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Optio	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 8319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 1-Annus Novus
- 2-Domus
- 3-Calor
- 4-Posco
- 5-Ludus
- 6-Felix Dies Valentini
- 7-Desiderium
- 8-Dormientes
- 9-Curre
- 10-Gravatus
- 11-Vita
- 12-Vigilo
- 13-Arcanum
- 14-Phasma Phasmatis
- 15-Possessio
- 16-Mutatio
- 17-Anniversarium
- 18-Monstrum
- 19-Lues
- 20-Vita Post Mortem
- 21-Iterum
- 22-Eam
- 23-Fidelitas
- 24-Veritas
- 25-Pacisco
- 26-Mundus Novus
- 27-Febris
- 28-Chemia
- 29-In Aeternum
- 30-Frater
- 31-Historia
- 32-Familia
- 8
- 9
- 10
Optio
Chapter 9: Curre
April 3, 2001 Tuesday 4:13 PM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Red Lodge, Montana
Status: Fine

Grocery shopping wasn’t exactly a fun task, yet it had to be done, and I preferred to go alone since it gave me time by myself which sometimes sadly led to me having “thoughts.” The yellow and purple bruise on my back had faded successfully, and the only thing reminding me of the sparring accident was my own mind that had stored the situation away as a long term memory. As for the man responsible for my wound, his had fully healed as well, something that was causing me to distance myself from him (he shouldn’t have healed so quickly). Rather than ignore his gift to me I was riding my bike through town daily instead of sticking around the house and waiting until we both were refreshed enough from our usual fuck-fest to begin another. Yet Wesker did not push the matter, instead he preoccupied himself with whatever he had secreted away in the locked rooms of the house, and I had hypothesized that whatever it was had to do with his virus.
He was tracking his progress no doubt, anxiously awaiting the day that he became all that he was before he came to me for help, and I wondered if his cold attitude would return as well. However, it was unfair that I was not putting any faith into him whatsoever, I mean it’s not like he hadn’t tried to reassure me, but either I was cooking, working out, or reading when he showed up. I even took to sleeping in my own room once more. Since the accident we’d probably done the “mommy-daddy hug” twice and I wasn’t lying when I confided in Gwen over a girl-lunch that though I was pushing him away I yearned for the sex. I had to make up a reason for the sex deprivation though, and my excuse was that he had said something rude about my brother and never apologized for it. Chris actually calling on the night of my birthday-i.e. my revelation night- also had a lot to do with my decision to begin saying “no” to Wesker.
Well, not so much as saying no but more of me acting oblivious when he did little things that said that he was up for sex.
With a heavy sigh I crossed eggs off of the crumpled up list and headed to the only open lane, and I wondered if Stephanie was the only steady employee they had. After she silently scanned my items she gave the smallest smile and handed me the black card.
“Hey Sara,” she began, almost making me jump into the air several feet at the sound of my alias rolling off of her tongue, “I wanted to talk to you about something later so you mind if I stop by?”
With no intention of coming off as rude, I blinked my wide eyes and shook my head slightly, “Uh no, you can come through.”
“Okay, I get off at 7:30?”
Still blinking I said, “I’ll be home.”
After declining help from the bagboy I stuffed the groceries into the trunk of the Trailblazer and drove home with the strangest look of bewilderment on my face. Once I was home Wesker helped me store away everything and he managed to corner me, pinning me between the counter and his solid body which he got to work on as soon as the pain in his arm was gone. No words passed between us as I stared up at him through half lidded eyes, and I felt his fingers, light as a feather pass over the skin of my arms, a small action that sent chills throughout me. My will broke as I tilted my head back and offered him my lips, this simple form of submission telling him what my heart had been arguing about with my brain: I missed him.
