Wicked Wednesday #180 — Virgin(ity)

Eliza felt as vulnerable as she had felt when she was freshly sleeping with Rafe. She was more vulnerable than when she had been a virgin, because they shared things that she had never shared with anyone else. And when they were new lovers, Sandrine had had an episode like this. When he told her that he was going to be exclusive with her, Sandrine had thrown a fit like this.

Because she did not want to let go.

Eliza was unmoved by the deja vu of the situation. She knew that Rafe would not have called her there to have a scene with Sandrine.

A small smile filled her face. In her heart of hearts, Eliza believed that she and Rafe were solid this time.

At least she really wanted to believe they were and even though her stomach churned, she wanted to believe it.

She went over to him.

“Sandrine, I promise I know it hurts, but you have to let him go. You have to let him go…he is mine,” Eliza remembered saying to Sandrine so many years ago, when she was the one that was chosen.

Sandrine turned to stare at her at that time, and they mirrored each other’s youth and being in love with Rafe .

Now, Sandrine turned as if she felt her standing close to her. She stared at Eliza as if she was seeing her for the first time. They had not been near each other since the affair started, since she had broken the engagement…since they had reunited…

Sandrine stared through her, and Eliza did not blink.

Rafe had been hers forever, their  marriage was a formality. He was hers. Sandrine had to understand that. This time Eliza was okay if they were not friends, because Sandrine needed to know he was hers.

Sandrine dug her nails into Rafe’s bare skin before she walked away. Eliza watched her, and noticed a pressed rose on the stairs leading to the restaurant.

Rafe stared at Eliza, shoved his hands in his pockets.

Eliza grabbed his upper arms, pressed her cheek to his chest and clung to him the way that Sandrine had. The desperation she felt was like that of a young virgin about to be taken for the first time. She needed him close, she did not want to know what had just happened.

She looked up at him, and he stared down at her. He pulled her close with one arm, and Eliza pressed her face to the warmth of his chest.

Because there did not need to be words. She did not want to talk about it anymore, she wanted to trust him. They were not going to be able to exist without trust and it was hard as hell for her, but she was going to trust him.

He kissed her throbbing temple, and she looked down fixing her gaze on the pressed rose.

There did not need to be words in his arms.

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pressed rose photo by f dot leonora