"Dannielle! Come down for dinner!"
Hanna's voice again. Nice of her to think that nothing had really changed, that she could stand the sight of her. Lucas wasn't so congenial. Every moment spent in his eye was rigid with disdain. Not that she blamed him. For a man who dreamed of raising a respectable daughter, someone who wouldn't conform to society's sexual tendencies, she was an unwilling failure.
"Your father's still at work." Hanna was outside her door now, speaking their native language. Trying to comfort her.
"Just leave it outside," Danielle said.
"You can't just stay in there, honey," Hanna tried the handle, but it was locked, "I haven't seen you in days. Your... friends are worried. I'm worried."
"It's better this way."
"Just come down."
Danielle didn't answer at first. She'd be lying if she denied that she didn't miss her mother. The woman had tried at least, and she hadn't fallen for Danielle like everyone else did. Because they were related, or perhaps she kept it hidden. No, Danielle thought and hugged herself tighter. She couldn't even curl into a foetal position anymore, no matter how she wished she could, her boobs just got in the way.
"Fine. Give me a minute," Danielle said.
"Thank you," Hanna sighed and the floorboards creaked with her retreat. Danielle later trod downstairs and into the kitchen, two plates laid out and piled with nostalgia. Her stomach growled.
"You haven't been eating well," Hanna said and nodded to a seat opposite her.
"No," Danielle pushed the food around. She didn't want to fuel her body, but it seemed incapable of malnourishment. After several days of a minimalistic diet, not an ounce of muscle was lost, and her curves continued to persevere. She sat a foot from the table, lest her breasts be crushed, and the chair was overshadowed by her rear. None of her clothes fit right. The best she managed was to yank a stretched out sweater over her chest and pray that her gym pants wouldn't tear.
"Honey, please don't starve yourself," Hanna kept her eyes low and away. She darted glances at times, but never lingered, until now. Though her curves remained steadfast, Danielle's face had lost its fullness. The cheeks had hollowed and a coldness surrounded her eyes, as if joy had become a foreign entity.
"Okay. Didn't work anyway," Danielle muttered.
"You're... different. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Oh, dad made it very clear that there is."
"Danielle," Hanna said her name like a warning, or a stranger's. That's right. They didn't know each other anymore. She couldn't remember the last time she shared anything with her.
"Whatever." Danielle ate in ravenous silence. The plate, stacked high with her favourite dishes as a child, lasted minutes and she left soon after with a whispered 'thank you'. Back in her room, she paused in front of her mirror, grimaced at her body, and laid on the bed. Her phone was in a drawer beside her, a constant temptation. Holly and Casey must be worried since she skipped school without a word.
Or maybe they just wanted to fuck? She'd overheard her mother on the phone with Tara and Violet on multiple occasions and, what little she could grasp of their end of the conversation, they seemed desperate to have her back. The others had visited sometimes. She didn't see them. Just the thought of her friends threatened her already perilous self-control.
It wasn't the isolation or tension in her own home that hurt. No, the abstinence made her insides ache, like she was missing something important. She woke night after night with sticky sheets, which she cleaned covertly, or to the sight of her penis raising like a gross sunrise. It hung past her knees when unrestrained, despite her balls forcing it to curve. She did whatever she could to avoid stimulating it.
But there were times where it was impossible. Even adjusting her legs while sitting or lying down made her yearn for more. Or showering... that was the worst. Danielle would be lying if she said it didn't feel wonderful to stand under hot water, to feel it cascade over her rigid form, or how it bounded off her boobs and butt. So often, she would bring a stress ball with her to avoid stroking herself.
She almost succumbed three days ago. The memory of being so close, on the precipice of orgasm when her father banged on the door twisted her stomach in knots. And made her nipples leak in longing. Was it the idea of cumming, or the prospect that she could be caught doing it?
She didn't want the answer. Danielle hadn't showered since, yet her hair felt silky when she ran it through her fingers, and she couldn't detect any foul odours. It was ridiculous. Everyone spent their lives striving for beauty, inventing products or exercising, and she had it handed to her without trying. Some ruined their lives just to look beautiful, or became Bimbos to achieve a different state.
Danielle touched her face and traced a cheek to her plump lips. They tingled against her fingers, as if agitated, tired of being without the kiss of her many partners. Holly was so sweet and gentle, insistent but patient, while Casey was all passion, a wild beast seeking to slake its desires. The throb against her leg shattered her reverie.
The next day, Saturday, her mother was back at her door, "Danielle? Are you up?"
"Yeah," Danielle answered from her desk. She paused the game she'd started in hopes of distracting herself, but it hadn't worked thus far. Every woman she saw sent a pang through her.
"There's a housewarming party across the street. Remember the Kales? They moved away a few weeks back."
"Yeah."
"Well, the rest of the neighbourhood are going over to welcome them. Would you like to go?"
"Not really."
"Danielle," Hanna's sigh transgressed reason to brush against Danielle's neck, driving shards of guilt down her spine. What for? She had no reason to feel guilty after how her parents acted. If they'd just talked with her more, tried to explain what the heck her body was going through, then maybe Kelly wouldn't have... or Joan for that matter.
"Please? You haven't left the house in a week. It's just a little party. Just stop by, say hello, then you can go."
"I don't have anything 'decent' to wear," Danielle said. Anything to distract herself. Surely, in an open space with so many people, the women wouldn't react the way they usually did.
"I'm sure you'll find something," Hanna said, her smile audible in her voice, "I'll meet you there. Don't take too long."
Her mother was right; it was a little party. Danielle expected to hear music, her neighbours talking, laughter and kids squealing as they played together. Instead, the sounds were damp, muffled as if she were on the other side of a massive fence. Trickles of laughter reached her, and the occasional hiss of a grill. She saw a family from down the road leaving, red-faced. They glanced up and saw her.
"Not another one," the father muttered, though his wife seemed captivated. Danielle didn't linger and headed to the door. The two were talking now, with the woman insisting that they stay a little longer. Their child didn't say a word, simply gawked at Danielle as she stood on the porch, waiting to be saved.
"Sorry! Sorry! I'll be right there," called a jovial voice. Danielle relaxed at its sound, conjuring pictures of a better time, when she was young and her mom tucked her in at night. Or bleary memories of getting piggy-back rides with her dad. They hadn't done anything like that since they left Sweden.
The door opened and jerked Danielle to reality, "Hello... oh my!"