Our kisses were feathery and gentle as neither of us worked to take control, but when he began to undress me he ripped open my shirt, tearing a few of the buttons free, and I heard them scatter over the floor around us. He took me roughly, laying my body on the cold counter that caused goose bumps to rise over my skin, and I recall yelling in what was a mix of pain and pleasure. He never stopped, knowing that I wanted every thrust harder, every grope rougher, and for his grip on the hair just at my scalp to become stronger. We’d gasped quickly, in an almost animalistic fashion together as he pumped in and out of me with a pained look on his face, almost like he was forcing himself to hold back. Somehow I pushed through that uncomfortable feeling of him brushing against my g-spot, my legs beginning to shake violently once my body began perceiving it as pleasurable, and a cry that was not permitted broke the silence of the house and I grasped at his black shirt to keep myself from pulling my own hair or digging my nails into the palms of my hands until I drew blood.
More tremors made their way down my legs as I felt him give those few final thrusts that would bring him to his release, and surprisingly he followed my lead and gave a groan of his own.
For some reason my fucking legs would not stop shaking.
Shallow breaths filling the air around us, he pulled out, only to slowly reinsert himself yet again for good measure. At the sight of my restless legs he smirked, proud of what he had managed to push my body to: my very first vaginal orgasm. Before he could speak to mock me or before he could send me another smirk I pulled him down by his neck to fervently kiss his lips, and when we finally parted I released a deep sigh that doubled as a compliment towards him. Since my shirt was ruined I removed it, going to sweep up all of its former buttons while the blond held himself up against the counter. Apparently we had both pushed our bodies beyond the usual limits; it was different than the other times in a sense because we actually clung to one another and held on for dear life.
Our muscles endured resistance and I realized that I wanted another session like that in the future, although it would not be as good if it were planned.
Speaking of plans, I needed to warn Wesker that we would soon have company, and if I had half a brain I’d know he’d want to clear out before Stephanie showed up. After tossing out my ripped garment I approached him calmly as he sat watching the news, not bothering to take a seat next to him. “Stephanie wants to come by and speak to me soon.”
Absent mindedly he asked, “About what?”
“I’m not sure but she was acting… nice about whatever it was.”
His tone belonged to a statement. “I should leave.” Without bothering to ask where he’d go I let him get to his feet after turning off the television and walk to get his coat. Wherever he chose to go I was sure it was safe. And hell, knowing Wesker it may have been someplace on this land that he kept well hidden. My thoughts were interrupted when he cupped my cheek to deliver a kiss upon my lips that I barely felt. For a moment he lingered, and then he quickly swept off to the kitchen door, leaving me standing there with butterflies’ wings beating around in the pit of my stomach.
I did not reject that tickling sensation, but I instead relished the moment and the feelings he could stir within me. The blame for this was the fact that soon he would revert to “The Almighty Wesker,” but knowing that I had melted his heart even for a few months was enough to get me by, and I felt like I was the one with the accomplishment under my belt. Still, I hated that I felt for him, and it made it even worse that I would never love him. Whatever we were feeling though, I honestly didn’t want for it to stop because it was exciting, but this supported my theory that I was in it for the sense of danger.
Soon I heard Stephanie pull up in the driveway, her car crushing the gravel even more beneath its tires, and I let her in not knowing whether or not to offer her a drink.
“It’s okay,” she assured me, taking a seat on the leather couch, and in an attempt to be polite since she had displayed no hostility I sat on the other end. She had taken the time to change before she came over, now her work uniform had been exchanged for thigh-high, black leather boots with six-inch heels, black jeans, and a black, leather biker jacket. I would give her this, she looked great today, and I wished I could have that outfit.
Trying to stop staring at her I asked, “So what did you want to talk about?”
“I don’t want Jeffrey,” she blurted, quickly scooting towards me, and both her declaration and her action made me flinch with surprise.
“What?” Blinking, I tried to press my body further into the leather of the couch.
Rolling her eyes she leaned forward and grabbed my face, forcing my lips to meet hers, and I was too shocked to stop her for a good five seconds. When I pushed her off of me she stared down at the rug beneath the couch and gave a sad sigh.
