Ivy University Grounds – August 27, 2013
“Where are we going?” Phoenix Wright asked in confusion as his beautiful new soulmate, whom he’d just fallen madly in love with at first sight in the University Library, earlier that afternoon, tugged him by the hand and led him into the dense woods which were behind the school.
“Shhh.” Dahlia Hawthorne placed a finger to her rosebud lips and batted her long-lashed doe eyes at him, still keeping his hand in hers in a surprisingly vice grip. “I want to find us a quiet place where we can be alone, Feenie.”
“Feenie huh? I think I like you calling me that. I’m going to call you Dollie then!”
“We should be far enough now…” she stopped abruptly and dropped her parasol. Then, with an impulsive swiftness and fervency that belied her demure disposition, she lunged at him, crushing her soft lips against his in a searing kiss that knocked the breath out of his lungs.
Phoenix hadn’t ever been kissed like this before. Dahlia’s expert lips were hot and demanding, and her tongue was forceful and commanding as it twined with his, fueling passions within him that he hadn’t even known existed till then.
Up until then, he’d only shared a few chaste kisses – the rare French variety among them – with girls during spin the bottle games when he’d been in high school…but never like this!
At 21-years-old, the shy, awkward, gawky Phoenix Wright was still a virgin.
Well, not on purpose! He’d had sex plenty of times…technically…just never with an actual partner.
Well, not unless you counted Thumbelina and her Four Sisters…
However, his primal instincts told him that was about to change really fast!
That had been no ordinary kiss.
Dahlia’s lusty eyes met his, silently asking him the question her moistened, parted lips still hadn’t uttered.
Suddenly those same lips were against his ear, kissing, as she whispered, “Do you love me, Feenie?”
He blushed but smiled, extending his arms out to embrace her. She wrapped her arms around his back. Trust. Surrender. Yes, he could give her that.
“Yes, Dollie. I trust you. And I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you!”
Sure that had only been half an hour ago. But when you met The One, you just knew, right?
A deep kiss was his reward and a little shock of pain when she nipped his bottom lip.
She looked as pleased as the cat who’d swallowed the canary with his answer. One finger delicately outlined, then ran over the front of his jeans.
“And you want to be with me,” she commanded, rather than asked.
“Yes.” He answered the command anyway, reveling in the pleasure of her skilled touch on that part of his anatomy that so far, nobody else had ever become familiar with. “Do you love me, Dollie?”
She smiled and deftly unzipped his fly while she continued to touch him now over his underwear, letting him fill her entire palm.
“Feenie,” she breathed, her voice heavy with need. “No more questions. Just…touch me. Please.”
He ran his clumsy hands over her bare shoulders, trailing them downward slowly, nervously, over her delicate throat and collarbone. He placed slow, gentle kisses from her chin, down her neck, stopping in the front of her throat to nibble gently, slowly working his way downward, until she impatiently took one of his hands and placed it against her breast, pressing into his hand, while with her other, she continued her delightful handiwork, dimly impressed that he managed to grow even harder still.
She tilted her head up to regard him. “Just one more question.”
Closing his eyes, he tried to think clearly as she drew circles lazily with a finger over his manhood, driving him to near madness. Teasingly. Tantalizingly. Relentlessly.
Dahlia smiled smugly to herself. The fool looked like he was in complete submission already, and they were still only in the junior high level, above-the-clothes groping stage!
It was so easy, it was pathetic. God, she wanted to kill him. Well, first screw him, then kill him.
But first things first.
“Are you willing to show not just tell me?” She finally asked, her voice dripping with a buttery seduction even freakin’ Mother Theresa couldn’t resist. “Prove to me how much I mean to you?”
“Yes. I’d do whatever it takes,” he answered breathlessly. “Tell me what I’ve got to do to please you. Dollie, anything you say, I’ll do…”
A sinful smile broke across her face. “That’s my boy.”
Wait, what did I just agree to?
She slid her hand under the waistband of his boxers then, and ran her tormenting fingers over his bare, rock-hard erection, increasing the pressure of her touch, and at that moment the full meaning of it all hit him then and his eyes widened. “You mean…show you…in that way? Right here? Right now?”
“Just…please.” She bucked her hips against his as she squeezed his cock, as if yearning for contact.
