 “No man will ever want you, you ugly cow.” Richard held Cooper down with a knee in her spine, her right arm twisted painfully behind her back. Just taking a breath was difficult. “Do you understand me, you fat slob?” She had learned a long time ago not to talk back to him. Any conceived challenge was instantly met with vicious retaliation. “Yes sir, I understand. Nobody wants me.” Tears flowed down her cheeks in silent sorrow. “Did you or did you not speak to Clyde Fisher at the drug store today?” A hard jerk on her hair caused her neck to pop and sent a sharp pain cascading through her shoulders. “Yes sir, I asked him about his daughter. I had heard she had a baby.” A whispered answer was all she was allowed. She swore, one day she would rip his measly balls out of their dried up sac. “Ted saw you flirting with Fisher. He couldn’t wait to call me and embarrass me. If you want to suck somebody’s dick, why didn’t you say so?” How was she supposed to answer that? “Richard, I didn’t do anything that could be construed as flirting. I didn’t offer to give him oral sex, I promise.” Like she would know how. Richard’s penis and testicles were so shrunk by steroids they were practically useless. The same drug had fried his brain, so there was no use trying to argue with him. “How could I believe anything you say? You’re a liar; a big fat liar.” As he hissed the last few words, he pulled back hard on her arm and she felt the bone leave the socket in a flash of white-hot agony. With a jerk, Cooper woke up drenched in sweat. When would she ever be free of these nightmares? It had been almost two years since her husband had went missing in the wilderness near the Rio Grande River; he was presumed dead and Cooper couldn’t have been happier. If anyone deserved to die, it was Richard Hawkins. She got up and turned the oscillating fan on full blast. She was wet with sweat, born of simple fear. Throwing herself back on the bed, she tried to focus on something more pleasant. Perhaps she should try the exercise again. Feeling like a fool, Cooper Lawson lay on her lonely bed and began to tentatively touch herself between the legs. She could do this. She knew she could. Gingerly, her fingers moved up and down her private area. After a few half-hearted swipes, Cooper finally admitted two layers of cotton might be dulling the sensation. Trying to relax, she took a series of deep breaths. Logically, she ran through a series of facts designed to put her at ease. The lights were turned down, the door was locked, and there was no reason to be afraid. “Might as well slip into something more comfortable,” she mumbled out loud then laughed. “Lord, I am so pitiful. I’m a nervous wreck, and the only person I’m trying to seduce is myself.” The sound of her voice echoed dully against the rough log walls. Talking to herself was a habit she had valiantly attempted to avoid. Tonight, however, was a totally different set of circumstances. She was entering virgin territory, and she needed all the support she could muster. “Virgin territory, how apropos, Cooper.” Even though she had been married for almost three years, technically, she was still a virgin. That was probably one for the record books. There hadn’t been too many normal things about her marriage, but when your spouse is a madman, you couldn’t expect things to be run of the mill. Focusing on the play of shadows on the curtains, she pulled up her gown and pulled down her plain, white panties. Smiling at the predicament she found herself in, Cooper mentally squared her shoulders and forged ahead. “This is going to feel fabulous. It will probably become a habit. I’ll get addicted to masturbation, go half-blind, and have to buy spectacles.” Another bout of giggles reverberated around the small room—at least she could laugh. Over the past few weeks, she had begun to make peace with herself. It was past time to take charge of her life and put all the pain and mistakes to rest. She had a new home, a new job and maybe one day soon, she would have some friends. Tonight, she would embark upon a new adventure—a sex life—of sorts. Dr. Horton, her therapist, had given her this chore as a homework assignment. “Masturbation for extra credit, yeah right.” She had not attempted to pleasure herself in years; it had rarely crossed her mind. Before Richard, she had been so brain-washed by the Southern Baptist mentality; she had herself convinced just thinking about masturbation was a sin. Cooper had gotten over worrying about sin. No matter how many prayers she offered up, God had not chosen to protect her from Richard’s cruel fists. So Cooper had given up on the idea of making God happy, one way or the other. Finding her clitoris, Coop made a swirling motion with the pads of her fingers. The small, hard knot of nerves was surprised at the attention. Instead of poking its shy head out of its little hood, it drew up tighter than a turtle in its shell. Still, it felt pretty good. In fact, she found the act somewhat comforting, and it made her feel a bit drowsy. Stifling another giggle, Cooper realized she was so exciting, she was about to put herself to sleep. Catatonia was not exactly the response she was hoping to achieve. Remembering the instructions she had poured over this afternoon, she wiggled in the bed and made a nest for herself under the covers. Spreading her legs wider, she brought her knees up so she could slide her fingers up and down her slit. Cooper wondered if Richard had managed to kill her sexuality. Moisture pooled behind her eyelids