Free Live and Let Die by Bianca Sloane Page B

the door and started up his green Chevy. Paula couldn’t remember the last time she’d been inside Phillip’s car. Might have been last year sometime. She herself never drove. Paula had never been a good driver to begin with and then after the accident, she vowed to never again get behind the wheel. Paula shuddered at the memory as she locked the door behind Phillip and set about doing her chores for the day, trying not to think about tonight. Vacuuming, scrubbing, laundry, and dusting made the day pass quickly and before Paula knew it, it was time to prepare the meatloaf she didn’t like. It was her mother-in-law’s recipe and she always found it too salty. Once, she decreased the amount of salt and was thrilled with the results. Phillip, however, had a fit and put her in the hall closet for two days, so it was back to the heaping tablespoons of salt the following Tuesday.
    Dinner passed without incident and Paula tried to steel herself for the task ahead. She took extra time washing the dishes, swirling the damp dishtowel across the gleaming white plates until they squeaked. She placed the last dish in the rack, her heart about to jump out of her chest over the stress about what was coming.
    “Paula?” Phillip called out from the living room.
    She gulped. “Yes, dear?”
    “Hadn’t you better be getting ready?”
    “Of course, dear. I was on my way now.”
    Paula entered their bedroom and rummaged around her drawer until she found her pink flannel nightgown, the one Phillip insisted she wear every Tuesday. She’d grown to hate the soft, prim material and everything it represented. With a heavy sigh, she removed her stiff white bra and thick white panties and slipped into the nightgown. She flipped off the light, lay down in bed and waited, wondering if Phillip could hear the pounding of her heart from the other room. The TV went silent and Paula closed her eyes, listening for Phillip’s silent tread down the hallway to the bedroom. The door creaked open and she could see his silhouette illuminated from the glow of the hall light. She tensed up at the familiar jingle of his belt buckle, followed by the whoosh of his pants as they fell to the ground. He took his time undoing each of his buttons and Paula knew he was watching her. She squeezed her eyes tighter and tried to slow the ragged rhythm of her breath.
    The bed dipped and groaned with Phillip’s weight and Paula tried to keep herself from flinching as the hem of her nightgown trailed up the curve of her thigh and over the flat plane of her stomach. His fingers flicked across her nipples and Paula gulped, hoping the promised tears wouldn’t slip out of her eyes. He took both hands and jiggled her breasts haphazardly, rolling them outward, then up and down, the cue for her move. Paula lifted her hand and groped along Phillip’s inner thigh until she found his penis, small and flabby against his leg. She took a deep breath and began to manipulate it between her fingers, raking her hand up and down until it finally grew stiff within her palm. Phillip stopped squishing her breasts around and rolled on top of her, pushing himself into the dry, rubbery space between her legs with a soft grunt.
    He rammed against her, trying to get comfortable and Paula gripped the mattress to keep from crying out in pain. Finally, he began to jackhammer inside of her, shaking the bed until it squealed in agony. Beads of sweat slid down Phillip’s forehead and splashed against Paula’s nose, though she didn’t dare wipe the drips away until he was done. His breath started to come in short bursts, Paula’s sign that this torture would be over soon. He pushed, up and down, up and down, knocking the top of Paula’s head against the bulky oak headboard. He stopped and planted his knees on either side of Paula’s head, before shoving himself into her mouth. Paula fought back her tears and tried not to graze against him with her teeth. She’d made that mistake once before and