Promise Me

Promise Me: Passion, Resentment, and Regret

Promise Me - Spectre of the Brocken - Ran Kime - She was in heat - tumultuous relationship

She was in heat. 

Her loins were on fire. 

On the edge of my mattress, she gyrated in a disco-like rhythm. I moved in, ready to seize the moment. 

Do you remember promising me a night out on the town?” She slurred in a drunken haze. 

No recollection. I thought without a verbal response.

Well, you did!”, she hissed under her breath.

When was this?” I asked.

When I fuckin’ said it was!” She continued her sensual grind on my mattress. Her eyes crossed, her head tilted, and she gasped for air as if her breath had been locked away. 

You promised to help pay my rent, remember?” She dug in.

Ummm, this escapes me.” I added. 

“Don’t you remember promising me a trip to the White Mountains to see the foliage? Yur’ probably too drunk to remember, but that’s oookay. I’m used to it.” 

She continued.

“And the thousand dollars you said you’d transfer into my bank account last week? Ya forgot that too, I see.” She persisted in her sway.

“Do you like what you see, daddy?” She continued to tease, trembling with each self-induced climax. 

“I do,” I replied. 

I could not lie.

“And ya promised to put me on yur’ life insurance?” 

“I don’t remember that.” I said.

“Oh…you did! It’s only fair. — Do you want this, big daddy?” she asked, now seeing through me with her blank eyes.

I nodded affirmatively. 

“You want what you see, baby?” She asked again.

A quicker nod this time. 

I could not lie.

The bed became a fiery spectacle brought to life by friction.

“And yur’ promise to always take care of me, no matter how many men I’ve been with. You were soooo drunk when we talked about it; you probably forgot.” She muttered.

“Um, I ah…” She shot a half-smile through her orgasmic trance. 

“Oh baby, what are ya gonna do with me?” She teased.

“Nothing,” I said. “Ya gotta leave, please leave!”

The grinding continued as if my words carried no weight. Reaching a crescendo, she unleashed one last plea. 

“You want this, baby? If you do, take me to the Galápagos and marry me.” 

I stood up, now doused in her flames. My so called ‘unfulfilled’ promises seemed apparent. 

Had I failed her? 

She finished with the mattress, slithered into a recovery stretch, spread across the bed. Exhaling a hum of an unfamiliar tune, and said, “This is all because of what you’ve done to me. I am this way because of you. See what you’ve done?” 

I nodded, as to not prolong this any longer. 

I slowly dressed, then turned my back to her to leave. A wine glass slammed against the door. Shards kissed my face.

I didn’t look back, knowing it would all start again. 

Goodnight and good riddance. 

Broken love leaves so tragically.

Promise Me: This story can be found in the collection “Spectre of the Brocken: Halo for the Observer”

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Ran Kime Writer
Ran Kime, a writer, poet, musician and recluse from New Hampshire, crafts abstract stories, flash fiction & poetry that probe the psyche. His collections include “Spectre of the Brocken: Halo for the observer” and “Way Past Tipsy & Other Silent Cries for Help”.