Retro: Cut the Cord

Has Cleo cut the cord with Cadmus with Him? Time will tell, here is a retro post with the two of them.

 

Cleo looked over at Oscar as he slept beside her, her discarded fishnets under her on the bed. She was restless. Her eyes were damp, as well as her temples. The state between sleep and wake was the most truthful in her experience. The dream that she just had about Cadmus had not changed her experience at all.

She had been running from him in the dream—after they had made love. Cleo had made love to him from top to bottom with her mouth—his lips, his nipples, lower and lower until she reached his toes and then she ran away from him after she sucked his pinkie toe. Ashamed and sated, she hated herself for the feeling even still, woken up.

Cadmus had not been good for her. She broke up with him because they did nothing but fortify behaviors in each other that she did not want to enhance.

But she still missed him and loved him. It was obvious from her dream. If he called her in the middle of the night to talk to her, she would be there for him until she was watery-eyed and went to work a sleep-deprived mess. He needed to go over everything in his life with her, and she was too involved with him not to listen because she still cared about his every movement.

A notification flashed on her phone, she saw just the C and grabbed it because she wanted to know what he needed.

What he wanted.

You up?

Her eyes moved over Oscar, as she touch typed in reply to his text.

Yes—you okay?

I just wanted to run something past you…

She texted him about his newest quandary until she was exhausted and he finally texted he was falling asleep while texting her.

She lie on her side again looking at Oscar, and wondered if she really had anything to wonder about with him and Eliza, or was it because she knew that even while she was happy to be with Oscar she still had such strong residual for Cadmus? She and Cadmus were just friends now, but still, she had him in her life—needed him in her life.

She couldn’t cut the cord.

 

More Wicked Wednesday here:

 

Independence Day

Cleo needed her independence.

She went on another “adventure”–to find him.

She knew that she needed to see him again, because she was so heavy when she went to touch herself that she could barely bring herself to achieve pleasure because her labia was thick. She ached for him, and she was afraid he would know it when he touched her.

“He”—she did not even say his name in her head, she thought of him “Him,” like something reverent. She texted him, and he texted her what was she waiting for? 

He touched her like she touched ripe fruit. Between her legs heavy and wet, he caressed her until she groaned with her need and ache.

“What?” he asked, as he touched her like he was picking a mango or something. Cleo was wet and sticky to the top of her thighs. She leaned against him helplessly, and he did not stop touching her.

“You…know…what!” she was incoherent to herself, as he played with her even more. She had memorized his fingers, and he touched her like he had memorized her.

“You have to tell me, you keep coming to me but you never tell me. I need to hear what you want from me,” he semi-pleaded.
“I want you,” she said helplessly, and he stopped touching her. He took her face in his hands and she could smell herself on his fingers. He kissed her, and she nibbled his lips like she was ingesting them. So hungry she was his lips, his taste, his mouth that she did not even need him to make contact with her body in any other way but their lips.

Cadmus had asked her if she had enjoyed her adventure—this was not an adventure anymore. She wanted this man, needed him in a way she had never needed Cadmus and she did not need to want Cadmus that way.

What she felt as her lips throbbed–both sets–was something she was not expecting to feel, and she wanted to explore it as much as she could.

With Him.

 

More Wicked Wednesday here:

Nocturnal Adventure

“Did you enjoy your adventure?” Cadmus had texted her, but was now asking her in a dream.

Cleo nodded because what else was she supposed to do? He searched her face in that way he did like he could see her truth—or not.

“It was not an adventure, he was nice to me and it was nice with him.”

She looked down to avoid looking in his eyes, and he lifted her chin up to look into them.

“Nicer than with me?”

“Different Cad,” his nickname lingered on her tongue as a double entendre. “Why are you doing this? Why are you asking me about him when you—“

He kissed her, hard. His tongue would have slammed into hers if tongues were heavier, and she embraced him, hungry for his kiss and the feel of him close to her body.

She thought she was over him, but as soon as he kissed her she realized she was not. She still wanted him, and she clung to him desperately. That core deep inside her screamed for him to get there.

When she rolled over onto her stomach and woke up alone, Cleo clawed at the sheets wet with her tears and an orgasm that left her gasping.

The dream had been too real, it had been a nocturnal adventure that she had had since Cadmus had been so interested in the dream, and as soon as she looked at her phone she saw that he had texted her. Panting and swallowing, she looked at her glowing handheld device like an oracle to explain everything. 

 

More Wicked Wednesday here:

 

Surrender

It was supposed to be a one and done. It had been nice with him, Cleo knew his name because he had given her his card and it burned her fingers every time she touched it—because she remembered touching him. It was a souvenir in a way, like serial killers kept something of their victims, but of course this was not as sordid as that.

He was just a man she had had a one night stand with and that was that. But when she saw the jacket, and she saw the whisper of a tattoo that she knew. The line of a Pablo Neruda poem she had looked up because she had memorized that line after being in bed with him…she knew it was him.

To be honest, every time she saw a tattoo now she thought of him. Or maybe she wanted him again, she was being honest to herself now and this was not the pristine version for public consumption.

