Psyche: Writing Excerpts

"Abnormally Attracted to Sin" by Tori Amos

"She may be dead to you
But her hips sway
a natural kind of faith
That could give your lost heart a warm chapel
You'll sleep in her bell tower
And you will simply wake...
Abnormally attracted to sin."
--Abnormally Attracted to Sin, by Tori Amos


An alter ego
The beautiful one
She'll pick up the pieces
After the damage is done.
She can do all the things
That Carrie cannot
She's in control of her body
And will use what she's got.
Never having been
Disappointed by love
She'll make you cry out
To the Gods up above
She'll take the reigns
And you'll pay attention.
She'll bind you in chains
And teach you a lesson.
She has the courage
To do even more
You'll wonder to yourself
Who's keeping the score.
Crafty and cunning
She has different plans.
She'll send you to Heaven
Using her hands.
Now you get the idea
Its going to be okay
Lie back now
It's time to obey!

I'm worried and scared... which is something I thought would completely disappear once I got married. Naive. I thought of marriage as this safe haven where I would be protected and saved from the heartache and pain I seemed to constantly deal with in the dating scene. I didn't realize that heartache could happen even in marriage. And the feeling of being "together" but alone was probably the worst loneliness of all.

Underneath him I feel like a dripping wet mango.

I couldn't remember what else I had needed, or even what I needed the onions for. He has a way of erasing thoughts in my head...or rather, making me feel like someone took my brain out of my skull, whisked it like an egg, and put it back in my head.

He is certifiable... but that's one of the many reasons I liked him from the second I met him. I'm in love with a freeloading wacko. But who doesn't want Pot legalized, anyway?

One thing I do know is that love sucks... and that logic hardly ever enters the equation. I'm too old for this shit.

I turned around and walked up another aisle, and he followed me in the other direction.
I kept thinking, "please don't follow me" even though I wanted him to.

I turned around again, and walked up the next aisle. He again followed me in the other direction.

This time instead of waiting, he came to me. Directly, and fast. If I was going to escape, I would need to run.

He grabbed the basket I was holding, and put it on the floor.

"You don't need to run away", he said.

He pulled me toward him and put his arms around me...the most incredibly warm embrace I had experienced in a long time. Our hearts were beating fast.

"I missed you", he whispered.

I hugged him tighter.

"You didn't miss me, did you?" he asked, laughing.

I tried to be less crass, but failed. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I felt myself start to cry, but somehow managed to hold back.

I know right from wrong, but my evil alter ego...the one who bought the leather jacket and finds herself really disappointed that her pheromone lip gloss hasn't arrived yet ...wants to rip his clothes off before he even opens his mouth. Now that tangent is over...

"You got a leaf in your hair", he said. As he took it out, we locked glances. Something we had avoided for months, possibly even a year or more.

My knees started to shake and I felt my heart beating in my throat.

"Uh oh" he said barely audibly, still looking at me. "I'm in trouble."

"Why is that?" I asked, anxious to hear his response before I died of a heart attack.

"I think I'm in love."

He covered his face with his hands. "Oh God, I'm so sorry."

He turned away, slouched over with his head between his knees.

The sun seemed to instantly fade away again, and the snow began to fall again.

I reached out, and touched his back. I could feel him shaking as much as my hands were.

"I'm in trouble too", I said. He slowly slid down a little in the bed, a move that caught me off guard as I quickly tried to figure out what to do with my arm which had been resting on his chest. Then I realized it would have to hold me up.

He started kissing me from the nape of my neck and continued upward, while his hands rested on my back. Very tiny, gentle kisses. It was by no means slobbering, and felt like tiny little electric shocks. I think I felt each of them throughout my whole body.

"Why are you shivering?" he asked. "Its just me."

"I know" I said.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked. "You have about three seconds."

"Um..." I don't even think I would know my name if asked.



"Two..." he said, kissing my chin but getting closer.

"No, I don't."

He put his right hand on my left cheek, and his lips finally met mine. He gave me a full, slow, passionate kiss that seemed to last for several minutes. In that time, the envelope had fallen to the floor, which I didn't realize until much later that evening.

Clearly due to lack of oxygen, he pulled away gently. He pulled me closer to him and I rested my head on his chest. He rubbed my back with his right hand, and ran the fingers of his left hand through my hair.

After a few minutes, his movements and his heartbeat were gradually slowing, and I knew he was falling asleep.

I wasn't quite sure why at first, but tears were streaming down my face. To be sure, there were a lot of feelings occuring at once. I had forgotten what it was like to be kissed so passionately. And it wasn't because I was jerking someone off or having sex with him. It was out of love. Not necessity or obligation. Regardless of what happens from here, I will remember feeling loved for about 10 minutes.

