have the
money.  I wasn't too careful I'm afraid, some of the stips of bed
linen were sticking out.  I struck the long match and lit the
kindling.  I made sure the fire took.  I wasn't sure if ivory would
burn.  I don't know much about ivory, I hear it's from Africa.  I put
on my overcoat and took a little money with me.  I suppose I shouldn't
have left with the fire going.  It's dangerous.  It could burn the
place down if you're not careful.