CASPERWAIT$
Drama Moobs Your Mom
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- Aug 3, 2010
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This is what I sent to agents.
Read at your own peril.
Read at your own peril.
CHAPTER ONE
It wasn’t as if Cassia hadn’t dealt with these situations before. Her desire to be heard always repelled by hesitance in action. Aesthetic beauty subconsciously stifling her voice. Not that she wasn’t vocal. She was known to get her point across with a raised cadence peppered with curses. An Italian with stereotypical overtones, Cassia could be that doting wife, chewing on the things that bothered her as well. At thirty six and in her eighth year of marriage, she assumed her husband Timothy had a wandering eye. Thankfully, he never gave grounds to think he was acting on it. A hobocentric mind frame wasn’t anything to worry about right?
Timothy had a body and stature steadfast in its appearance. At 6 foot 3 inches tall his presence was of a cocksure alpha male, but the confidence of a nerdy professor. Was it the impish simplicity of his smile? The toned down manner of his wardrobe constructed for comfort? He would wear khakis and polo shirts with such a regularity, his friends thought he owned stock in Dockers. Whatever the reason, Timothy shined brightest when he was muted. In the background as Cassia did the radiating.
Devoid of salacious intentions, Timothy wanted his desires to be silent with hints of altruism. Part of him knew he had to be successful to hold onto Cassia. He had caught the proverbial lightning in a bottle, but lately, the cap was loosening, and he felt his grip begin to slip. His mind fought the ironic affirmations on how he ended up with HER. Before meeting Cassia, his sex life was akin to a Raines Sandwich. Two pieces of bread with a brick in between. Served to bar guests during Prohibition, it skirted the excise law of 1896. Once a patron got this delicacy with their alcoholic beverage, it would be whisked away to the next customer. Timothy knew he was never the drink in the relationship. A brick used for subversive means.
Unbeknownst to him, Cassia’s heart wasn’t a one way ticket, and the validation she sought was in the form of a passport to his soul. Over their relationship, the fiery lust that she craved morphed into an unmitigated proclivity that opened her. Pandora’s Box be damned. She was going to love regardless of her past.
Yes, he fantasized. Oh, how he fantasized. Becky, the pizza delivery girl seemed to be his go to as of late. Last week, she heard him groan her name during sex. A designation more synonymous with good hair and vacant repose than of ideological sensuality. Mousy yet exotic, she had that allure of a basic Sophia Vergara. Timothy swore he was saying “Bang Me”. Not once, but multiple times as her name became his mantra. That didn’t make sense in that present moment. It was Thursday, and pegging Timothy was strictly for Saturday nights. He bordered the line of alpha with sub few could straddle without losing themselves.
That’s as far as he allowed himself to go in the adultery department though. Through the years, as much as their marriage had ebbed and flowed, Cassia commingled his love in ways she was still amazed by. Those moments of enchantment had been waning though, and tonight would hopefully reignite that spark.
No need for a babysitter this evening. No need for a babysitter ever. While they were dating, they had talked about how having children would interfere with their life plans. Fast forward to now, and would those been affected by a rugrat or two? Cassia did imagine how she would look pregnant. Her breasts, a natural D cup, she’d laugh at the concept of being more top heavy. Cassia had heard about men that had a pregnancy fetish. She would be the expecting woman that expected to make men’s heads turn. Did Victoria Secret manufacture push up bras for this kind of thing? She would tease. Her nipples hardened, waiting for the stares to commence. A large part of her was an exhibitionist. Would Timothy fuck her with others watching? Having a part of themselves growing inside of her as he grew inside of her began to make her flush. Alas, practicing was considered a lot more fun without actually playing that game. It wasn’t that they didn’t adore kids. They both knew that some hobbies were better left to professionals.
“Should I wear heels to where we are going”? A diminutive 5ft 3, Cassia loved to play dress up and dress tall. Strikingly exotic with jet black hair and deep set brown eyes, she could see through you as you stared into her aesthetic abyss. “Dress as if you were going to a ho down thrown by Paris Hilton”. Timothy had a dated sense of humor. It’s as if his pop culture knowledge was cryonically frozen circa 2001. He was the guy that lamented the day Playboy stopped delivering magazines and went fully online. “Something about the danger of getting a paper cut as I pleasure myself heightens the experience” he would scoff. He would watch her as she dressed. Her body natural expect for her glow courtesy of Zoom Tan. Cassia had an aversion to bras. She would wear adhesives under her breasts. Always looking for an opportunity to flaunt her large nipples, it drove Timothy mad. “You know, we are going somewhere where Amish might see you. Get ready for a gang milking to commence.” “Azekial wants this ass baby.” Cassia, did a slow 360 as Timothy was reminded what her backside looked like in a clinging tight dress.
Driving South on Route 89 towards Ithaca, Timothy put together a playlist wrought with irony and memories. Music from eight years ago that would remind her of a time and aural space that brought them together. Timothy and Cassia had the love of one hit wonders in common. In retrospect, what if their romance was a one hit wonder? On paper, these thoughts could’ve been understandable. Thankfully, they were quickly diminished after the first time they had touched. Benign physical gestures culminating into a feeling of profound togetherness. For a woman that prided herself in independence, it was impossible to escape how Timothy completed her.
