Obsessive. Compulsive. Disorder.
It’s only a pinch. It was an excuse for nerves and now it’s habitual. The feather pillow is her personal distraction. The crunch of the feathers underneath her fingertips as she applies pressure to the outer layer that holds all her feather friends in place, takes her somewhere where no thinking occurs. Everything is turned off. The crunch of the feathers is all she can hear. The hard backbone of the feather that pokes through the pillow’s outer layer is all that she can see. The smell of wet cloth comes to mind when she would place it in the bath with her to rest on the top of her thighs. Taste isn’t relevant then.
From her bedroom, to the bathroom, to her living room and sometimes even in cars, the pillow travels with her. While watching a movie, during a conversation, while she’s giving her girlfriend head, if it's near her, she will pinch it. Sometimes unconsciously. Her fingers aching to be stimulated by the sensation of it all.
______________________________________________________________________________
“Babe can you get everything in the living room set for the movie,” Pepper, shouting above the oil popping in the heavy metal pans in the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Morrison calls back to her while shuffling from her room and her pillow to the living room.
Morrison finishes clicking on the tv’s power button, clears off the couch and recognizes she’s forgotten something as her other half walks into the living room.
“You ready?” she says as a question, but comes off as an impatient demand.
“I forgot something in the room,” Morrison answers as she directs herself towards the bedroom.
“Your pillow?”
______________________________________________________________________________
The lights are off and the fan is on low, which Morrison directed towards the door, so that any noises that will soon be made can be muffled for whoever lurked around outside and so that Pepper’s body remains unscathed from the fan’s sharp winds against her naked body.
Morrison parts her partner's legs in two while trailing her index finger down Pepper’s torso. She’s physically exhausted, but what’s a show without a performance.
Her mouth finds what Pepper has been yearning for. Begging for all day.
As her tongue does the presentation of its life her hands become unamused. This is nothing new for Morrison.
Running down Pepper’s pelvis, to her sides, and now searching for a brief satisfaction, her palms press into the feather bed that’s sneakily laying underneath the silverish silk bedsheet.
As she decides the press of the feathers against her palms aren’t enough, she moves her arms move towards the sides of her body; still pressing into the feather bed below.
Ah, she’s found it, and as her tongue does its mating ritual, she presses her fingers against the pillow’s fabric. The crunch of the pillow’s inhabitants makes a loud enough sound and her partner reaches to move Morrison's hands.
_____________________________________
“You’ll have to hide that from the kids when
we have them,”
her partner says matter-of-factly. “I don’t care, but it’s not good to
introduce them to something like that.”
Morrison tilts her head, “What do you mean?”
“Well, you just don’t want them to pick up on it and start relying on something like that. You know? I don’t mind when you do it. I think it’s cute.”
She nodded while reaching for the pillow to steal a quick fix.