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"Filthy" I
Laid out on the couch, a hand splayed across her stomach, Blue was sure all the roundness couldn’t completely be the baby. It seemed sealed behind a thick layer of fat. Squishy in her palm. Folded in a roll beneath her ribs. She ought to fix her posture. She looked like an eccentric armchair. Still, the tie of an empire waistline dress tight around her sides, she imagined the baby kick. Screwed shut her eyes. Fixed herself with a grimace of great concentration. Wondered if she felt the infant’s heartbeat of the pulse in her own fingers. And felt rather foolish for deciding she was emotionally ready for a child. At eighteen. How laughable. She stood.
“Blue?” Her summons was muffled. Vincent would have been downstairs. Locked away in his study. Sat in the half-darkness. Surely, she’d imagined it. That shut door meant just that. She couldn’t go in. She had never tried to. She missed their apartment, knowing all too well only because he couldn’t escape her there.
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Shady Blue "Filthy" II
Stiffly, she followed suit. Relaxed as he tugged her into his chest. Neck craning sideways as he leant over her, breathing into her skin. She wished silently he’d nibble at her skin. Slide a hand beneath her skirt. Rub his erection up over the back of her. But all he seemed to want to do was stare. “What?” She asked quietly. “You’re beautiful.” He spoke just as quietly, untying the woman’s dress without a word. So, she fixed him with a stare over her shoulder, sighing as his mouth pressed to hers. He’d opened the front of his wife’s wrap dress, fingertips creeping down her torso, stomach stiff against his forearm and his hand swiftly rooted in her panties. And as she sucked in a deep breath, the bulge of his child pressing into his arm swelled somehow further, he never wanted to fuck the mother of his child any more—or any less. “There are so many things I want to do to you right now,” He murmured in her ear, fingertips strummin
Shady Blue Chapter Twenty-Eight I
Blue had been sat in the bath for quite some time, though not because she’d woken in a fit of terror as she had the last time. She didn’t dream of an arranged marriage in her short nap. A life where her child fondly called Richard “dad”. Her mother’s only purpose was to ruin her life. She hadn’t seen Vincent in years. Though she still had a strange dream. She had been at the breakfast table, nursing a bowl of porridge. Her parents were sat side-by-side as they always were. She could see the scene from an aerial view as though her soul had long since left her body and possessed the overhead lightbulb instead. Staring down at them, Bradley with a knife to the hilt in Marian’s back, he twisted when she fell silent, urging her to say something cruel and nasty to her daughter. This time, he tugged the knife out. Thrust it at the side of the woman’s spine, blood spraying the backs of the dining chairs and dripping steadily onto the floor. “God, you look terrible,” She spl
Shady Blue Chapter Twenty-Eight II
Anya looked as busy as ever as she fussed over Sandra’s sheets, the woman watching with crossed-arms and puckered lips from the doorway. She always did. As though permanently unsatisfied with it all, including the way her maid breathed. Anya could imagine the woman as she stood, though her eyes were fixed to the throw cushions she couldn’t get to sit properly in their sleeves. Her giraffe neck would crane forwards, talons wrapped around herself like a cloak. She’d be tapping her foot impatiently as though trying desperately to match the rhythm of a song she was pretending not to quite like. She would shift from foot to foot as though trying not to dance. Then, if God was just, she would stiffly bounce into the horizon like Duchess Rowena in the Mattel adaption of the Twelve Dancing Princesses. “What do you think about all this?” Though Anya straightened at the sound of her boss’ voice, she did not turn to face her. Instead, stared a
Shady Blue Chapter Twenty-Eight III
She had to dig for quite a while until she struck gold—though it could more realistically be considered a landmine. Her diploma sat bronzed and shining, tucked away in a crinkled plastic sleeve that had torn as she’d jammed more and more useless documents into the spotted cardboard gift box. She considered it uncharacteristically mature of her to take it with her when she silently moved from home. Mind you, she had forgotten all about it until her brief stay with Marian again. By brief, she of course meant half a night.“I’m sure it’s here,” her bathrobe was slipping further and further over her shoulder as she riffled through the untidy stack beneath the diploma; a tombstone for all of the more heinous envelopes. A statement from her now-defunct trust. A parking ticket she’d stolen hoping Marian would be slapped with a late fine she could so clearly afford. Her yearbook. The marriage license she had stolen from
Shady Blue Grace Marks I
“How’s the baby?” Blue and Marian had been leafing through racks of tiny children’s clothes; a onesie that could hardly fit her fist; a pair of overalls she knew would make changing diapers hellish; a pair of teensy wee trainers she could wear on the tips of her fingers and stomp around mockingly with. The baby was a very vital part of this question, without whom the clothes would be a rather strange waste of money. They ought to hope the baby is doing just fine. “Perfectly healthy. Seems to be liking a lot of different foods these days, too.” She smiled a cheeky, tight smile to her mother, a doll-sized baby blue sweater with tiny Hogwarts steam trains draped across her chest. “That looks a bit like boy’s clothing, doesn’t it?” Marian couldn’t quite let go of a tiny pink dress with a tulle skirt. “It’s unisex.” Blue held it in front of her, staring at the knit. The fabric seemed nicer than anythin
Shady Blue Grace Marks II
“Good book?” Vincent wrapped a hand around his wife’s foot, flopping lazily in the air. Laid on her stomach, chin in her fist, she hardly seemed pregnant. Though Vincent knew better. She had a smell about her, certainly something he’d conjured on his own. A sweet smell. Her hormones mixing with his. Her breasts bulging from her shirt. Skin soft and sticky much the same way well-rested dough was. “Alias Grace. Ironic, I know.” Blue closed the book. Peered over her shoulder. Kicked against his hand playfully. “Never heard of it.” “It’s about caring more about getting someone in prison than committing the crime,” She paused. Staring blankly at the cover. “Well, it’s mostly about only finding women interesting when they’re whorish or evil.” “Maybe you should be reading something happier.” He was now sat beside her, the mattress bending to his weight, her dress crept up the backs of her t
Shady Blue Grace Marks III
She could still feel it, about as confused as a Victorian woman being told sexual frustration was hysteria. The rush of it all, being ushered into a quiet room. Christian had sat opposite, a camera staring her in the face, his blonde, cropped hair blending in with the pale wall as she stared into a steadily-flashing red light. He smiled an encouraging smile, aged face creasing from the weight of it. And those dark brown eyes that looked like tiny weights were hanging from the outer corners stared. “Tell the camera what you told me.” He had instructed, sunk back in a plastic school chair with a small smile far too satisfied for her liking. But he had only half a mind for it. Blue fidgeted in her seat. Maybe going with the dress would have been a better decision. Though a lot less comfortable. She’d been sweating excessively per pregnancy. The last thing she needed was armpit stains. She’d gone with a green plaid tube top. Straple
Shady Blue Grace Marks IV
“Are you joking?” He had his wife’s face in his hands again, staring between her narrowed eyes with a look of expectation now not quite as well-hidden. “You actually went to the police?”“Of course, I did, all the love I had left for him went when I found out how much my mom actually cares.” She looked like she’d thought it rather obvious. Despite the fact she’d been defending him for so long. “He could be sentenced to death, and I’ll be happy to do it.”“You don’t mean that,” he’d released her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees. But she’d rocked forward. Wrapped her fingers through the sides of his hair. Met his eyes with a stare he wasn’t quite so daffy to break.“He told me it was my own fault Richard hurt me.”“But Richard’
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