“Do you think we always lived in ‘rural’ Red Lodge? City life and my dad’s not-so-frigid whore that was a relief from my mother wasn’t enough for this isolation. When I was twelve I had my first experience with a girl. Needless to say my mother wasn’t too happy about me joining a minority group. So we moved to red state Montana. I just always got a vibe from you, even though you’re here with your fiancé.”
Me gay?
Despite the fact that she couldn’t be more wrong I let her spill her guts and reveal all that she had been instructed to do and why. Her mother wanted her to marry a rich man with as much money as they had, and she believed her daughter’s sexual orientation to be no more than a phase that had a solution: moving her away from the influential delinquent that brought this about. She told me she had to be a bitch to me to hide the fact that she would have preferred me over Jeffrey, and that she had been talking with her father about coming clean to me for a while. As a matter of fact he was supposed to be the one to tell me about all of this, but Stephanie chose to be the one to tell me everything and I gained some respect for her.
I don’t know how long we talked, or how she thought I could help her out with her dilemma living a closeted life since that was her only choice. All I could tell her was to be true to herself, and if that left her without the family fortune then think of what was more important: money or happiness?
When she left I realized that I had forgot to get more body wash from the store so with a groan I went back out to the car and back into town. Since they were not in stock of my usual I considered my options of Dial or Dove, and I felt someone walking by swiftly behind me. Upon turning around I saw no one, but whoever it was, was now making a sharp turn to their right. Blinking, I decided to shrug it off as nothing seeing as so far we hadn’t been in any danger in Red Lodge.
Well the shooting incident was an accident, and though I had grabbed hold of the bottle I’d chosen I did not lift the soap from its place on the shelf. I had killed a man. Sure when I infiltrated the Paris facility a few lives had been lost in the explosion but it was different somehow this time. Maybe because I knew the secret he took to his grave and the one that his friend would more than likely take with him as well.
Before someone caught me staring off into space I snatched the bottle from the shelf and made my way to the candy aisle before I checked out. It always felt odd to enter a store and leave with one item. I grabbed a Kitt Katt bar and saw the dark figure pass by my current aisle, not even looking in my direction. All I knew was he was a white male with a baseball cap pulled far down his brow and his hands were deep in the pocket in the front of his hoodie. The sound his sneakers made told me that he had stepped into a sticky substance, and I used the noise to track him to the aisle ahead of me.
Bags of Funyons blocked my view, so I quietly pushed them to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. His back was turned while he quickly attached a black tube to something, and when he moved to turn around I recognized it as a gun and silencer. His brown eyes met with mine, both of us frozen in place for different reasons, but his trance was broken first as he lifted the barrel up to the space between the shelves and I finally made my legs listen to my brain.
RUN!
I heard something akin to a whistle, and I knew it was a bullet. Behind me a woman screamed bloody murder, making me think someone had been shot, but I couldn’t stop if someone was after me. I fished out the keys to the car and got in without checking to see if anything was coming and backed out of the parking space. With one last glance up at the windows I glanced into the store to see employees and shoppers running to the aid of someone, most likely to person who took the bullet meant for me. I peeled out of the parking lot, not going home but instead I drove through nearby towns, afraid that I would lead the assassin back to Wesker who was more than likely the true target.
At about nine thirty I pulled into the driveway, entering through the front out of paranoia, ready to inform Wesker of the attempt on my life, that is if he had returned home. “Hello?” I called into the dark den, fumbling around for the light switch, and I braced myself for the worst. Nothing was there, and there was no sign of a struggle or a break-in. Swiftly I climbed the stairs and made my way down the hallway, and Wesker’s door creaked open, a white arm whipped out and pulled me in.
Before I could scream I felt a large hand cover my mouth, and heard a man hiss, “Shh!” His free hand reached out to quietly close and lock the door, and strange as it sounds I could see that it belonged to Wesker from the light in the hallway (well it couldn’t be too strange since I had been sleeping with him so I should have known his body parts very well). I didn’t get to look at his face, he held my back to his chest and I felt him breathing in and out slowly. I had no idea what was going on but I felt like melting into his arms at this moment because even if there was an eight foot tall Cyclops bumbling around the house it just felt romantic.