instead of inside her vulva. Forcing her attention back to the slightly unpleasant task, she reminded herself that even though her late husband tried to destroy her hopes and dreams, he had not been successful in destroying her. Moving her hips up and down, she tried to simulate the movement she would make if a lover were pumping his cock in and out of her vagina. Of course, the lover was faceless and safe. The only qualifications he had to meet were that he be kind, gentle, and interested in giving her pleasure, not pain. After a few tense moments of awkward stimulation, she paused again to evaluate the sensations coming from her pursuit of hedonism. Nada. Nothing. Less than nothing. Biting her lower lip, she exhaled a long breath and decided to give it one more shot. With a tad more pressure, she manipulated the place that, supposedly, could give her relief. Crap, you couldn’t prove it by her. Concentrating, with a near comical frown on her face she rubbed and rocked, seeking the elusive climax. Again, not a dang thing. Pressing her free hand over her eyes, she huffed in frustration. Everything she had ever read told her an orgasm was one of the great stress relievers in life. Boy, could she do with a little less stress. The whole week had been tense. Aw hell, who was she trying to kid? The last four years had been enough to send her around the bend. Face it, everything about this stupid exercise had been nerve racking. Cooper had practically broke into hives at the local bookstore when the cheeky little clerk had smirked at her choice of ‘Self-Love, a Woman’s Guide to Masturbation.’ Desperation had given her just enough backbone to stand there and brave the pitying looks and the rude comments. She had nearly died when the sales woman had suggested that maybe she should look into a Jenny Craig membership instead of buying a book. At the snide remark, Cooper had merely smiled and stared at the floor. She wasn’t about to try and explain to the ultra-skinny salesperson she had no intention of attempting to snare a flesh and blood man to take care of her needs. The self-help book epitomized the totality of her future sexual endeavors. Sadly, Cooper had thought she looked nice in the new outfit she had worn to the mall. Her full, dark hair was having a fair-to-middling day, and she had put on just enough makeup to make her nut-brown eyes shine with what would pass for excitement. Sure, as always, her hips and breasts were excessively generous, but overall, she wouldn’t send small children screaming to their mothers. Regardless, the thoughtless words from the bookstore employee had sucked all the joy out of the day, and had almost reduced her to tears. Why people felt the need to point out another person’s shortcomings was a mystery to Cooper. She would never dream of embarrassing a person in that way. Unfortunately, she was used to it. Richard had never let an opportunity go by to belittle or demean her, and neither had his friends. It had become a sport to them. Back to the job at hand—ugh. Shoving her white eyelet gown down, she decided to attempt another strategy the masturbation guidebook had suggested. Fantasizing—something she had not done in years. Usually, her nights had been spent hoping to avoid a painful confrontation with her husband, not dreaming of intimate circumstances with anyone else. Now she was about to try. Could she do it? Going back in time, she tried to recall what she had once hoped for her love life. Well, for starters, the man in question would want her. Just her. Cooper Lawson. His arms would be a haven and his touch would be gentle. He would draw her close and she would feel desired and precious. A big, but kind hand would smooth down her back and nudge her closer, and she would allow her own fingers to glide up his hard shoulders and around his neck. His heat would tempt her to lean up and press a sweet kiss to his throat. Yeah, she could picture this. Despite her best efforts to keep her lover anonymous, a face began to take form in her mind’s eye. It was her neighbor, her drop-dead, gorgeous neighbor. She had no idea what his first name was, but his mailbox said K. Landon. Over the past few weeks, she couldn’t help but notice him and his great body. She might be emotionally scarred and physically unappealing, but she wasn’t blind. The neighbor in question had a habit of working outdoors—sans shirt, naturally—and she had been fortunate enough to drive by a few times when he had been outside. Everything about him appealed to her. She liked the way he walked and she liked the way he would kneel down and pet his dog. Heck, she even liked the way he wiped the sweat off his brow with his muscular forearm. As long as he was in his yard and she was twenty feet away in her car, behind a heavily tinted windshield, she could indulge in the absolute pleasure of just looking at him and wishing things could be different. Cooper knew she would never have the privilege of touching him, but, well, looking didn’t cost a dime. And she had been looking. In fact, she had been looking so closely she had run her car off the road twice, mesmerized by the mere sight of him. So what would it hurt to use a mental picture of him to jump-start her frozen libido? Here goes. In her imagination, she held Mr. Landon close and let him touch her any way he wanted. Concentrating on these memories and fantasies, Cooper placed her palms over her own breasts and began to rub. How she wished she were a little bit smaller up top. Her palms were not big enough to