She wanted him.

She clutched her purse, and was about to get up. He would think she was a lady of leisure or something because he always found her sitting at a bar in the middle of the day. It was a habit that she had now to drink a glass of wine if she was so inclined in the middle of the afternoon like she had had with him. He had changed her, Cleo had to admit he had changed her. He had changed how she looked at things, and how she acted.

When he saw her, his expression was calm. No lift of the eyebrow, or quirk of his lips. He walked over to her, and took her hand.

Before he could say a word, before he could direct this narrative, Cleo took a sip of her wine and kissed him. Now she felt he was not expressionless, as he pulled her close. He kissed her and caressed her face, sucking on her lower lip as he cupped her breast.

“I missed you,” she said, biting her lower lip. 

“I gave you my card.”

“I was afraid.”

As soon as she said it, she realized she had been. She was not his type. The woman that he was trying to exorcise himself of was nothing like her. 

“Afraid that I would split you open?”

“I want that…”

He smiled, and she could see more of his tattoo as he did.

“I want you.”

Surrender had never been so sweet, as she finished the wine—one he had suggested in their first and only meeting—and followed him.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

Magic

He was not someone she ordinarily would have been attracted to, or someone she even would have met. 

Cleo had been stranded and there was nowhere else for her to occupy herself as a client had cancelled at last minute. Feeling the way that she had been at the time, she easily sat at the dive bar right at the barren midday bar. Since the only wine on the menu was a miniature bottle of a wine she did not like, she wanted to see if the bartender had Campari.

He was sitting diagonal from her and his acumen about wine left her breathless. Looking at him she would not have guessed that he was an expert. He was actually the sommelier for a restaurant nearby, and this was his favorite dive bar in the neighborhood.

He of course invited her to his restaurant and ordered their food—and of course their wine pairings. Cleo was intoxicated from the scent and taste of the wine, even before she was tipsy. Even after he had her just taste a few and spit it out.

Sitting close to her he smelled like leather and cigarette smoke, which was her ultimate masculine scent and even more intoxicating to her clouding her focus. He had random piercings—one she would not find out about until later that evening—and a tattoo peeking from under his leather jacket.

Wanting him had been dictated by time and place. If she had not been stood up by her client, she never would have met him. She would not be on her side now looking at him. He reached between his legs to cup himself. He told her it lulled him to sleep, and he did it while he was asleep unconsciously sometimes.

His tattoo in plain sight now, was a line from a Pablo Neruda poem, and she wondered who he was fucking out of his mind through fucking her? Hopefully fucking each other was enough of a form of magic to make their demons disappear…

More Wicked Wednesday here:

Canvas

There was nothing that she had read in any of her Women’s Studies books that would approve of what she was doing. But Cleo had needed to do what she had done. 

Clarissa her best friend in most of those classes was a staunch feminist, and would have been particularly appalled, but naked except for her leopard print matching bra and thong? Cleo was satiated and heavy, curled in a half fetal position on the strange bed.

She did not know the name of the man who had a towel about his waist and let her sleep in his bed. From the stickiness of drool she felt dried on her cheek, she supposed she had slept hard. She watched his reflection in the bathroom mirror shaving, and she felt herself throb inside from where he had entered her body.

She needed him, her nipples hardened and she threw the covers off of her and leaned naked against his bathroom door. He took his time with the process of his grooming, and she was completely absorbed until he spoke to her.

“Your nipples are hard,” he said, after a while of her watching him. 

“They are not alone…” 

He put down his aftershave, and touched himself. He touched himself, and she felt like he had touched her. She touched herself mirroring him, and he stalked her. The darkness in his eyes, and the darkness she knew he was capable enveloped her. That was what Cleo had wanted. Someone who was not Oscar or Cadmus. A man who like herself, just wanted to be covered in the night with another person. Someone who was a blank canvas albeit dark to paint with passion.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

 

The Truth

The truth was that she needed him.

Even after she knew that she and Cadmus were over, Cleo still needed him in her life. She did not talk to him as much as before, but they still talked a lot more now that things had calmed down. Oscar did not seem to mind as much that she was on the phone with him so often.

“I guess it is like me and Eliza,” he stated simply.

Cleo paused, wine glass in hand and her face filled with heat.

“You and Eliza?” she replied.

“We have been friends for such a long time, I cannot imagine my life without her.”

“So you dated her?” She said casually getting up to get more wine to distract herself.

He nodded she saw peripherally, and the truth that she had suspected made her skin burn like she wanted to tear it off of her. But she did not say anything to him. She had spent so much time lost in her own situation,  that she completely stopped paying attention to what was so clear.

She had not imagined that liaison between him and Eliza at Bibi’s birthday party. It had happened, and he had been smearing it all throughout their relationship. Eliza was always around.

Always, with her husband or not.

She grasped her wine glass so hard she broke it.

She wanted to break something, she wanted the pain to counter what she was feeling.

“Cleo?!”