Here I was again fantasizing about romance while in the arms of a Tyrant.
“Someone is in the house,” he said in a low voice, and I felt it rumble in his chest.
Pulling out of his hold I began listening, trying as hard as I could to pick up the slightest sound. The room was dark but I turned in his direction and stood on the tips of my toes to whisper in his ear, “Is it him?”
“No… a mercenary.” I still heard nothing, yet the silence in the house was forced, like someone was trying to hide themselves from detection to lure out their target. “I believe they’re in your room now. Do you have your bike keys?”
My voice barely came out as I whispered,” Yes.”
Without hesitation he commanded,” Run down the hall as fast as you can and don’t worry about noise. Hurry to the kitchen, get on your bike, and go.”
“Where?” I hissed, almost forgetting that we were being hunted right now.
“Home.”
I would not allow that word to sink in as I searched for any excuse to stay with him. “My job is to protect you, not the other way around.” His head was apparently in the other direction, the flash of red being the proof that I needed to know why he had no fear for himself right now. Stifling a yell of surprise I reached for his cheek, but snatched my hand back. This was too much to take in right now, and I was once more afraid of him. “When?”
“I will explain later now go.” I knew there was only so long someone would search my room, the closet space wasn’t that huge. Without wishing Wesker luck I decided to trust him and bolted from the room without really looking where I was going. Just as I passed up my bedroom in the periphery of my vision I saw the door fly inward, but I couldn’t stop.
Halfway down the stairs I heard what sounded like someone hitting the wall, and I finally heard a voice. “Upstairs!”
There are more?!
I heard beating at the front door, like someone was trying to force their way in, but I kept for the kitchen, slipping a few times on the wood in the den. The back door had been unlocked but I thought nothing of it, and the light on the house provided me with the illumination I needed to place my key in my motorcycle. Never had I found a key that fucking fast in my life, especially without thinking, but I didn’t hesitate when I heard gunshots. I hurriedly put my helmet on and reminded myself that I had a turn to get around so I was fine with starting slow, but as soon as I saw that straight, gravel driveway I was sure everyone inside the house heard me escaping. The speed limit was the last thing on my mind at this point, but Wesker was all I could think of as I got onto the interstate, Denver-bound once more.
He’s back to his old self, he doesn’t need you anymore. So don’t expect an explanation. Kiss your luxuries and that fucking hodunk-podunk town goodbye forever Miss Ivanov.
Knowing it was true all I could think to myself was, I know.
April 4, 2001 Wednesday 9:44 AM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Denver, Colorado
Status: Worried

This time I didn’t have a red suitcase. My fourth cup of coffee waited on the coffee table next to the phone, and I swear every light was on in my apartment even though the sun was shining in from behind the curtains. Finally I was in Denver, but not under much better terms than the last time because this time I had no idea if Wesker was alive. The memory of those eyes leaving fiery trails in the air flashed before my eyes as though it was happening again, and I tried to tell myself that I should have known this would happen. The countdown happened the night of the sparring accident, yet I tried to pretend that it would take more time. No, it happened the night of the shooting…
Think back recently. The way he fucked you? He knew.
Trying to ignore the voice I forced myself to take a sip of the still-hot coffee and it singed my whole tongue but for some reason I felt too embarrassed to curse or hiss at the pain. I think I was afraid of that voice making fun of me even though it was my own.
The slightest tapping noise interrupted the quiet of my little apartment, and I slowly stood up from the couch to make my way across the room. When I looked through the peephole I let out an exhale that took with it all of my anxiety, and without hesitation I removed the chain and unlocked the door. Rather than pulling the door open I only opened it a bit to peek my head out and let him know it was me. Wesker glanced in both directions of the hall, hinting that he wished to enter, and without another moment to spare I stepped aside and allowed him in. He chose to lock the door himself, and while his back was to me I tried to figure out whether to smile or not, but there was something that said I shouldn’t smile.
Something was telling me to prepare for disappointment.