“OK,” he gasped as she continued to stroke him while grinding against him. “But wait, about this necklace…?”
Before he could ask for some clarification about that last pesky little question, she took both his hands and placed them on her milky white breasts, pulling down the front of her dress so he could see and touch them all their glory, and all words died in his throat.
He’d been determined to appear all worldly and experienced, even feign some sort of cool detachment, as if he’d been in carnal situations like these dozens of times before.
But all that faded away the moment he touched her skin.
Then something not only stirred in him, but it took over his thinking. The rest of his world became an unimportant blur that was banished into the far recesses of his mind. The only thing that mattered was touching her more, kissing her mouth, her stomach, her breasts. He tried to be gentle with her clothing, not to rip the lace, but it was hard. His nervous, blundering hands were used to handling charcoal pencils and paintbrushes, rather than tiny clasps. But then instinct somehow took over.
“Oh Dollie,” he said with a sly grin. “You’ve made things very easy with these skirts.”
Her dress went up and her hose went down. She grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him back up her body. He smiled at her attempt to take control, allowing her to pull off his shirt then helped her shuck his pants as well until they were both standing completely bare to one another.
He gazed at her perfect naked body in awe.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered dazedly, as though hypnotized.
She backed up against a tree, then crooked her finger at him, asking him to join her. He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, bracing her against the trunk. He shifted his hips and his erection hit just the right spot to send her into oblivion. She gasped and thrust toward him, willing him to grind against her just a little harder. But he stilled. Heat flooded between her legs and she ground against his hips. A moan escaped her and his eyes flared with desire at the sound. Then, acting on pure primitive reflex, he swiftly entered her, filling her so suddenly she let out a startled cry as he surprised her with long, slow strokes. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. His love-struck gaze was fixed on hers. She wanted to shield herself from the intensity but couldn’t seem to pull away. His hands roamed, over her back and bottom. He was everywhere.
Phoenix’s body tingled with excitement. He was flying, spinning, unsure of where she started and he ended. Waves of pleasure rolled over him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, holding her down when gravity ceased to exist.
Her free hand grabbed onto his head, threading through his hair, holding him tight while she moaned and writhed against him.
She gasped for air as the tremors came over her body. She was vaguely aware of his voice, whispering words of love. When she came back down to earth, she clung to him, kissing his face and neck. She pulled back and gave him a sultry glare, her eyes half-hooded, a satisfied smile on her lips.
“I want you to keep that necklace as a token of our love,” she purred, running her long nails up and down his back. “So you have something to always remember this moment with.”
“I promise, Dollie,” he swore, his eyes bright with love. “I love you. This meeting was fate.”
“Yes,” she whispered, burying her head against his neck so he wouldn’t see her knowing smirk. “Fate.”
(Former) Wright and Co. Law Offices – April 30, 2019
Phoenix Wright lay there on his sofa in the apartment which used to be his law office, an empty bottle of wine dangling from his fingertips. Lifting his head, he raised the bottle to his lips and let the last few drops of the blood-colored liquid trickle down his throat, before letting it fall aimlessly to the ground, where it joined the half dozen other empties scattered haphazardly around what used to be his living room.
He’d never felt more desolate or alone in his life.
His friends were as vapid as the winter snow was cold. Their love extended only as far as social media posts, stopping abruptly at the pixelated screen. Their smiles were little yellow faces that stopped coming when his world had fallen apart nearly two weeks ago. From their posts, their lives were one constant party, wine, and meals in fancy establishments. Every post fed his loneliness, hacked at the tenuous emotional connections he nursed. He used to only feel the cruel bite of isolation in crowds, but now it followed him home, an ever-present reminder that he was a failure on every front.
He felt dead inside. Numb. Lost. Angry. Bitter. Afraid. But above all, lonely.
Loneliness sounds like such an easy thing to fix: find a friend, reach out to someone who cares. Every time I try they recoil, unwilling to offer an olive branch of hope to the social leper, the disgraced, forging attorney. And so my anxiety deepens. There are nights it takes a hold of me. All I can do in those long black hours is find an enclosed place to shake until the tears subside and I can focus on the dawn light, breathe, and drink water. It isn’t simply a lack of company, though that’s part of it for sure, it’s a black hole that grows more powerful with every social snub. It threatens to swallow every part of me, bad and good until all that’s left is a human-shaped shell too numb to feel the pain anymore.