She just looked at the blood trickling over her life and love lines on her palm. He wrapped her hand in a towel and she felt numb. Numb to his ministrations, and numb to everything around her. She needed to call Cadmus…

More Wicked Wednesday here:

 

Automatic

Zara could not keep her eyes off of the man across from her in the cafe. They had exchanged several looks at this point, and she was not opposed to making the first move but being mad at her boyfriend Cadmus…this guy had to make the first move.

He did.

It was a boost because part of the argument with Cadmus had been his not making her feel like she was desirable enough. This guy definitely found her desirable enough. When he approached her, she put her hand over his mouth and shook her head.

He looked perplexed, but he let her take his hand. The music in the cafe was soft and soothing, but the look in his eyes was anything but and she bit her lip with the excitement that she felt. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers even harder.

“l-“ he started.

She put her fingers on her lips and his.

He smiled.

There was no need to talk because then no promises could be made, nothing. Nothing could be broken.

Except vows never to be spoken.

She clutched his biceps, his muscles and the blur of a tattoo that she did not study because she did not want to remember enticed her nonetheless though this was not really happening.

She caressed his lips with her finger, but not with her mouth. It was mechanical the way that their bodies joined, but it did not matter. The pleasure was automatic too. Their bodies moved like machines that knew their position and motion. She needed the release and they worked perfectly together. He cradled her breasts and rubbed her clit, as they avoided looking at each other in the mirror of the cafe bathroom. The scent of gardenia mixed with sex, and Zara would never forget it.

It was over between her and Cadmus, but she was desirable.

She was filled with desire.

 

Filled with desire, Mathilde was not sure how to describe the sound that came from her as Cadmus cradled her breasts. She had mused in a cafe earlier, after she walked out of the hotel after their first major fight since getting back together. She remembered how she had handled it all those years ago but this time, this time she wanted to get past that and she wanted to work on it this time.

She did not want to lose him a second time.

 

More Masturbation Monday here:

Trilling

She wanted it rough, Oscar could give it to her anyway she liked it and she wanted it rough. It was what she needed to feel again.

Cleo knew how to entice him, she could persuade him with a few looks or the movement of her hips. She did not even really need to touch him to get him to do what she wanted, but she wanted to touch him. 

To taste him.

She opened her mouth to do just that, when he pulled her by the hair and made her look up at him. Her nipples were tight and wound up like explosives pointed and ready to get her off at any second.

“I need it rough, I need to feel you,” she purred, and he gave her what she wanted. Cleo curled on her side, her body resonant with the things he made her feel. He had bitten her nipples and labia, and they trilled with sensation still.

He had almost fucked her trip to Paris out of her, but then she thought about Cadmus and his new girlfriend again and she shook with renewed anger. She was still so upset at what had happened in the most romantic city in the world—where she had even been romantic with Cadmus.

Now it was cast with a dark shadow, and she would remember the love that was taken from her there. Her body still trilled with hunger, even after Oscar had made love to her just the way she wanted. But she was so confused, she did not know what she wanted as he held her in his arms and saw that she had a text from Cadmus.

Oscar’s arms tightened about her, and she knew he must have seen Cadmus’ name and face on her screen as he now tried to call her.

She did not reach for her phone physically but so many scenarios went through her mind that she might as well have.

“You need to get that?” Oscar asked.

Her answer was to snuggle more into him.

For now.

 

More Wicked Wednesday here:

 

Their New Normal

“Do you ever miss Cleo?” Mathilde looked at Cadmus, and saw his jaw tense.

“I know I gave you every reason not to trust me in the past, but you cannot keep asking me about Cleo.” he said, his face stern. 

“You paid for her to come to Paris while we were reconciling, I think I have every right to ask you about her? I know you were fucking her right before we met again, and you know I am not as rigid about that. If you still wanted her, you could still be with her.”

“And you?”

“Yeah,” she licked her lips nervously.

“Was there someone else for you because I want you. Unless you want to be with someone else? I only can be with one woman at a time.”

“Okay,” she said and continued to hold his hand.

“And that is you.”

Stopping in the middle of the park, Mathilde looked up at him, searching his eyes for a very long time. He let her, and there was barely any emotion on his face or in them. Like he was hoping she was placated.

“I just broke up with Cleo, there was some codependency stuff that we had and we fell into that. But she was with someone else, and she went back to him. And I want to be with you.”

Still searching his eyes, he looked at her still expressionless. And it was easy for her to fall into that role, and the way that he had made her feel in the past, it was tempting to act like she did not care again.

“I want to be with you, I always wanted to be with you…” she said instead not playing a role.

He caressed her shoulders, and kissed her lips so soft that she thought they melted. 

This was their new normal, trying to be honest. Trying to be together and not think about the past. Even when the past was still on his phone which she had not wanted to see, and he had not hid but if he told her that he wanted her that was what she wanted to believe. Under the shadow of a huge tree, his hand down the front of her pants made her labia feel like it was melting like her lips had from her heat and wetness.

This felt normal, it always had felt normal to her to have him. To have him touch her like this, to have him touch her, feel her hot and wet for him. It felt normal to fight with him, and not believe him but have him.

And to be his…

 

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