Excitement had stolen my breath away, or better yet it may have been the anxiety that caused me to sweat and my head to begin spinning. “Are all right?” I breathed, refusing to close the gap between us because I knew what he was once more.
Was he really ever anything but?
Ignoring my question he said, “I will send you your things, all clothes acquired during your stay and the car.” What I secretly feared was happening but he just kept talking. “The bike was a gift of course, shred the card you have now, you will receive a new one in the mail issued to you; it is connected to a private account.”
My brow furrowed, my mouth opened with no words leaving, and I shook my head slightly. “What?”
His body was stiff, his back completely straight, chest out proudly, and he held his hands behind his back. There was no longer a trace of humanity in his gaze, no sign of longing for my touch, and he looked like he was disgusted at being in my humble home. “You will be set up for life and can choose whether to continue your college career or start new somewhere. I have not forgotten my part of the bargain, but until I am able to return the favor I hope this show of gratitude will do. It is my way of thanking you.”
Now that I finally had time to talk I gave a single, sad laugh, holding my arms out at my side. “So that’s it? You disappear now? Again?”
In response he raised a blonde eyebrow, but his stance remained the same. “Elaborate.” The one-word command stung so badly that I almost winced, yet like a cold bucket of water it woke me up from whatever daze Red Lodge had me in.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat I shook my head quickly to substitute for my broken voice that couldn’t make out the word, “nothing.” Shakily I whispered, “Hard to believe that we lived together without killing each other.” After much thought I decided to say, “This’ll be the last we’ll see of each other I guess.” I covered the question in my voice so well that even I didn’t hear it, yet since he was so good at reading people I had a feeling he would pick up on it.
You want him to, but if you were the same, smart Claire Redfield, you’d be glad if he didn’t.
His jaw taught, he answered professionally, “That is correct. You are in no danger. Those who saw you have been dispatched of, and they were of no relation to the enemy I was hiding from. It was a less competent opponent who chose to capitalize on the situation. Somehow he caught wind of my condition, and good fortune just so happened to be on our side.”
“When did you really go back to being…” I trailed off knowing that normal was far from accurate, but he knew what I meant.
Unwavering, he quickly supplied me with an answer. “The morning after the sparring accident when you went out riding. For some reason however, my side effects did not present themselves until tonight.”
I didn’t need a degree in Biology to know what side effects he referred to.
He could have killed you last time… now you know why he looked like he was holding back.
Something was on the tip of his tongue I could tell, but he bit it back. He had not completely reverted back to being a monster yet, but his strength and pride were back full force. “I wish you well Miss Redfield.”
That familiar feeling inside my head, the stinging in my nasal passage all came back; it was my warning that I would be crying soon. “Thank you,” I breathed to mask my disappointment and impending episode of sobbing.
With the nod of a gentleman he turned to leave, not pausing in his actions as he exited my apartment for the final time. Just as quickly as he had come on New Year’s and made the proposal to me, he had returned and left again. Once I was sure that he was down the hall I gave in to the weight tugging at my knees and I fell to the floor with my head hanging. Tears blurred my vision and I fought the queasiness in the pit of my stomach best as I could but I soon tasted vomit in my mouth that I had no choice but to force back down.
I was blinded by both my tears and my newly acquired shame that accounted for the real reason that I was distressed: I had fucked Albert Wesker. Night after night I had climbed into bed willingly with him and let him do things to me that I wouldn’t even let silly, harmless Byron do. A murderer’s hands and roamed my body, a treasonous snake that traded his humanity for the eyes of that very serpent had known me and I had let him. He walked into this house and told me goodbye forever, and to make it worse he got a nice little laugh out of it all.
With the knowledge that he was a monster again he took me, possibly getting some sort of sick pleasure out of fucking me while his virus forced every ounce of human blood out of his veins. My nausea returned as I patted at the wood for something, maybe an answer as to why I let him in. He wasn’t human and he had had me, he came in me, releasing his infected seed into my human womb.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, feeling the sick make its way back up my throat and this time I just let it all go right there on my living room floor. I dry heaved until my stomach twisted into knots and cramped, causing me an agony that was unheard of until now, and it forced me to ignore the burning in my throat. With no more energy left I staggered to the bathroom, my body clumsily hitting the wall, but my trip was cut short as every last bit of the strength I had left my legs. Blackness engulfed me against my will, saving me from the pain of my fall.