He’d gone through several depths of hell in his 27 years. Endured and survived the most super-heroics of pain and obstacles. Fire extinguishers to the head. Boot to the head. Falling off 40-foot high burning bridges. Ingesting poison. All that had been a cakewalk in comparison to this…wretched emptiness inside of him.
No job. No friends. No money.
He not only had no direction anymore, but he also had no mission. He entirely lacked purpose now. He had nothing left to look forward to.
Save for that all-too-familiar, cripplingly, achingly lonesomeness …
If there had been a special someone in his life, it undoubtedly would have helped fill that hollow emptiness in his heart.
He laughed mirthlessly at the notion.
Special Someone. Who am I am, Pearls? The ladies aren’t exactly lining up at the door of a disbarred former defense lawyer who doesn’t even know where his next paycheck is coming from. The last time I was in a relationship with anyone was six years ago, with that duplicitous, deceptive, Iris. But of course, before Iris, there was her demonic doppelganger, Dahlia. That fucking crazy-ass bitch!
Dahlia Hawthorne. Beautiful. Irresistible. Deadly. She’d known him back when he’d been an unassuming, trusting, naïve, 21-year-old art student who’d worn his heart on his sleeve, instead of the cynical, jaded, hardhearted man he was now.
He wondered what she would think of his transformation now, from innocent, pink-sweater-wearing cry-baby into a weathered, beaten, nearly unrecognizable hobo.
Probably laugh.
He sometimes still thought he could hear her chilling, soulless laughter at times, even from beyond the grave.
Nevertheless, that beautiful black widow had turned him into a man. Just an hour after meeting her. That had been how long it had taken for him to succumb to her wiles.
What a slut.
He wasn’t sure if that was a more aptly suited description for her…or himself.
Nevertheless, he could vouch that said crazy bitch had been even crazier in the sack, from just that one time they’d been together.
Not that he liked to think about it. It wasn’t as though he’d planned on being a switch hitter between two siblings.
Yet that was exactly what had happened.
The venomous flower had deflowered him. Then, not knowing the difference, a few months later, he, in turn, had deflorated her innocent, untouched, identical twin sister, having had no inkling that it wasn’t the same Dollie all along.
Phoenix pondered the notion that he indeed could have gotten the last laugh, in the end, had he managed to let his homicidal maniac of an ex know that since he’d felt so blessedly fortunate a beautiful, perfect, angel had fallen for a bumbling, dorky virgin like him, that she hadn’t needed to go slumming and offer her alleged chaste, “pure” body to him in exchange for any guaranteed favors.
His dumb, lame, love-struck ass would have agreed to anything she’d wanted, regardless!
Dahlia hadn’t wanted to take chances, apparently. After all, she’d had to ensure he’d take that fated necklace off her hands somehow….
He’d been such a complete and utter patsy! And a sniveling, pussy–whipped idiot, to boot! To think he’d shed public tears, nearly been incarnated, and swallowed poison for that vile, evil, soulless monster!
Good God. Was it any wonder he still had trust issues with women?
Gatewater Hotel – June 28, 2023
The darkness swirled around his curled form on the hotel bed, tendrils of inkling bleak reminders of his solitude. The silence echoing in his ears was the constant white noise that never shut up. His head swam in the fire burning inside, the only smoldering embers of a time where there had been other presences with him, around him, in him. But now, the void had been slowly filled with a cold, howling storm of fear that refused to ever let up. He was completely and utterly alone in his mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in the world.
How was it possible to feel still this way, while laying on that luxury hotel mattress, with a sated, lush, warm feminine body next to him?
The events leading up to this moment had hardly been unpleasant…
Two hours earlier…
Mmmm. He was doing something delicious to her mouth. His kiss was demanding. He rocked his body against hers, his tongue reaching into her mouth like he just couldn’t get close enough to her. When he stopped it left her panting and gasping for air.
The corner of his mouth curled, then he yanked up her shirt and clawed her bra in half. Her breasts tumbled out. He stared at them until her peaks hardened under his heated sapphire gaze and tingled in anticipation. She squirmed, willing him to take one between his lips. As though reading her mind, his mouth slid to one breast, lapped at the stiffened bud softly, then stopped. She arched her back but stifled a moan.
