Brandy's Postcard Stories (postcardbrandy) wrote,
Brandy's Postcard Stories
postcardbrandy

  • Mood:

Scarred

She could feel my body, but I could not feel her touch. The operation rendered me numb, but I knew neither of us was deriving any pleasure out of this session. But I paid for it, so I could imagine my money’s worth: how good my newborn scars felt in her hands, the ropey pink flesh relenting to her persistence—she was my healer, my Jesus, and her pleasure ego was enjoying this small miracle. “Hummm...” The air around us kept us packed together, a vibrating bubble for the allotted 45 minutes. I forgot her and my body, and somehow I slipped into a memory of 25 years ago, in the country, cursing time and my existence as a child...Then she touched me there, where the feeling had not died, and I remembered where I was.
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