Chapter 6
Six
Astor
Usually, Jackie, the nurse, takes care of assisting Valerie in the bathroom. But as her nightmares have increased, a midnight bath is sometimes the only thing that will soothe her.
I stay close to the bathroom door, per the doctor’s orders. Until we find the optimal dosage for her new medications, Valerie is considered a fall risk.
As she bathes, I pace outside the bedroom door, whiskey in hand. It’s now one in the morning, and the buzz I’ve gotten is making me more tired.
“Astor?”
I stop, frown. Is that Valerie?
“Astor . . .”
I rush into the bathroom where my wife is standing next to the bathtub, naked. Suds slide between her protruding breast bones, down her painfully skinny, pale body.
My reaction is visceral. Pure disgust.
I lower my gaze to the floor. “You okay?”
“Come here.”
Something in her tone sends a tingle up my spine.
“Are you okay?” I repeat, unmoving. “Do you need something?”
“Yes. Come here.”
My heart starts to pound as I cross the marble floor, slick with splashes of water.
“Look at me,” she demands.
I don’t.
“I said, look at me, husband.”
Her chin is lifted slightly, her jaw clenched in defiance.
“Have sex with me.”
I blink. “What?”
“Have sex with me, Astor.” Her tone turns whiny and desperate. “Like we did the first night. Please, I beg of you. Have sex with me.”
She reaches for me and I recoil like a cat.
“No, Valerie. You’re just tired—you’re not thinking straight. You need sleep.”
“No, I’m not?—”
“Val—
“You are my husband!” her voice quivers with emotion. “And I want you to have sex with me.”
She throws her arms around me, stumbles as she leans in and tries to kiss me. I turn my face and jerk back my chin, fighting the urge to throw her into the wall. Her grip on me tightens as she sloppily licks my neck, my ear. Her hands are trembling.
“Valerie, please stop.” My voice quivers with emotion. “Please. Stop.”
She begins weeping, tears mixing with the trail of spit she’s leaving on my neck. “You don’t love me. I’m your wife, yet you don’t love me.”
I grab her wrists, yank them down and hold her in place. “Stop.”
“No!” She yells, tears streaming down her face.
She’s completely unhinged.
I stand frozen as my wife drops to her knees and begins unbuttoning my pants, while spurting sobs and tears.
“I’m your wife, ” she keeps repeating, as if convincing herself as much as me. “I’m your wife! We’re supposed to do this. Please, Astor. We’re supposed to do this.”
She grabs my flaccid penis, pulls it out of my boxer shorts and sucks me into her mouth.
I close my eyes, wanting to vomit. When I can’t take it anymore, I pull her face away.
“Lay down,” I demand through a clenched jaw.
She does, her watery, desperate eyes locked on mine.
My heart roars as I lower on top of her.
She grabs my dick and guides it to her opening. I squeeze shut my eyes and drive into her, gritting my teeth so hard that pain shoots up my temples.
Stomach swirling, I thrust into her, over and over, until finally, she screams my name.
Immediately, I pull out, surge up, grab a towel and toss it to her. Turning my back, I step into the shower, turn the knob to scorching.
The second she leaves the room, I drop to the shower floor, cover my mouth with my hand and begin sobbing.