When the initial chords of Hanson “MMMBop” started playing, Cassia laughed inwardly. A chortle that tickled her body in a bout of reminiscent bliss. “Much like our marriage honey, not every song on our playlist are winners” Timothy chuckled. Cassia knew that he was trying hard tonight and an utterance like that, a goofy yet well-meaning comment wouldn’t take her out of her dreamlike state. “I totally would’ve fucked a Hanson brother if given the chance”.
As the signs on the drive grew familiar, the route he was taking became evident. Cassia knew where he was going in all facets of this evening. They had been down this road before, but it’s been years since the road more traveled felt new. As Cayuga Lake met the sky in a tonal grey color, she realized this destination was his poetic journey. Never one to express his feelings in actual words, his actions were their sonnet. Cassia opened the passenger side window to feel the breeze against her hand. Droplets of rain began to fall ominously in precipitation. With a forecast of rain, the thunder became her sirens call.
As the droplets formed into chilled daggers, Cassia showered in her memories of Timothy. She needed to remind herself that he was the one person to ever bring her to that point of orgasmic completion. To this day, she would cringe at how at her own hand, she never felt relaxed as she masturbated. She partly blamed her puritanical mother. As a teenager, she would pleasure herself with one hand and hold her bedroom door knob with the other. Cassia’s mother wasn’t a fan of locks on bedroom doors. That included her own. In retrospect, it partly explained why her father was always unhappy. The array of toys she owned were more of an accompaniment to her long life edge. Timothy’s sexual nourishment of her body satiated her. A full belly of undulating sustenance, she never went hungry. Cassia had been close time and time again with others, but it was something about...him. His certainty. His warm vapor in all the right spots at all the proper times. Breathing as he matured inside her. Passion wasn’t solely a manifestation of physical desire. Timothy’s grew out of love. It was as if his cock and definition of manhood was meant for HER.
Every instance Cassia came through him, she’d go to a place and time. A space that would give her opportunity to mend wrongs of her past. A sexual revisionist history of sorts. Seven minutes to make everything right. 420 seconds of subjugated correction. Cassia wasn’t thinking in metaphors when she did this. This was all literal. When Cassia had an orgasm, she could turn back time. Her satisfaction, a Delorean of epic proportions. Over the last eight years, she had been able to rebuke her first kiss, deny the phone number of Jake the bartender, and not go back to Paul’s house that awful night. A butterfly effect doled out in butterfly kisses. Those episodes, akin to an orgasmic do over, she was reticent to change the past. What if she never met Timothy? What if his Christmas account became the calling card for someone else? She knew the risks she took when she went back in time, and so far, her time travel hadn’t tarnished where she was at this moment. Over the years, she had learned to stay within the moment with him.
As the road twisted, Timothy began to fidget with the volume on the car stereo, turning the knob precariously similar to the grooves in the road. Always the DJ and DD, the car was his safe haven. Where Timothy excelled sexually, he was all thumbs playing car stereo. . “What's the point of listening to music if you can’t turn it up”. Cassia put the window up as the rain came down harder. Her left hand had become numb to the weathered sensation. Drizzle like thick needles of warm water, it all felt circumspect. Timothy kept driving as if the car was his guardian angel. Practical in his spending, he could’ve bought a midlife crisis car ten times over, but never had the gumption to do so. His Honda Accord was his automobile definition. As the faded out yellow lines melted into a visual obscurity, Timothy began to drive as if all rules of the road were meant for somebody else. The car, veering precariously close to the median, it held sway to the music. Not deterred by the uptake in the rain’s ferocity, Cassia absorbed it with a numb aplomb. She began to get excited by the prospect of what tonight had in store, not knowing that tonight would be over momentarily.
Melding speed with the acceptance of mortality, Cassia didn’t flinch. Timothy embraced the idiom that “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. The car, giving false hope of safety curled the median like a slumbering dog on a three quilt bed. He drove faster, unbeknownst that this moment could be his last, but relished in the anticipation it could be his newest. The first instance of masculinity without a word. She felt the impact. True to form, it took an outside force for her to feel. Her seatbelt, keeping her body at bay as her head whipped forward. Cassia felt organs she didn’t know she had. The crash, not nearly as violent as the car made it out to be, it assuaged her. Cassia momentarily lost consciousness, but physically she was as unsullied as a pristine china doll still in its box. The lasting pain she would feel would come soon enough.
Timothy laid motionless. His arms twisted around his torso like a baby octopus learning how to function. Blood pooling to the point where she couldn’t tell where his injuries began or ended. A crimson puzzle of affliction. No need to shake Timothy or ask him to wake up to know he was deceased. His body, deflated, eyes open, colder by the minute. Cassia embraced him to keep him warm. What felt like hours to gather her composure was actually minutes. Where were the police and ambulance? Why hadn't anyone called for help? For a split second, Cassia thought she was in a populated area with pedestrians and onlookers. Much like her own life, she was in a place with no one to hear her scream.. As she slid her hand into her front jean pocket to call 911, the brevity of the situation began to take form. “Hello? I’ve...we’ve been in an accident. On route 89 roughly 10 miles from Ithaca. Myself and my husband. I’m pretty sure....very sure...he’s dead.”
