Harp Un-strung

“Tell them that their darling daughter is staying at a friend’s house for a school project. She’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Good BYE!”

Sarcasm drips from every word, and it is the first time I’ve seen Claire losing her cool. I make a quiet mental note to not piss her off in the future. I hear the chair being pulled as she sits down at the kitchen island behind me.

“Sorry for that,” she says quietly.

“It’s okay.”

She says nothing, until she notices the weird thing about my entire house for the first time.

“You cook?” she asks incredulously.

“Yep,” I say convincingly. “Chef Mike has an experience of more than two years.”

“Wow…that smells nice,” she says. “I couldn’t cook worth a damn even if my life depended on it.”

“It’s not that hard. You’re a fast learner, so you’ll have no problem,” I reply. “I hope you like this. You aren’t a vegetarian, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

Thank God.

I pour the broth into a ceramic bowl, a new culinary piece I had taken out especially for her, and lump the vegetables and meat into it. I’m being careful not to add too much of anything, lest she feels sick later on.

“Tell me what you think about it,” I say, serving the bowl and spoon in front of her. A small smile plays on her lips as she takes a tentative sip. I sit down opposite to her and hold my breath in anticipation.

Please don’t puke, please don’t puke…

“You’re a really good cook!” she exclaims, and takes a larger sip.

“Really?” It feels good to have your cooking skills praised by someone other than your own taste buds, especially someone like Claire.

“It’s the best thing I’ve had in a while!”

“Thanks.”

My heart is busy doing summersaults of joy. I barely eat half of my portion, when she finishes and asks sheepishly for a second helping.

“I get hungry when I’m upset,” she says softly, as if she’s ashamed to admit it.

For the first time, it gives me a glimpse to the vulnerable girl inside her. The façade she keeps up slides away, showing me her natural, unprotected self. A stereotyped girl, so eager to prove her worth that she forgets what she wants for herself.

“Please, don’t be shy,” I urge her.

~ A Lonely Night ~

“These are my sister’s pajamas,” Mike says, handing me over the light blue silk-cotton clothes. “It should fit you. You’ll find towels and her toiletries in her bathroom.”

I hate being a burden, but I had to bunk away from home at any cost, and Mike happened to be the only one who seemed reliable. I can’t even trust my own social circle at times like these.

“They’re great. Thank you so much.”

He shrugs it off nonchalantly. “And if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. I’m in the next bedroom.”

“I will, thanks again for putting me up.”

“No problem. Besides, you’re my partner now,” he says with a smile. “You change and go to sleep, while I take care of a few things.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Good night, Mike.”

“Good night, Claire.”

With that, he turns and heads down the stairs. I close the door behind me and breathe a sigh of relief.

Where would I be without him?

My parents pop out of nowhere and are back in their house after like three months.

I don’t know why they even bother with this town. After all the happy moments I spent with Claudine and Mike today, I’d be highly tempted to kill myself if I had to see them. I couldn’t face them today for the life of me.

I’m overreacting…but I can’t help it.

I drove half a mile or so, when Griffith, my caretaker, called and warned me of my parents’ arrival. Usually he warns me the day before their arrival, and I stay at the Griffiths’ cottage inside the mansion grounds. But there was no way my parents wouldn’t notice me entering the gates.

He sounded worried as I hadn’t called back in a while. Usually, I don’t venture outside the house, so I could understand his anxiety. I told Griffith I’d find a place to bunk for the night to allay his fears.

Truth was I didn’t know where to go.

Mike’s house was the only place I could think of at that moment. It was a split second decision. I trusted my instincts and turned back in the direction of his house.

I realized I was alone. There was not one single soul in the entire town that I could trust, except a mere acquaintance, whom I called partner. The truth stung, more than it should have. Tears welled up but I somehow steeled myself before I knocked his door.

I almost broke down with relief when he agreed. His eyes, they were sympathetic and kind, as if he understood what I was going through. He was more than just an understanding friend to me. He didn’t even bother telling his parents. Not a single phone call or anything. He let me in just like that.

At that moment, I just wanted him to hold me close to himself and tell me everything would be okay.

I just wish I had had the courage to ask.