We stopped at my car, and I took my keys out of the pocket of my blue fleece coat.

"Bye!" I said, and gave him a quick hug.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you get away like that", he said.

He pulled me toward him, and gave me another passionate kiss, even better than our first. This one was much more intense. We fell back against my car door and I dropped my keys. It was raining and we were getting wet, but I didn't care. When he pulled away, I felt like Lois Lane in Superman 2 after Clark kissed her..light headed and about to pass out.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'll be fine." Just get me some orange juice Clark, freshly squeezed. I picked up my keys from the pavement.

"Goodnight", he said. He squeezed my hand again, and reluctantly let go. He smiled a warm beautiful smile that magically seemed to cause me to do the same thing.

He turned around and walked away. Taking my heart with him.

He reached for me again, and held me tight. He let me cry in his arms for what seemed like an eternity.

"I know its not a good time to tell you this, but I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone. If you need me, I'll always be here for you. I promise."

I hugged him tighter, knowing I would need to hold him to that promise.

I grabbed his face with both hands, and kissed him.

"My ability to act like a mature adult is quickly diminishing", he said softly.

"That's ok", I said. I kissed him again.

"Can you that? Have sex SOBER?" He asked.

I pretended to smack him in the face, barely touching him with the palm of my hand.

"On one condition", he said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"That ordering me around like a piece of meat thing... can we save that for special occassions?"

"Oh God!" I yelled, covering my face with a pillow.

"And no GADGETS... those should be outlawed."

I giggled from underneath the pillow. He yanked it away.

"No VOODOO" he said wide-eyed, waving his hands in front of my face dramatically.

"I promise", I said, crossing my heart.

"High five", he said, putting up his hand which I touched with mine.

"Sounds like a wild night", I said.

"It was. I wish you had been there", he said sadly.

"I was and I remember most of it", I said, embarrassed. "I just didn't think it was real."

"We need to talk about that...more", he said very seriously, looking me straight in the eyes.

"We do", I said, nodding my head.

"But now...let me do this my way", he said.

He then proceeded to make love to me for what I hear was the ninth time. Two unusual things occurred at the same time... daylight and a very delightful multiple orgasm, in which I felt completely connected to him. He maintained eye contact with me the entire time, which I found very difficult and embarrassing at first, but as I got used to it I realized we were sharing energy. I can safely say I have never had an experience that came even close to measuring up to it. It was truly intimate... and actually healing. I never really thought that it could ever be like that. I cried and laughed at the same time.

The rest of the day was spent walking everywhere, holding hands, and talking about pretty much everything. He wanted to know everything about me, and truly listened. It was like having the first 20 dates we never got to have. He held doors for me when we walked into stores, sat next to me in the booth at the diner we went to for lunch, and put his arms around me like a best friend.

And it was wonderful.

I stared at my cell phone sitting on the coffee table, and I picked it up. I felt like a pushover, but I already needed him. I wanted to call and hear his voice. But would he pick up? I didn't know whether this was the beginning, or the beginning of the end.

I called.

It took me a second to realize, but outside my door was a cell phone ringing. That couldn't be a coincidence. And I couldn't help but spite of everything.

I opened the door, and found him sitting on the stairs and smoking a cigarette.

He turned sideways and looked up at me. "What took you so long?" He asked.

"How long have you been sitting there?" I asked.

"For about an hour", he said.

"If we're going to be together, there are a few things you need to know about me."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Sometimes I smoke more than just cigarettes, I drink, and occasionally partake of psychedelic substances."

"No kidding", I said.

"Also", he said. "I'm a terrible lay."

"Now you're just lying", I said. "Get the fuck in here."

We hadn't had sex in a very long time... and choosing this particular day and this particular moment upset me. I was not asked...though I didn't protest. It seemed like this was his attempt to "claim" me again... as if it would somehow change my mind or make me feel any better about us. Maybe I owed him this attempt...and I felt that not letting him would have been worse.

So instead of refusing... I let him do what he wanted, as tears streamed down my face. My tears were not noticed or acknowledged. I thought of other things...anything else...but my body was remembering something else entirely. For a moment, I was not 34 but 13 years old again... being raped by my drunk 16 year old boyfriend with a knife to my throat.

I was feeling used and angry... but did nothing.

I found myself revolted by his grunting and heavy a wild boar in heat. I thought to myself, "I can't believe this used to turn me on." It had been years since it had.