Date Unknown, Day Unknown, Time Unknown
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Denver, Colorado
Status: Caution

Though my eyes were closed I had regained consciousness, a feeling that I hated experiencing because it made me feel disoriented. The memory of why I was on the floor flooded back to me, making me wish that I could sleep longer, but once the jackhammer in my skull went to work I remembered that losing consciousness was nowhere near as pleasant as simply drifting off into sleep. My arms were tired, yet I soldiered on and lifted my torso up from the floor and managed to stand on wobbly legs. No light attempted to infiltrate the windows; it was now night, and I stared down at the mess I had made earlier in my disgust with my own self. Without thinking about much of anything I cleaned it up, going the extra mile by squeezing out floor cleaner onto every inch of the wooden floor and mopping it up.
I just wanted to be occupied.
So I scrubbed, dusted, and paid the utmost attention to every detail in my temporarily abandoned home.
“Home.”
Red Lodge had become home. What about Gwen, the Luomas, and the rest of the town? Without much thought to it I ran to my phone and dialed Gwen’s number, waiting for someone to pick up.
“Hello?” The voice was sleepy, but it belonged to her.
For a moment I was silent, my breathing shallow as I realized that I didn’t know what I should even say to her if she asked for an explanation. “Gwen?” My voice sounded unused, but it was still possible to tell it was mine.
“Sara?” I heard movement in the background as I identified excitement in her voice. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you two were relocating?” My mouth was open with no sound coming out as I tried to think of what to say. “I mean rushing off to Europe sounds romantic and all but a heads up would have been nice.”
Wesker had disconnected me from Red Lodge, and Gwen proved this as she continued to repeat all she had been told by him. Our companies were moving, we sold a few, and now that his father was dying it was imperative that we marry as soon as possible. Most of the time I cried as I listened to how we abandoned our home over night, but some light managed to shine through when she told me, “Jeffrey did let us know that we were the best friends you two had had though, and Sara, that means a lot to me.”
After she vowed to keep in touch we both hung up, except when I put the phone down I think I was the only one crying. I’d left behind my real life and had got caught up in Sara Ivanov though my pessimism had supposedly served as a constant reminder that I would be going back home soon. It all happened so fast.
So you wanted the attempt on your life to feel like it would last a lifetime? You got in, got out just like he did so why are you bitching exactly? Too fast? After three fucking days you were crying about going home but now you miss it?
Staring down at the phone I silently agreed with what could have only been my conscience.
So go somewhere. Do something, better yet someone. Most likely Wesker is…
Despite wanting to deny this I knew it was the truth: I wasn’t special.
April 16, 2001 Monday 10:36 PM
Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Denver, Colorado
Status: Numb

Wesker had kept every promise he made to me: he sent every piece of clothing from my dresser and closet in Red Lodge, he sent me the Trailblazer, he sent me another black card with what were possibly unlimited funds, and most importantly I had not seen or heard from him. There was nothing I could do about this though because he had made up his mind. So had I.
I was done sulking alone, and since Byron was probably too afraid to ask me anywhere I heard that he was throwing a party through some of his fellow frat brothers. I decided to dress provocatively since it would be my first college party in months, and I lingered in the mirror at the sight of my hair. It was straight I understood that but the length alarmed me. Noticing that it reached the bottom of my breasts in front I searched through my medicine cabinet until I found my razor, clicking it on to give myself a quick trim, and while I was at it I decided to cut my bangs as well though I hated waiting for them to grow until they had a natural look.
A good two inches was gone from my hair now, and with a frown I washed it down the sink. Weird how it wasn’t that long a few days ago… I adjusted the tight, white tee I wore and noticed that I filled out the top a little more. PMS, I thought to myself.