I take in the room. It’s a little bit smaller than mine, but spacious nonetheless. Stripping down naked, I enter the adjoining bathroom. Adjusting the knobs, I enter the warm shower and let the powerful jets cleanse my body.

I can’t sleep at night. Too many things rattle around inside my head for me to relax. Everything – ranging from school politics to my more recent academic status – makes a guest appearance during those forlorn times.

I take a sleeping pill. No, not the entire tablet. Just a small part of its many pieces when it becomes impossible to close my eyes. Joyce threw out the entire stock the last time she was here. She knows that I still take it, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

I swear to get over it, but who am I kidding?

The cleansing shower helps to calm me down. Some breathing techniques calm me down by another notch, but I don’t know if I can make it through. I quickly discard the idea of calling my cousin. Disturbing her like this would leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Drying up myself, I quietly slip on the borrowed pajamas and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if sleep will take over.

The sound is faint, like a barely audible whisper far away, but it is enough to wake me up. I sit up and look around in panic.

No one.

It comes again, outside my door.

Thieves?

I certainly hope not.

I forgo the slippers and pad barefoot to the door, and listen carefully. Apart from the erratic pound of my beating heart, there is nothing.

It comes again, loud and clear.

Opening the door quickly, I peer outside. The dark, empty corridor stares back at me as I try to figure out what is happening. Apart from a single low-powered bulb lighting the hallway, there’s no one. It seems to be coming from the direction of his room.

Is Mike jacking off? The sounds are somewhere between a mumble and a loud moan, and I’m unsure of what to do. Something furry brushes past my feet and I’m barely able to hold back my abject scream of terror. I clamp my mouth shut and look down in panic.

It’s a dog, a golden retriever. I can barely make out its shape as he muzzles my feet and sits down in front of me. It’s big, brown eyes look hopefully at me, as if he’s asking me to do something for him. He pads up to Mike’s door and scratches the doorknob with his paws.

“I shouldn’t go in there,” I whisper. “It’s probably locked from the inside.”

He looks at me again and claws at the doorknob. Taking a hard swallow, I approach the dark mahogany door, and hold the doorknob.

“If anything goes wrong, it’s your fault,” I whisper, and he reassures me with a small woof. Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob and open the door.

Mike’s lying on his back half-naked, wearing only cotton pajama trousers. He twists and turns, and despite the cool temperature of the room, he’s sweating. I can’t help but notice his well-defined torso, lean muscles and yummy abs.

Okay, girl, you’re not here to check him out, I scold myself.

The dog nudges me with his nose, and I walk up to his bed. This feels like a suicide mission. What am I even doing here? Should I wake him up and request him to mumble quietly?

He moans something incoherent again, as if he’s in great pain. I sit down next to him and gently place a hand on his forehead. He visibly calms down as I stroke his forehead and after a few moments, he falls back into sleep. I can still see his eyes moving haphazardly underneath his eyelids.

I would’ve balked at the prospect of doing something this, but his light contented smile makes it worthwhile. I run my fingers through his hair until I’m sure he won’t wake up anytime soon. The dog leaps up onto the bed without making any noise, and lies down close to his feet.

Now what?

The bedside clock blinks 1:26 AM, and there’s no way I could get a wink of sleep after this drama. Should I go back to my room now?

I’ll be alone anyway.

I lie down on the bed beside him, making sure to keep a respectable distance between us. Slowly, I turn sideways, take his arm and hold on to it. I feel a better this way…with someone beside me, even though I barely know him.

After a few moments, he turns in his sleep. I watch with trepidation as he faces me. Still asleep, he gently drapes a protective arm over me. I take in the unconscious invitation and snuggle closer to him.

It has been a long time since I felt something like this.

Safe, warm…and loved.

The soft rays of early morning sun wake me up, their warmth lingering gently on my face. I smile contentedly, feeling unusually refreshed and rejuvenated. Taking in a deep breath, I exhale quietly.

I have never felt so good.

I slept like a baby. A night of sleep without those knockout pills is certainly a much better experience. The memory of last night feels like an ethereal dream, one that I would be hard-pressed to believe. Yet here I am.

My contented smile freezes when I realize that I’m in bed with someone else. He’s spooning me, his hands snug, yet firmly planted, on my boobs. His warm breath washes over my neck, making the tiny hairs stand with every breath he takes.

