Sunday, January 15, 2006
I feel the truck slow down and open my eyes. We've pulled off the freeway and are at a gas station.
You look over at me as I start to sit up and say, "Not yet, Slut. This is just a gas stop. I'll let you know when it is time to wake up."
I lie back down and close my eyes, hoping that there will be no cars next to us but knowing better than to try to cover myself. I'll just keep my eyes closed, and hope that nobody taps on the glass while you're off doing whatever it is you need to do.
I turn my face toward the driver's seat, and close my eyes. It is still very warm inside the truck, and I can hear you putting in the gas, so I know I'm not alone. I find myself starting to drift off again when the door opens and a rush of cold air comes in.
Then I feel something wet on my chest. I look up, and you're leaning over me with a paper towel in your hand. You start wiping my chest again, and tell me that I've been good enough that it is time for the word "BAD" to come off. But you'll put it right back on if I misbehave. It is more difficult than you had thought to get the lipstick off, and you wind up scrubbing away a good portion of the top layer of my skin while you're trying to clean me up.
I don't say it, but I'm thinking "God, that hurts." You can see it on my face, though, and you praise me for keeping quiet and not complaining. (As though I would...)
When you've finished, you ask me to look and see what is left. The first word is gone, but that just makes the word "SLUT" stand out even more.
"Sit up for a minute," you command. I comply, and you hand me a cup. "Drink some of it." I start to take a sip, when out of the corner of my eye I see a man standing next to the truck. "Don't pay any attention to him, just drink up." I do, and it is really bitter coffee. I make a face, and you laugh. "You've been coughing. I think you need to wet your throat before we start again. So drink."
I get about half the cup down, when you take it from me and tell me that I've done well, considering, and that I should try to get back to sleep. I lie back and listen as you start the truck. I manage to stay awake long enough to feel you speed up to merge onto the freeway, and then I fall asleep once more.
You look over at me as I start to sit up and say, "Not yet, Slut. This is just a gas stop. I'll let you know when it is time to wake up."
I lie back down and close my eyes, hoping that there will be no cars next to us but knowing better than to try to cover myself. I'll just keep my eyes closed, and hope that nobody taps on the glass while you're off doing whatever it is you need to do.
I turn my face toward the driver's seat, and close my eyes. It is still very warm inside the truck, and I can hear you putting in the gas, so I know I'm not alone. I find myself starting to drift off again when the door opens and a rush of cold air comes in.
Then I feel something wet on my chest. I look up, and you're leaning over me with a paper towel in your hand. You start wiping my chest again, and tell me that I've been good enough that it is time for the word "BAD" to come off. But you'll put it right back on if I misbehave. It is more difficult than you had thought to get the lipstick off, and you wind up scrubbing away a good portion of the top layer of my skin while you're trying to clean me up.
I don't say it, but I'm thinking "God, that hurts." You can see it on my face, though, and you praise me for keeping quiet and not complaining. (As though I would...)
When you've finished, you ask me to look and see what is left. The first word is gone, but that just makes the word "SLUT" stand out even more.
"Sit up for a minute," you command. I comply, and you hand me a cup. "Drink some of it." I start to take a sip, when out of the corner of my eye I see a man standing next to the truck. "Don't pay any attention to him, just drink up." I do, and it is really bitter coffee. I make a face, and you laugh. "You've been coughing. I think you need to wet your throat before we start again. So drink."
I get about half the cup down, when you take it from me and tell me that I've done well, considering, and that I should try to get back to sleep. I lie back and listen as you start the truck. I manage to stay awake long enough to feel you speed up to merge onto the freeway, and then I fall asleep once more.