About a half hour later I was walking into Byron’s parents’ mansion, my body tense as I felt the vibrations from the bass of the music reverberating all around me. College students flooded in and out of the place, not one without a red, plastic cup in their hands. A few people I knew waved at me happily but refused to step away from their current conversations but it didn’t make me feel completely alone since I was used to isolation. As usual Byron was nowhere to be seen in his own house so I made my way to the backyard, avoiding being splashed by pool water as best as I could all to the reach the bar which was manned by a professional bartender and not some moron just slinging together “cocktails.” Professional as he was though he couldn’t help staring at the girl in front of me who was topless without any cares, and she didn’t even think that maybe the creep with the camera across the pool would peddle the video of “babes.”
Rather than continue to act sour I decided to try and appreciate that it was seventy-three degrees tonight, knowing that next week mother nature wouldn’t be too gracious to the young girls who had rushed out and bought new bikinis in hopes of crashing a frat party.
“SCHOOL’S OUT FUCK YEAH!” The yell was followed by a loud splash, so I didn’t even bother to look, but the half-naked girl turned around, drink in hand as she gave me a view of a not so impressive rack. The bottle blonde avoided my eyes and she sauntered off.
“Four shots of vodka,” I ordered, waiting patiently as he took his time filling the shot glasses for me.
Just as he finished filling the last one he frowned at me and said, “Haven’t seen you in a while.” It took some time but I realized that he was the very same bartender that mixed drinks at every one of Byron’s parties and for a few other frat boys. “You look different. Happy.”
“Okay…” With no idea what he meant I took back my shots and waved to him before beginning my walk back into the house. By the time I got upstairs I was sure that the alcohol would be kicking in so I could begin enjoying the party, and I was right. Not sure if I was going to be sick I stumbled into the bathroom in the right wing of the house, interrupting a primping Valerie Swan. “Sorry.”
My muttered apology was unneeded and before I could leave she said quickly, “That’s all right.” Unsure of what to do I stepped into the room, my sneakers silent against the tiled floor. “Shut the door.” At her request I ended up slamming it, but she could see that I was drunk so she forgave my clumsy action. “It’s so fucking loud downstairs. Better up here.” Her gaze returned to the mirror as she coated her lashes with some expensive looking mascara, and she further made up her eyes with some black liner.
Valerie wasn’t a slut per se, but she was extremely different from the girls we went to school with. Any and every girl nowadays tried out for Playboy, but she was a certified Bunny that had appeared on the front covers of a few magazines and her spreads were infamous around here. What made her so special was that she was accessible, or at least that’s what a few guys thought until they found out she was a lesbian. This reminded me of Stephanie, but she was too ashamed of the way she was to openly tell others.
Nervously I glanced around here and there, trying not to stare as the brunette applied a fresh layer of gloss to her lips. Valerie was not the typical blonde bombshell you would expect if you heard of her from someone; she opted for her natural color over bleaching, and she had no need to tan which was something she thanked her mother for since she had been a native of Greece. Her tits were obviously fake, and everyone knew her cup size: 34 DD and this caused the drooling, horny college boys much grief since they knew they would only be able to see them in a magazine. She was about the same height as me, but her body was curvier than my own, which she proudly showed off in a white and black corset and skin-tight jeans.
Smirking at her own reflection she gave a chuckle, “I thought you could hold your liquor Claire.”
So did I, I thought to myself, trudging over to take a seat on the closed toilet. It wasn’t like I wanted her company; I just didn’t want to be alone while I pondered over why I was suddenly a light-weight. “What’s it like to pose naked?” I blurted out, but my fear of a nasty retort was unneeded since she only let her smirk grow wider.
Finally, she turned to look at me instead of using the mirror as a way to make eye-contact. “Maybe you should find out. You have a body for it. Plus, you’re kind of a redhead and guys eat that shit up.” My silence caused her to scoff. “Don’t worry. The big, scary lesbian isn’t hitting on you.”