He turned me over onto my stomach and continued to pound into me. That's all it felt like to me... just pounding. The sex was completely devoid of love or any other feeling. It seemed to take eternity for him to finish...but was probably a few short minutes at best, since that's what it always was. After the deed was done, I was turned on my side, and he put his arms around me. I used to think of "spooning" as a very intimate and romantic way to fall asleep. It was obvious that he saw this as romantic. But it was not for me. Romance to me now...was the man I love smiling at me... holding my hand...embracing me...and anything else he wanted to do out of love. He didn't need my permission because he had it without exception. But my husband no longer did.

What had just been done was unappreciated...he knew how I felt, and this was his way of telling me he didn't care. He fell asleep holding me, with his breath against my neck. I fell asleep crying but not making a sound.

Even when people already know... that doesn't make it easier. In many ways, its even harder. You feel like everything you do... and every choice you on display. People seem to watch you closer. They seem to look for signs that you're crazy, so they can rationalize why things have gotten so out of hand. They don't know, nor do they care, that you never intended for anyone to be hurt...nor did you even expect this would ever happen to you.

When he came that hard, he looked so beautiful... almost fey-like. While I found myself mesmerized by the sheer look of ecstacy on his face, a strange thought popped into my head... "Shit, I should do this for a living."

I nuzzled his neck and he smelled of fresh air and a soapy clean scent, like Irish Spring. I kissed him on his chin, and his stubble tickled my lips and tongue. Most of the time his face was very smooth, but I love facial hair, and when he didn't shave for two or three days it was like a cherry on an ice cream cone... a nice little extra treat that made something already incredibly delicious taste even better. He put his hand on my waist and kissed me on the lips. His tongue tasted of Strawberries and whipped cream. He peeled my ivory sweater from one of my shoulders (I was wearing a brown strapless chamise underneath) and kissed me there, then my neck, chin, and returned to my lips. Sweet communion . I missed his kisses so much. Our hearts were beating fast, and I could feel the longing in his kiss, his soft moans, and the way he gripped my waist tighter every second. Nothing had changed between us. I had been so lonely without him, and all I knew at this moment was that my heart was completely full. I can't remember the last time I loved someone this deeply.

He pulled away and took a deep breath. He had tremendous willpower and control in these situations (which is also what made our love making so intense and gratifying), and I had to rely on him to stop himself, since I had none. As precarious as it would have been with no lock on the door and the windows wide open and unconcealed, if he had wanted to make love I would have complied without a second thought. I never even needed foreplay with him... the only time you need to butter someone up is when they aren't dripping with butter already. He turned onto his back and I rested my head on his shoulder. He rubbed my back, as I started to fall asleep in his arms. My last thought before I drifted off to sleep was that I wonder what it would be like to fall asleep AND wake up in his arms. I bet waking up to him beside me in the morning would be a wonderful feeling.

"Come back to me soon", he whispered, just before I fell asleep.

"Do you like to be on the bottom or the top?" he asked, taking his shirt off. He was so beautiful. How did I end up with a guy like this?

"It depends on my mood", I said.

"What about now?" he asked with one raised eyebrow.

"Bottom", I said. "Then the top", I said.

"I love an ambitious woman" he said.

Both of us were usually very vocal when we made love, but we weren't alone so we tried to be as quiet as we could. He knew me enough to know when he needed to shut me up (by kissing me or pulling a blanket over us), which he did lovingly. It was playful. We cuddled, and talked, and laughed.

As we laid facing each other, he whispered "I love you", before drifting off to sleep. For several minutes I caressed his face (he has perfect, soft skin, and was clean shaven), ran my fingers through his hair (which was thin, but soft), and sadness started to overwhelm me. I didn't want to leave him.

"I wish you didn't have to leave", he whispered. He barely opened one eye, he was very sleepy.

"Me too", I said. It was in the little moments of silence that I would watch him, notice things that no one else seemed to notice, and become conscious of how much I loved him. So much, that I had to fight back tears. The feeling stretches back further than I ever fully realized. And it wasn't just the man I loved.... it was the little boy inside him that I loved too. And I was daydreaming about what a wonderful Dad I knew he would be someday... he would be the hands-on kind, the kind who would take their son or daughter out and actually do things with them. He could play rough, but also be gentle and loving, and patient when his child gets hurt. He would kiss the bruises, and dry the tears, and bandage the knees. If he really never had kids of his own, it would be a shame. Alot of love, care and fun would be lost. He should have a family.

And it will most likely be with someone else....someone far more deserving of this man, who should have a wife and kids who adore him and whom he can be proud of. They would be so lucky indeed. And I would be there watching at a distance, envious and sad, but also happy for him and those who were actually worthy of his love.

