Page 44 of The Spiral
“Put them on,” I mumble, unable to stop my dick hardening at the thought. She frowns and glances across at me as I discard the silk in my fingers and pick up a long satin, matching negligee instead.
“But this is her, isn’t it? Selma?”
“Just put them on, Madeline.”
She shakes her head a little, backing away from them and inching along the wall towards the door again.
“I need to know, Jack,” she whispers, looking around again. “I need to understand.”
“Why? It is as it is, regardless of why.”
She looks startled at my lack of information, her fingers gripping the back of a chair.
“This is... All this is not right. It’s…”
I hold the garment up, watching as she flusters around the words and tries to make sense of the situation.
“Ask for her,” I say as I take a step forward, pushing the satin at her. She glares at it in my hand, reminding me further of how my wife would get angry in her confusion. “Let her tell you to fuck me again if you need to.”
What was an unfocused glare becomes a look of shock as she backs away again, sliding towards the chest of drawers in the far corner. Time becomes as irrelevant as life as I centre on the shake of her limbs, licking my lips at the thought of what she could look like wearing these clothes.
“You believe this, don’t you?” she stutters.
I nod. I do believe all of this. There isn’t anything to disbelieve. She’s here, in this house, having come from nowhere offering the image of my wife. There’s no other explanation for what is happening around us, and the throb of my heart as it lurches closer to her burns inside to take and forget giving her a chance to remember. It’s alive in here again, waiting for all the segments to slot back together and prove the love I once knew.
I glance at the drawers, wondering whether I should open them and show her the pictures, let her see who she is as she stood there in her wedding dress.
“Can you tell me something, Jack? Anything?”
“Put this on, with the shoes, and I might.” The fabric slides through my fingers as she looks at it, her frown creasing again at the thought. “I’ll show you.”
“The room?”
“No. You don’t need to see that.”
A burst of light flashes in the room, blinding me enough that I stumble back a little and then reach for Madeline. She squeals as I grab onto her, her body folding into mine as I shield her and glance around the space for Selma. Frigid air comes just as quickly, telling me everything I need to know about my wife’s wrath.
“I will not show her until I’m ready,” I growl as I turn Madeline towards the wall, shoving the satin at her. “Put this on.” I reach for the shoes, too, pushing them into her hands and turning my back to wait for my wife’s eruption. “You’ll damn well wait, Selma.”
Hissing sounds out in the room, the door creaking along with it as it shutters back and forth, making me pocket my hands and calm myself. She can fuck around as much as she likes. This will happen at my pace, not hers. “You’re being a bitch again, baby.”
“This is crazy,” Madeline whispers, one of her hands braced on my back, clutching me. I turn my neck to look at her, raising a brow and smirking a little. “I am not mad, Jack. I’m not.” Maybe she’s not. “I think you might be, though.” I smile wider. It’s a madness I’m beginning to enjoy. She will, too, if she gets with the damn programme and puts the fucking clothes on.
“Dress, before I lose patience with both of you.” Her mouth opens to retaliate, but the sudden rush of wind that bristles through the room has her eyes widening in fear before she can. “Do as you’re told and we’ll see about showing you something.” She stares as I walk away, leaving her exposed in the corner as I head for the curtains. “Now, before my temper gets the better of this whole fucking situation.”
My fingers tip the curtains back to look out into the grounds, watching for the darkness to descend and warn me to stay inside. I chuckle as it creeps across the gravel, the low fog following it.
“I’m showing her, Selma,” I mutter, uninterested in her hatred of the thought. “That’s what she needs first.” The door slams behind me, a loud crack coming with the move. It makes me chuckle again, almost waiting for stamping footsteps to echo in the hall outside.
“Show me what?” Madeline asks.
“The past. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I turn to look back at her, and am as stunned as I first was when I walked into this room. My face flattens under the sight, desperately trying to remember the need to do anything other than make love. Satin floats across her curves, highlighting everything that Selma was, is. Even her hair seems darker in this light, shadows casting a chocolate tone across it. And her eyes glimmer in the small shaft of light from the open curtain, emphasising pupils that contract and widen.
“I’ve known your eyes for so long I can’t see anything else but them.”
“What?”