Wild Fiction

She lay awake struggling to sleep but did not move. She could hear and feel Conrad tossing and turning next to her. A sense of guilt surged through her. She no longer felt the desire for him that she had felt days before. The passion and the love she felt for him had disappeared. She could not explain where it had gone or what had replaced it. She felt very confused and very alone. She had feelings that she could not explain, did not want to explain, and did not want to discuss.
Eventually she fell asleep, but it was not a restful sleep.

Chapter 55

Genevieve showered and scrubbed herself for 45 minutes. Once dry she filled the palms of her hands with Clarins Body Moisturiser and rubbed it into every part of her body that she could reach. She examined her neck in the mirror and the red line around it where the wire noose had pulled tight. She ran her finger delicately along the line feeling the raised ridge the death necklace had made.
The silk sheets caressed her skin as she slid between them and into bed. She hated wearing anything in bed. She wanted nothing between her skin and the soft silk of the sheets. Not even a silk nightie or silk underwear. Nothing could dampen the hedonistic pleasure her skin received from Thai silk. She sunk into the waves of softness and settled down to go to sleep.
She felt the author’s arm creep over her naked hip. His fingers moved to her stomach, searched around her navel, and then wandered up towards her breasts. She could feel him pull himself nearer and could feel his erection between the cheeks of her buttocks. She stiffened and moved her arms over her breast to prevent him from touching them.
‘No,’ she said.
He ignored her and moved his hand down to between her legs. She wriggled around and tried to push his arms away.
‘I said no,’ she said gripping his wrists and holding his arms away.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘I don’t feel like it. I’ve had a hideous day and the last thing I feel like is sex.’
‘Sex will help you relax and make you feel better. You know it always does.’
‘Not this time. Something about me has changed. I can’t pin down what it is but the very thought of sex makes me feel nauseous.’
‘Don’t be like that,’ the author said sliding his arms around her again.
‘No,’ she yelled.
He pulled his hands back, as if electrocuted.