He then got on his hands and knees at the end of the bed, and the mischievous look on his face made me giggle. He proceeded to kiss my toes...then my ankle, my wounded leg, the inside of my thighs, my belly, chest, neck and then my lips. And after we kissed for what seemed like eternity, he looked at me smiling and said "Ok, put on your pants" and got up so fast I barely saw him move. Unaware of the condition he put me in, I put on my pants with trembling hands and almost fell over putting them on. That really would have been the icing on the cake. I think if I ever have a daughter I will name her Grace, so that she may have that which I do not.
"There's more batter left" he said. "What should we do with the rest of it?"

"It seems like you have plenty of ideas", I said.

"I DO" he said, with a mischievous grin on his face.

The timer went off, and he set the bowl down and took his precious brownies out of the oven. They did look awesome. And he was adorably psyched and proud of himself. It took me a minute to convince him he needed to let the brownies cool off before cutting into them. I took his hand and led him into the living room, trying to reassure him that his brownies would be fine for a minute.

"I'm always going to wonder if our sex is hot enough for you", I said.

"Hot enough? The first time we had sex I think I yelled every foul word in the English language, and some words in languages I don't even know.. When I came I saw angels `n shit. And you somehow manage to surprise me every single time. If it gets any hotter I'll be dead before my next birthday."

I almost laughed. He was standing close to me and said "Mmmmm...I remember that Honey" and moaned, in a soft sexy voice that sent shivers down my spine, a tingling sensation down south, and made me want to fall backwards with him on top of me, hard as a rock and thrusting vigorously. The words were followed by a wink. No one else seemed to have heard him or saw his wink or the way we looked at each other with longing. I thought I was going to have to scrape my tongue off the ground.

He talked about his dreams, and his plans for the future. We wanted the same things... we had the same hopes and desires. All of those things were FAR from conventional or acceptable norms...and we weren't just agreeing with each other... we were completing each others sentences and completing the big picture. We had more in common than I ever realized. And I found that I loved him even more than I ever did before, now that I knew so much more. There were a couple of times I actually cried... because there were things he said about his life and feelings that he never said to me in person.

As soon as the door was shut, I started hyperventilating. It took about a minute or so to calm down. I put my purse on the edge of the sink and opened it. Normally, this would be about the time I would freshen up... eat a mint, spray a bit of perfume, put on more lipgloss. And as I rumaged through my bag, I stopped myself. "Don't bother. You've lost him" I heard a voice inside my head say. So I closed my purse, put the toilet seat down, sat down, put my face in my hands, and cried for about ten minutes. Just when I thought I wouldn't stop, I did. I splashed cold water on my face, dried off, and walked back out into the living room I didn't really want to go back into. I felt like I was dying a little bit more with every step.

"Are you ok? Please talk to me. Did I upset you?" I asked.

"Not at all", he said with his hands still covering his face. I reached over and peeled his hands from his face... I wanted to see his eyes and know whether or not he hated me or still loved me at this point.

His eyes were brimming with tears but he was actually smiling. He was crying and laughing at the same time.

"You're happy about this?" I couldn't help but smile at the sweet, happy expression on his face. It shocked the hell out of me, but I was definitely looking at a smile.

I thought about the stories I've heard... about women trapping men with pregnancy. Men doing the honorable thing by marrying the woman just because he got her pregnant. And couples who didn't marry because of pregnancy, but the man still working numerous jobs to help support the child he regrets ever doing his part to conceive, while the woman enjoys the monetary reward.

I didn't want to become one of those women, or even seem like I was one of them. This child was not ready to have one of his own. I loved him enough to accept that. And to accept that he still had a life of experiences and lessons he had yet to have and learn. And apparently... he had more thighs to conquer.

What was that about no sex for two weeks? Ah, fuck it.

He smiled as if he heard my thought, clearly pleased with himself.

He slipped under the covers of the bed, and patted the side next to him with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. Such a playful boy. I slipped into bed next to him, on my side so that we were facing the same direction and "spooning"... our favorite position. He held me tightly close to him, smelling my hair and giving me little kisses on my neck and shoulders. Not even a minute passed before I could feel him and knew he was ready for anything. I missed him, and wanted him like I always did. So I lifted up my chemise and reached behind me to guide him to where he could find release. But he surprised me... gently grasping my hand and wrapping his arm around me, cuddling me instead.

"I love you so much Care" he whispered. "I always have."

"You're so beautiful", he said, caressing my cheek.

"Thank you", I said shyly.

"You don't need to thank the truth", he said.

We somehow managed to tear away from each other, after a long make-out session in the car. I would soon have to go inside, as it was getting late.

While I was buttoning my shirt and fixing my hair, he sang to me. He had a beautiful voice. No one had ever sang to me before... it made me smile and giggle.

And just like that, "That's the Recipe for Making Love" by Harry Connick Jr. became one of my favorite romantic songs.

Copyright © Carrie Batcheller, 2024, All rights reserved.