A part of me wanted her to be though. I wanted to try it, the thought of being with a girl had my hairs standing on end. Letting out a deep breath I stood slowly, trying my hardest not to embarrass myself by falling forward, and I drowsily held myself up against the wall. I must have been smirking but I couldn’t tell now that my lips had gone numb, but maybe I did because Valerie had a half grin on her face as she took my hand into her own.
Gracefully, she led me to one of the guest bedrooms that always stayed free of party goers due to Byron’s few strict house rules, but sometimes he’d make an exception. I guess she was on that short list of privileged guests.
It took me awhile to hold myself up successfully on the overly-soft bed that had one too many pillows piled near the top. The brunette’s long fingers stroked my face as she whispered something in what I assumed to be Greek, and I lifted my head. She continued to whisper to me softly, grinning at me in my inebriated state, and when she fell silent her lips lingered over mine. Her breath was cool against my lips, leaving her lightly, and she ran her tongue over her own before she lowered her head further.
Her gloss was sticky; smearing over my mouth as she hungrily kissed me, pushing me back so that she was straddling me. With a moan she began grinding her hips into mine slowly and her lips wandered down to my throat. Here and there she nibbled playfully, sometimes lightly suckling at the skin as I pulled down her corset to play with her breasts. I had wondered what fake ones felt like, something I was ashamed of ever admitting before.
In silence we stripped, however I didn’t know if we would actually do anything, and to my knowledge we couldn’t. Valerie trailed kisses down my neck, the valley between my breasts, and she was soon running her tongue down my stomach, staring up from her clear, green eyes.
The courage alcohol gave you.
She hovered over me for a while, kneading her hands into my breasts while she teasingly flicked her tongue. “Welcome to the club.” The amount of vodka in my system made me numb to much of her actions, but I moaned because it was expected of me, and I didn’t want to look like an idiot by seeming bored by something that I wanted. Glancing down between my legs I thought I saw a blond head, but my eyes were only playing tricks on me.
Someone else was in the room though, and they were getting a mouthful from Valerie. Some stoner had tried to feel her up, yet he failed miserably and asked if he could at least watch.
“Ask her.” The pause in activity had me feeling drowsier than before, so before I could slip off into a deep sleep I sat up and pulled the brunette back down to me for a kiss, tasting myself on her lips. My liquid courage was not gone yet, and it gave me the nerve I needed to attempt to emulate what she had done to me. “First-timers are always the best,” she moaned, giggling when I nipped at her thigh.
I had no prior experience in eating out, yet I seemed to be doing an adequate enough job to make her squirm. The familiar scent of rubber wafted throughout the room, and something weighed down the edge of the bed. Honestly, I was too gone to react, and too depressed with myself to even care. I’d given myself to Albert Wesker in this very same position before, and he was a man who turned out to care nothing for me, so what was one more?
The intruder gave a push, lingering for a moment to give a sigh of pleasure, and after he gave a chuckle of satisfaction he began sliding in and out of me at a fast past. The level of intoxication I had reached kept me from registering much of anything, so his thrusts felt like nothing to me. Ignoring him I continued to focus on Valerie, constantly trying to push Wesker’s sneer out of my mind, but he kept returning to mock me and what I was lowering myself to do. I had let him corrupt me, but just because he so willingly made himself my first it did not mean that he had to be my last.
You will never forgive yourself for this.
As Valerie released one final squeal if bliss, I once more agreed with my conscience, but what could I do at this point. Like I had merely been a receptacle for him, the stranger gave a “Woo!” and pulled out, leaving without a word to either of us. Still, I felt nothing internal or external, and the girl that lay before me seemed to notice this.
Rather than collect her things to leave me here, she pulled me to her chest and stroked my hair. “A broken heart heals, but this is not the way.”
Teary-eyed, I lifted my head, “Then why did you let me?”
She shook her head. “Because you only can learn the hard way.” I swallowed hard, turning my gaze to a vase filled with flowers on the dresser against the wall. I had run from my problems and emotions, only to end up facing them regardless of my efforts, and now I would have to lie in the bed that I made for myself.
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