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“Do you ever think—“ Norma takes a swing from her wine bottle. “Do you have a lot of negative thoughts about me?”
Joe doesn’t look at her; his head is leaned back on the pillow behind him on her bed. Joe for once has finally allowed himself to turn off his brain for a few hours, and now she's asking important questions again. The stress of living with a star was aging him about 20 years.
“Give me that.” He reached out, and Norma passed him the bottle. She stared, still waiting for an answer. “Define—define negative.” He coughs after taking a long swig from the bottle. “Do I think you're the worst person ever? I should. But I like you. You're great to me; you’ve remained good to me.”
Norma nodded, swallowing. “By negative I mean, do you think I’m strange?”
“…Yes.” Joe confesses he feels a small smile slipping.
“Look at me while you talk, Joe.” Norma dictated, and he immediately did. That was his problem. He could call her strange and think she’s crazy, but he couldn’t not listen to her. She would snap her fingers, and he would obey. “How strange am I? Describe how—. How unusual I am.”
Joe took another quick swing; the wine burned his throat. His voice came out more cracked than intended. “I assumed that people like you—stars. I pictured they were so put together emotionally, not physically. You're perfect. Natural. But you’re also dependent. We met a few months ago, and we just clicked. I originally thought it was you dragging me down into a deep pit, but honestly, I jumped right in after you.”
Norma nodded; she took the wine from him. “I see.” She clicked her nails against the bottle. “You talk like a writer.”
Joe nodded; he actually allowed himself to laugh for once. “That’s what I am.”
Norma studied the boy next to her. He had taken his jacket off due to the heat of her mansion. He was sweating through his white undershirt; Norma always loved him with it on. She could see his toned muscular arms and the veins popping out on the side of his neck. A few beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and she bit her lip.
“What?” Joe implored. She liked how the heat caused his cheeks to change from pale white to a lighter shade of pink.
“Nothing. Just looking.” Norma set the bottle down on the table in between their seats. “Admiring.”
Joe made a deep noise in the bottom of his throat. He looked away from her; she stayed looking at him. The heat was probably getting to him.
“Come here.” Norma extended her finger and signaled for him. He looked back and moved towards her without a word. He crouched down beside her chair, and she played with his locks for a few moments. “You cut your hair?”
“Yes, I did.” He was staring at her, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore.
“Hm.” Norma hummed. “Closer.” Joe crawled until he was right in front of her, on his knees, his face flushed. He placed his hand on her thigh and rode up under her dress. She nodded, and he pulled down her panties.
“Oh, of course.” Norma shakes her head when she sees her blood-stained underwear. “Oh, well—“ She gasps at the sensation she feels between her legs. “Joe—”
Joe looks up at her again. His mouth is covered in blood up to around the bottom of his nose. His cheeks are beet red, though it’s hard to tell. “I’m sorry, is that not—.”
“No, no.” Norma grabs his hair. “Keep going, please.”
Joe nodded and moved forward back into her pussy. She moaned, running her hands through his hair to steady herself.
“There, right there.” She rasped, pushing his head against her. He listened and pushed his tongue against her clit and flicked it slowly. He rubbed her thighs at the same pace.
He pulled back for a second to catch his breath. He licked the blood around his lips and hummed at the taste.
“Fuck, Joe. You're crazy.” She chuckled, removing her hand from his hair and moving it to her chest; he missed the warmth from her palm.
“Me, crazy? I could leave you like this—.”
“No, wait. Keep going.” She pleaded. He cracked a smile and continued.
He licked around the sides of her vulva, making her shudder with pleasure. She was moving too much, and he was shaking. He grabbed on her thigh to steady both himself and her. He found his way back to her pleasure point and ran his tongue on it before sucking slowly.
Norma let out an involuntary shriek, and he swallowed down a laugh. Apparently she heard it because she mumbled a quick ‘shut the fuck up.’
After about two minutes, she let out another shriek followed by a series of breaths. Joe pulled back; he licked more blood, combined with a different white liquid, off of his lips. He probably needed a lot more cleaning, but that was fine for now.
“Are you okay?” He asked first, and she nodded, her breathing steadied.
“This chair is probably stained.” Norma sighed. She pulled up her panties and stood up. He was still on the floor, on his knees beside her. “I think I like you down there; you look better from above.” He looked up at her, starstruck. He hated how much power she had over him. He wished that he had driven anywhere else that day. But his pants did tighten at her voice.
“Wait.” He said, noticing that she was walking out to the bathroom. He usually never asks for company after they fuck. He stood up, grabbed her hand, and just kissed her. He did that for a long time.
Norma had never tasted herself before. She cupped the side of his cheek. He leaned into her.
“You're too good for me.” She shook her head. She removed her hand quickly and excused herself to the bathroom.
“And too young.” He whispered to himself when she left. He felt where she had cupped his cheek before. This seemed like a moment where he would cry or something, but he didn’t. Crying would be far too out of character for him anyway. But he did find himself missing her touch. Embarrassing.
It was embarrassing how he had become a slave to her at this point. It wasn’t like he was forced to do anything, quite the contrary. He just felt obligated to please her. Making her feel good just made him feel good.
Whatever, unpacking the Stockholm syndrome he had developed wasn’t that important anyway.