I feel an embarrassing blush creep onto my cheeks as my predicament dawns over me. His hands, one over me and one underneath, hold me firmly against his chest. His penis, that rock hard thing poking my ass is definitely his boner, is another distraction that rubs me the dirty way.

My traitorous nipples are straining to return his touch, eager for more stimulation. The sharp tingles go straight to my head, and I can barely muffle the subsequent moan. Every little move, every little twitch makes things worse.

I’m trapped.

My haywire thought finally poops out one ultimate solution – it’s impossible without waking him up. If he wakes up, he’ll definitely ask questions to which I have no answers.

And my wingman from last night, the dog, is now MIA.

He shifts. His palms graze against my sensitive nubs. I clasp my jaws shut and breathe hard as the small jolts of pleasure wrack me again.

Erotic torture at its best.

My relationship with Jim was limited to occasional blowjobs. I have masturbated in the privacy of my room before, so I’m not unfamiliar with these…feelings. But my body has never felt the touch of another man. This is an entirely new thing, like discovering new shortcuts to heaven.

I try hard to silence my lewd moans as he carries on his gentle rubbing and dry humping. My legs quiver, my stomach flutter and my insides shake as I feel an orgasm approaching.

Oh shit…

Just when I’m about to have a small, mind numbing, toe-curling orgasm, he wakes up.

My body stiffens up with shock as he takes a deep breath and snuggles up even closer, squeezing my tits and almost making me cry. After a few moments, he goes rigid as realization strikes his befuddled mind.

“Claire…?” he whispers.

It’s a moment of crystal clarity, a flash of brilliance that tells me what to do next.

I pretend to be unconscious, snapping my eyes shut, seemingly fast asleep. He takes an audible gulp as he analyzes his situation. His grip on my breasts slackens next as he realizes he is giving me an unintentional groping.

I can almost hear my nipples scream in protest.

“Oh shit!” he says, echoing my thoughts.

I had taken a few liberties with his hands, using my own on top of his to maximize the friction. I thought it would be better getting off and relieve the brewing tension by having an orgasm quickly.

It was a bad, bad idea.

He tries to get his hands out of my grip and not wake me up at the same time. I suppress a giggle as he swears under his breath.

Finally, he shakes me, whispering urgently, “Claire, for the love of God, wake up!”

I mumble an incoherent reply and snuggle back, grinding my ass to his boner in the process.

“Dammit…” he whispers and shakes me more urgently. “Claire, please wake up!”

It’s funny how he uses his arms and resists using his palms, knowing that he’d be doing nothing but fondling me.

Finally, my heart takes pity.

“What?” I mumble sleepily, and let go of his arms.

He grabs the chance and peels his arms off my body. I feel the bed shift as he gets up hastily, away from me, and lands on the floor on the other side with a dull thud.

I really miss his warmth.

“What are you doing here?” he asks from the floor, still whispering.

“You woke me up last night with your moaning,” I say, muffling my voice with the pillow, “so here I am.”

“Oh,” he says, as if he understands exactly what happened.

If I turn around to face him now, he’ll easily see how flushed I am. Slowly, I curl up into a fetal position, highly embarrassed at the situation I have created.

“Okay, uh…I’m going out for a run. I’ll be back in half-an-hour.”

I swear I saw a massive tent on his trousers as he stumbled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. My insides throb with a dull ache as an impending orgasm reminds me to take care of something.

I turn to the other side, facing away from the door, and slip a hand inside my pajama. My clit is standing erect as I move my panties to the side and rub myself in earnest. I breathe in his scent from the pillow and feel his hot warmth that just had been there, imagining his hands instead of mine.

Three seconds is all it takes for the dam to break open.

I swamp my moans in the pillow as I ride the waves after waves of pleasure jolting me apart. I sneak my remaining hand under my top and tug my sensitive nipples, the rhythm in sync to the throb that now courses through me.

A second bolt of pleasure strikes me – unexpected…and hot.

I ride out on the waves of pleasure, hoping earnestly that Mike doesn’t barge in through that door and see me like this. It’s after a long time that the quakes subside and I’m able to gain a modicum of control. I lie quivering for several more minutes, waiting for the delicious aftershocks to fade away into nothingness.

Then, I laugh.

