Page 34 of Tainted Love

I start the water and carefully undress. As I step into Sascha’s shower, the scents of lavender and vanilla envelop me, and I let the hot water soothe my aching muscles. I can’t help but be embarrassed and regretful about my current situation. But for now, all I can do is rinse away the physical grime of the day and try to push away the emotional turmoil bubbling inside me.

The absence of Irish Spring body soap is no issue as there are plenty of other products to choose from—a variety of Avon products and Suave shampoo line the shelves. I smile, knowing I’ll smell like a meadow after this shower, and secretly pleased at the thought of smelling like Sascha. My body responds with a stirring in my groin as I lather myself with strawberry body wash, the sweet scent filling my senses. But I quickly banish any thoughts of self-gratification on my first day here. Instead, I focus on washing away the lingering smell of old hockey skates.

Stepping out of the shower, I reach for my towel only to realize it’s not where it should be. I don’t think I locked the bathroom door in my haste to get cleaned up and enchanted by stepping inside a girly peach sanctuary. Panic sets in momentarily before I remember that Mrs. Bell must have taken it to be washed. I debate running across the hall naked to get another one but then dismiss the idea. What if Mrs. Bell sees me?

Cool water drips from my body as I grasp the tiny washcloth and cautiously step into the hallway. There, leaning against her open door, stands Sascha, with a towel in one hand and a mischievous smile on her lips. I don't know if she's trying to take my mind off the day I've had or mess with me, but if she wants a war, she's got one.

I pause and tilt my head to the side, meeting her challenge with a confident grin of my own. Her parents’ faint voices drift up the stairs, adding an illicit thrill to our encounter. With a daring move, I drop the washcloth and let it fall to the floor, exposing my nakedness to Sascha’s hungry gaze.

Her eyes widen as they drink in every inch of my body. They roam from my hair down to my feet and slowly up again, lingering on the place where the washcloth used to be. As she takes in my form, her pale skin flushes with heat, but there’s desire burning behind her expressive eyes. Her smug smile fades away, replaced by a look of pure lust that sends shivers down my spine.

Without breaking eye contact, I offer her a flirtatious wink and walk toward my room without saying a word. If Sascha wants to play games, she’s about to learn just how skilled I am at playing them.

The moon shines brightly through my window as I lay in bed, unable to shut off my racing thoughts. It’s well past midnight and the world outside is quiet, except for the occasional hoot of an owl. Sundays are usually a day of rest for us, so I have no obligations or responsibilities to attend to. However, that doesn’t seem to ease my restless mind. I know I should try to sleep, but I find myself getting dressed in a comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants.

With nothing else to do, I go downstairs to the kitchen for a late-night snack. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that all I’ve eaten today was dinner, and that was over six hours ago. As I rummage through the fridge, hoping to find some leftover casserole, I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

I turn to find Sascha standing there with her arms crossed. She’s wearing a thin t-shirt and sleep shorts, her hair thrown up in a messy bun that somehow looks effortlessly attractive. Despite my annoyance at being caught scavenging for food, I can’t help but admire her appearance.

“Can I help you, Princess?” I say with a teasing smile, stepping aside to give her room in front of the fridge.

“You can get out of the way,” she retorts, annoyed by my presence.

“As you wish,” I reply playfully, sweeping my arm in front of me in a mock bow before moving out of her way.

She can’t help but smile at my Princess Bride reference. “I’m hungry,” she says, approaching the beige appliance.

“I gathered that,” I say with a smirk.

She lets out a frustrated huff, her breath escaping her in a rush, and then methodically pulls out the leftover casserole and a couple of plates. She scoops generous portions of the savory dish onto the plates and places the first one in the microwave to warm it up. We don’t speak through the entire process.

Once the first plate is ready, I expect her to grab it and retreat, leaving me to finish my meal alone. But to my surprise, she sets it down on the wooden kitchen table with a gentle clink and repeats the process for the second plate. With deft movements, she retrieves two forks, napkins, and two glasses of water.

“Eat,” she says once all is prepared for our intimate midnight snack.

I sit across from her at the small round table, feeling warmth and comfort from the cozy kitchen. We eat for a few minutes in silence before I finally break it with a confession.

“What you saw this morning,” I begin hesitantly. “That’s not who I am.”

Her response is flat and lacks emotion, “I’m not asking you to explain.”

“But I want to. I want you to understand,” I plead with her.

She sets down her fork and pushes away her half-eaten plate, giving me her undivided attention. “Okay,” she agrees, her eyes searching mine for the truth.

Taking a deep breath, I begin to open up about my struggles. “First of all, let me just say that I rarely drink, and I’ve never done drugs.”

She nods in understanding. “So, why last night?” she asks gently.

I push my own plate away and run a hand through my hair. “My home life is less than ideal,” I start. “My mom left when I was young, and my dad...he’s a deadbeat.”

Her expression softens with sympathy. “Is he an addict?”

“Great question,” I reply sarcastically. “Alcohol, drugs, gambling...you name it.”

“I’m sorry, Michael.” Her words are filled with genuine remorse.

“It is what it is,” I shrug. “But the worst part is how he got my older brother caught up in his bullshit too. Brian had a promising future with football, but when we moved back here, it didn’t take long before our dad disappeared again, and when he did show up, he had no problem dragging my brother along for the ride.” My voice cracks as the memories flood back.