“Do you want more?” he drawled with a knowing expression.
She wanted to smack his smirking face. “Yes.”
With a greedy glitter in his eye, he moved to the other breast, sliding his tongue around her nipple before suckling it gently between his soft lips.
She may have stopped breathing because she could no longer feel anything but his sweet caresses. A fever burned, starting in her stomach then spreading down to her core.
He roughly hiked up her skirt around her waist. His fingers dipped under her panties and between her folds. Pleasure rocked through her body until she thought she might come apart. She gasped. Then in a flash, her underwear was gone and he thrust into her wetness. She hadn’t even heard him unzip his pants. All it took was one fierce drive, while he brought one hand between their bucking bodies and pressed on her throbbing clit, and she was over the edge. A few minutes later, she landed back on earth.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” he whispered and bit her earlobe sharply.
She yelped, working up to another sweet release. With one big hand placed on the small of her back, pinning her in place, his thrusts were ruthless now. Her body jerked back and forth with the strength of his movements. The bed banged against the wall. Their bodies slapped together, luscious and wet. It was raw, animal-like, and unchained, better than she’d expected.
Her moans and cries grew louder, more desperate, as the pleasure mounted. She was on fire. She couldn’t contain it anymore, she was going to explode. But he flipped her over seamlessly and continued slamming into her over and over, working her with enough force to make her teeth clatter. This was no gentle coupling. This was wild, unhinged ecstasy.
God, she loved it!
Stars studded her vision as she cried out for him.
“Oh, Phoenix!”
“Oh… baby! You’re so hot!”
“I want to hear you scream my name!”
She looked at him then, amber eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Say my name, Phoenix!”
“Ngh!” What was her name? Destiny? Charity? He couldn’t remember now, it’d been at least two hours and four bottles of wine ago!
Somehow I don’t think screaming out ‘Oh…you!’ is going to win me any points here…dammit!
“Can’t think right now…you’re so good…baby!”
“Oh Christ, I’m almost there!”
My Lord, is she ever loud…I hope the neighbors have earplugs…
“Me too!” He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as rapture overcame him.
There was a short, euphoric explosion behind his eyelids before he collapsed on top of her. Then everything faded to black as he passed out, mercifully managing to avoid any further confrontations from this woman with whom he had shared a night of passionate intimacy with.
One whose name he couldn’t have recalled if his life had depended on it.
A few hours later…
Phoenix rolled over, blinked, and saw the red digital numbers on the clock next to him read 4:00.
He’d only been asleep for two hours.
He could have spent the night. There was nothing for him to go home to. His 12-year-old daughter, the one light in his otherwise bleak existence, wouldn’t be there. She was away at a magic camp. She’d won the two-month stay from her school, as her magician’s act had landed her first place in the talent show.
Therefore, if he’d wanted to, he could fall back into restful slumber, in the manner of the happily purring, satisfied woman next to him.
He looked at the long ebony tresses fanning out on the pillow around her, feeling grateful for the short-term bliss they’d shared that evening.
But, like all the others before her, she’d only been a temporary distraction, who’d only been able to warm his bed, but not his heart.
None of them ever did.
While he’d even felt momentary affection for the stunning flight attendant he’d met earlier that evening at the bar, it wasn’t enough to make him want to stay and endure the awkward morning after with this intimate stranger.
He had to get out of there.
Stealthily he crept out of bed and reached on the ground for his pants. Years of experience in similar situations had given him the ability to slip away as silently as a ninja at moments like these. It was all for the best. She was only in town on a layover for the night, and he knew he’d never see her again.
He heard her voice just as he reached for the doorknob, even though her back was turned.
“I know you forgot my name,” she murmured drowsily. “But for the record, stud, it’s Rhoda Teneiro. Thank you for flying with IFly Airlines. We hope you enjoyed the service.”
A slight smile tugged at his lips. This one seemed to have a sense of humor. And she knew the game – there was no indignant cries or pleas to stay, or even an effort to raise her delectable body from the mattress. She knew the score. He respected that and was thankful to her for it.
“Goodnight, Phoenix.”
“I shan’t be able to get enough of the friendly skies,” he chuckled in response, before quietly exiting the room. He swallowed against the unexpected lump in his throat. “Goodbye, Rhoda.”
Comments