completely cover the over-abundant mounds. Udders were what Richard had called her breasts. He had made her so paranoid about her body she had resorted to wearing sack dresses and other clothes two or three sizes too big, just so her real shape would be less noticeable. Her fingers stilled as she recalled the unpleasant memories, but she forced the images aside, replacing Richard’s countenance with her neighbor’s face. This was safe. It wasn’t real. Not only would he never hurt her. He would never judge her, either. Dr. Horton applauded her admission that the verbal abuse she had endured had actually hurt more than the physical abuse. Broken bones healed faster than a wounded spirit ever could. Therefore, dreaming was safe. What would it be like to kiss him? Wetting her mouth with her tongue, she pretended her lips were brushing over his chest. She thought about moving her kiss up over his jaw line, which would be rough with a day’s growth of beard. All the while, she played with her nipples and considered how wonderful it would be to have a man touch her there, pulling on them gently with his lips. A tingle began deep within her; an ache that made her spread her legs even wider, seeking a tender fulfillment. With one hand, she continued to massage her breasts. She kneaded her nipples, teasing them with a variation of pressure–rubbing and squeezing. It felt good, better than she had ever imagined. With the other hand, she parted her folds, slipped one finger deep inside her, and pushed. Rhythmically, Cooper slid her finger in and out of her vagina. The tingle spread. Her breath hitched in her throat. Giving in to an urge to lift her hips, she continued to pleasure herself. Never had she felt so empty. Never had she so longed to be filled. His hand would be bigger than hers is, his touch would be more insistent. K. Landon would have no problem making her come. Wait…wait…almost…almost…maybe…No. It was gone. Cooper let out a frustrated breath. So close. Damn! It was no use. She needed help. She needed a lot of help. Help that even her therapist could not provide. Moreover, since she wasn’t about to actually ask her hot, hunky neighbor to assist her in achieving orgasm, it was time to invest in something much more practical. Throwing back the covers, she resolutely climbed from the bed. The house was so quiet. She padded over to the desk to use the laptop. Every step she took echoed through the thick silence. Folding her long legs under her, she sat with chin in hand, considering what she was about to do. It was a drastic step for Cooper. Hopefully, the item she was about to order would be delivered in plain, brown paper wrapping. If anyone discovered the nature of her purchase, she would curl up and die. A sex toy, of all things! Growing up, she had never understood what people meant by the phrase, ‘the silence is deafening’. Now she knew. Even the noise the computer made while booting up was welcome. It had been three months since she had arrived in Redland, and during that time, not another living soul had entered her little house. Since Richard had disappeared, she had made her escape from Riverbend and had been moving around, afraid his brother or one of the others would try to bring her back home. So far, no one had bothered her. Maybe. There was the odd rattling of the front door knob the other night, and then when she misplaced her keys after she returned from the post office. She wasn’t like that; she didn’t just lose things or misplace items. Cooper tried not to let her imagination run away with her. She had been through a whole hell of a lot, maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Glancing around at the small cabin, she wanted so badly to feel safe. Lisa’s loan of her grandfather’s hunting cabin had been a godsend. It was located in the midst of the East Texas backwoods. Surely, no one would ever think of looking for her here. There was a bright side, she reminded herself. Dr. Horton always said to look for the bright side. Now, she didn’t have to lay awake and dread hearing the front door open, listen to heavy boots coming down the hall, knowing she was about to be jerked out of the bed and beaten senseless. Yes, considering she didn’t have to be terrified of Richard anymore, enduring a little loneliness was no big deal. Some people say you can’t miss what you’ve never had, but Cooper was proving them wrong. Cooper missed intimacy with a man. She missed being held. At twenty-three, she had seldom been touched with anything that resembled kindness. Four long years of isolation and misery. The emergency room visits hadn’t even counted, because the doctor and nurses at the small county hospital who treated her injuries, had been in Richard’s back pocket. Her body was so conditioned to anticipate violence; that being touched by anyone, now, was going to be a problem. If things had been different, would she have enjoyed sex? Of course, she was ill equipped for it; but there were women who looked as she did, and they seemed to have fulfilling sex lives. And she would, too. Soon. Just not with a man. Not yet, anyway. Someday, Dr. Horton assured her, she would meet a man who could care about her. Dr. Horton told her she was a ‘lovely person’. Nevertheless, dear Dr. Horton was getting old and his eyesight was failing. Still, what he said sounded good. To find someone who could look past her flaws and see the woman who had so much love to give—that was a dream worth having. Someday. But for now, what she needed was a dildo. Continues... |
