Clara's Descent

Chapter 3

I didn't think. I just obeyed. I stumbled to the door, my movements unsteady, slowed by alcohol. I could barely walk straight. I leaned against the wall like an invisible crutch. The drunkenness twisted my stomach and numbed my legs--it wasn't the first time I drank this much, but rarely had I been this far gone, this early.

I unlocked the door. Then, somehow, I made my way back upstairs to the bedroom, undressing as best I could, tripping over my clothes. I lay down on the bed, naked, offered. I waited. And in that waiting, some part of me already knew: this man could ask me anything, and I would say yes. Fuck. I hadn't even seen him yet.

I heard the front door open, then close. Silence. My heart was pounding in my chest like a wild beast.

"Up here," I murmured.

He appeared in the doorway. And, against all expectations, I found him handsome. Truly handsome. A raw, masculine beauty--a presence. He looked at me without a word, then unbuttoned his jeans, let his boxers fall, and stepped forward, naked, his cock hard and aimed at me.

"Come on, beautiful. Suck me."

I sat up, obedient, and took his cock in my mouth. He guided me gently, with small gestures and a few low, rough words.

"Don't make me come yet, princess. I want to take you first. You're gonna drain my balls, little slut."

His words, his voice, entranced me. I trembled with desire. He stopped me.

"That's enough. Lie down now."

I obeyed, short of breath.

"You're soaking wet, baby. What a pleasure you're going to be."

He entered me. Slowly, without a word, without rushing. His body against mine. Then, suddenly, he started to thrust harder.

"I'm going to come, baby."

I came too. Hard. With a cry. A rare, searing orgasm that shook me from the inside. It had been years since I'd come like that. With Jeremy, I always faked it. Always. But now, for the first time in so long, it was real. My body said yes.

He pulled out. We lay there, panting, silent. I could still feel his hands on my hips. He looked at me gently:

"Kiss me, princess."

I leaned in, pressed my lips to his.

"You smell like booze... You've been drinking."

"Yes. A lot."

"You drink often?"

"Every day. Actually... I need another glass right now."

I got up, unsteady. I stumbled.

"Whoa, princess. Are you sure you should keep drinking?"

"Yes."

He followed me to the kitchen. I poured myself a vodka and Coke.

"Want a drink? I have to stop by 4 p.m. My husband's home around 8. I need at least four hours to come down. It's only 11:30--I've got time."

"No thanks. Here--take this instead. It'll help you drink."

He pulled out a small plastic bag, unfolded it carefully, then a credit card. He drew four neat lines on the table.

"This'll keep you going."

Without ceremony, he snorted two lines, one in each nostril. Then handed me the straw.

"Your turn."

"I don't know... I've never done this."

"Don't argue. I know what you need."

I leaned in. Snorted hard. A sharp burn tore through my nose. Then a warmth, immediate. Euphoria surged. It felt like the world was clearing, the drunkenness dissolving, my head opening up. I did the second line in one go.

"Woooow... Your stuff is... so good."

Chapter 4

I laughed--nervously--like a little girl who'd just stolen a forbidden apple.

"You know you're ruining me, right?" I whispered, my eyes still wet with pleasure, the straw trembling between my fingers.

He came closer, took my chin between his thumb and forefinger with that raw gentleness I had always searched for and never found. His gaze--steady, sovereign--pierced right through me.

"No, princess. I'm giving you back your true nature. That's not the same thing."

A shiver ran down my spine. That kind of sentence, in any other man's mouth, would have sounded fake, ridiculous. But not here. Not with him. In his voice, there was a quiet authority, almost mystical. I wanted to believe everything he said. Instantly.

"You want another line?" he asked.

I nodded without answering and snorted the last one without hesitation. This time, the sensation was different. Sharper. More immediate. My heart sped up, my thoughts raced in all directions, and I felt my body grow light, as if it were dematerializing. No more anxiety. No more fatigue. Nothing left but that artificial clarity, that electric lucidity.

He looked at me, amused.

"There. Now you're perfect."

I think I laughed again. A strange laugh, a little mad, too big for my face.

"I want you again," I whispered.

I pulled him by the hand back to the bedroom. He followed, both dominant and docile, with that mix of virile presence and sharp calm that drove me wild. I was naked, so was he. Nothing between us but tension, drugs, and hunger.

This time, he didn't speak. He just took me. Hard. From behind, against the wall, without warning. And I screamed. Screamed to feel alive. So the world would finally hear that I existed--loud and raw.

Everything had become electric. My body was on fire. My skin, hypersensitive, caught every breath like a shiver. I was out of myself, on the verge of bursting. And he, always, kept control of the rhythm. He possessed me. Literally.

Afterwards, I crawled onto the bed, dizzy, still laughing, breathless. I had no idea what time it was. I didn't care. Time no longer existed.

He lay down beside me, lit a cigarette, handed me one. I took it. My hands were shaking a little. We smoked in silence, like two accomplices after the perfect heist.

"You do this often?" he finally asked.

I turned my head toward him, slowly.

"No. Never. I mean... not like this. Not for real."

He smiled. A sad smile. Almost tender.

"Then why today?"

I blew smoke into the air, as if trying to find the answer in the swirling trails.

"Because I think I wanted it to happen. Because I couldn't take pretending anymore. Because I needed someone to really look at me. Even if it was you."

He nodded, almost respectfully.

"And do you regret it?"

I stared at the ceiling. My fingers played with the cigarette ash.

"No. Not yet. Not now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tonight. But right now--no. Right now, I exist."