Blackout by Chris Myers Page B

mean to.”
    “It’s okay, sugar. You’re under too much stress. I hope your memories return, so that you may be at peace like your mom finally found. You should remember your mom. It’s healthy.”
    But I don’t. Thinking of her only opens a desert, empty and barren.
    I finish eating and sit staring outside. It’s like my brain was wiped clean when it comes to Mama, yet I remember Dare and most of the times we spent together.
    “Go have fun with your friend.” Lulu shoos me, breaking into my reverie. “I have a hot date with a young doctor.” She glances at the TV and bumps into the table on her way over to it. I consider helping her, but she wouldn’t like it.
    I pack Lulu’s and my breakfast bowls into the dishwasher and kick its door closed.
    Kami has already texted, telling me she’s out on the sand, ready to beat me at beach tennis.
    The navy and white bikini that Dare picked out lies on my bed. With hesitation, I slip into it. He’s right. It’s a good color for me. I tie my scarf around my waist—very beachy and less revealing.
    The French book sticks out of my bag, so I shove it back in. For whatever reason, I feel drawn to its pages. After witnessing Dare manhandle Shannon, I wonder what he’s like as a lover. Heat flares between my legs. I want to date again, even after my disastrous courtship with Henri.
    I lather my skin in SPF 50, walk outside, grab a beach chair and umbrella, and sway past the sea oats floating in the breeze.
    Kami is texting on her phone. She gives me a nod but continues fingering on the pad one-handed.
    I open The Story of O . The novel starts out tame enough until the boyfriend drops off O at the manor where she has to dress to sexually please men. Why would Francois give a book like this to Mama? Was she into having multiple men?
    Parts of the story stir the most primal desire within me. Others sicken me.
    I glimpse Kami out of the corner of my eye, hoping she doesn’t ask me what the story is about. The graphic sex and abuse shortly follow after O enters the manor. I want to stop, but my eyes stick to the page. Did Mama read this or was this what Francois wanted?
    Women bathe and prepare O. A man measures her for a collar and bracelets. She’s then presented to four men, one of which is her lover Rene. She stands naked and blindfolded in front of them. The men take her. One forces himself from behind while another fills her mouth.
    A sudden ache spreads in my stomach, my head throbs, and spots scatter at the edge of my vision. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, expanding my abdomen. Flashes of images, smells, and sounds repeat in nauseating cycles, and then comes the crimson washing over the scene in broad brush strokes.
    I practice what Miles taught me, but my breathing quickens and my pulse throbs in my head. It’s almost worse than it was before I left.
    Nothingness devours me.
    Kami shakes my arm, diverting my attention. “Must be a pretty good book.”
    My erratic breathing threatens to take me under again. I try the calming technique again. “How long was I out?”
    “I didn’t notice. Probably a few seconds.”
    I don’t want to think about what this book is suggesting, but yet I want to know who Mama is. I put the book down to give it a rest. “What are a dom and a submissive?”
    She laughs. “Didn’t you read 50 Shades of Grey ? A few years ago, it was the hot read for the summer.”
    “What’s that?” I check the publishing date on Mama’s French book again. It’s 1954, long before she was born. Was Francois older, more experienced? Is that what she liked when she was my age?
    Kami giggles some more. “It’s about this guy who likes to tie up women and slap them around, smack their bujus with a whip.”
    “Buju?” I’ve never heard of that.
    She chuckles. “VaJay, poontang, pussy.”
    “Oh.” Despite the summer heat, a shudder trembles in my core, and my VaJay clenches as if slapped. “And that’s supposed to be fun?”
    She