I laugh at the absurdity. The sudden exhilarating feeling takes even me by surprise. It’s joyous and content. The sound of my laugh is strange even to me, but it is mine. It subsides after a long time, only punctuated by fits of giggles and snorts.

It’s good to feel so alive.

~ Weird Days ~

Have you ever jogged with a raging boner?

I tried…and failed miserably.

There’s an abnormal, indecent bulge in the front of my trousers that even a blind bat can see. Adjusting my cock this way and that, upside down and downside up…it just doesn’t want to be contained so I give up trying altogether.

I had a glorious dream this morning. There was cotton in my hand…soft fleshy cotton that molded to any shape I wanted. The feel, the touch was so exhilarating. I simply couldn’t get enough of it. When consciousness seeped in bit by bit, I realized I was actually holding them.

When I was fully awake, I realized they were Claire’s.

I was fondling her boobs. Her soft, perky boobs that had given me an unforgettable hard-on last time. Worse, she had my hands locked with her own, making it impossible for me to not notice her hard nipples that were poking through the satin-soft material.

I sit down on the front steps of my house and hang my head in shame.

What have I done?

She’ll wake up, recall the morning, and freak out.

She’ll never talk to me again.

After perhaps ten minutes, I feel Mike Junior calming down, grasping the fact that there will be no relief this time either. I’m too horny to run and too agitated to enjoy my daily dose of endomorphins. I decide it’ll be better to head back home quietly and resume my routine as usual.

I just hope she doesn’t call the police.

After the initial panic subsides, I realize it’s not completely my fault. She was in my bed, not the other way around.

But what the hell was she doing there?

‘You woke me up last night with your moaning…’

That could mean that she heard me talking in my sleep. God knows what she heard. If she tells it to her friends, it won’t take long for one of the bastards to descend with a pike to poke my ass.

I remember having a bad dream, but it had faded away, leaving me with a dreamless sleep.

Argh…I don’t know what to do. Too many things in my head doesn’t help much either.

One damn thing at a time, I say to myself and enter the house. I head upstairs to my room to see if she’s still there.

The unkempt bed is empty, the sheets ruffled as if trampled underneath wild horses. There’s a strange, musky scent…faint, but still there. I didn’t notice it in my hurry earlier. Without putting much thought into it, I quickly complete my morning routine and head downstairs to make breakfast.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Claire’s already there, sitting on a kitchen chair, doodling something on her mobile. She had changed her clothes from last night, which is now blue cotton, teamed with a loose top of the same color. She must have felt my presence, as she looks up at me.

“Good morning, Mike,” she says with a big smile, blowing me off kilter.

“Good morning,” I greet back. “You had a good sleep?”

“Yes, I did,” she replies. “It was the best I had in a while.”

Couldn’t smell any sarcasm, so I assume she must’ve meant what she said.

“So, about this morning,” I begin.

“What’s for today’s breakfast?” she cuts me halfway. “I’m really hungry.”

All right, then.

“Dude, what happened next?” Sam asks eagerly.

By now, my dolt of a cousin had accidentally spilled the news of Claire bunking the night at my house. He said it as an offhanded comment to an acquaintance, who said it to another acquaintance and pretty soon, the entire school knew about it.

Everyone’s giving me the looks and a sly grin, as if they know a very dirty secret about me.

“She thanked me and went away just before noon.”

“No…no sex?!” Nathan asks unbelievingly.

“Why the hell would we have sex?”

“It’s the law of nature, man!” he declares.

“Ignore that bastard,” Sam says. “On a serious note, word’s out that you two did it.”

“What?”

“I swear I never said that,” Dan says, hanging his head low in shame. “I just said that Mike hosted Claire for a night.”

I’m pissed off at my cousin, but part of it is my own fault because I was the one to tell him in the first place.

“Now what?” I ask.

“People are going to talk. It’s their business,” Sam says. “Act cool, just like the way you are right now, and the news will fade away.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“Just hope it does, otherwise you’ll be attracting trouble.”

Trouble came the same day in the form of our star quarterback.

It’s always the star quarterback.

I was taking out stuff from my locker when I felt a presence behind me. Closing it quietly, I turn around to face my newest “threat”. His name is Jim or something. I keep forgetting his name.