Quiver by Tobsha Learner

hated that. Adrian says that what you see is what you get. He thinks people invent trouble for themselves. He’s a pragmatist, my Adrian. That’s why I haven’t told him about some things—you know, like my second sight. He wouldn’t understand.
    That afternoon, I was just in the middle of putting on a customer’s clay face pack when an image suddenly came into my mind from the night before. Adrian’s hand in the dark. I had the definite impression that he was wearing a signet ring on his little finger. And I’m sure it had a ruby in it. The more I stood there with this vision in my head, the more convinced I was. I even let the mask dry over the customer’s mouth by accident. The strange thing is that Adrian doesn’t wear a signet ring, and we made love in total darkness. Maybe it’s because I’m all shook up and jittery today. I hope it’s hormonal. I hope it’s because the chart worked and I conceived.
    I found an old war medal behind the chest of drawers later that week. It was made of copper with an embossed boar’s head onit. Adrian thinks it’s from Sicily, from the Second World War. I remember our neighbor telling me that there used to be an old Italian living here before us, that he died in the house. I guess the medal must have belonged to him. I put it in with the wedding dress.
    Last night was weird again. I’m getting ready for bed, when he suddenly appears behind me. Strange because I’ve just left him in the study watching TV. So there he is, close enough to feel his breath on my shoulder, and he asks me in this deep voice to put on my corset. The one we used at the beginning, for fun. He’s got this look in his eyes which means business, so I slip it on and add black stockings for effect, but no underpants. He tells me to lie on the bed. Again I feel as if I’m with a stranger. As if all the familiarity, scent, gesture, even the way he walks toward me, is foreign. I lie down on the bed and he turns the lamp so that it’s shining fully down onto my crotch. He reaches under the bed and pulls out a small bowl full of hot water, an old-fashioned shaving brush and a razor.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I want you clean, like a young girl.”
    Shadows fall across the wall, and for a moment I don’t recognize the short black figure crouching over my slender form. He begins to soap me up. Foam covers my cunt. Carefully, with the precision of a doctor, he scrapes the hair off with the razor. Over the top toward my sex mouth, strips of wispy blond hair fall away. I watch fascinated, feeling the air across my newfound nakedness. Then hoisting me up with the help of a pillow, he begins to work on the outer lips, transforming them into virginal pink innocence. The shape of me emerging like a seashell, the ripples, the contours, the ridge of my clitoris rising undeniably. The heat of the lamp turning my thighs rosy.
    He stands just inches away from my face. Staring into his eyes I am hypnotized. There is that smell of aftershave again. He drops to the floor, his face hidden. He runs his hands up my legs, between my lips. I can feel his breath as he blows gently. He moves my legs farther apart. He looks down at me, his eyes burning holes through my body. “Look,” he says and holds the mirror up so I can see myself. Pink, innocent, naked, I glisten like a split peach. “
Che bella, bellissima Madonna
,” he says.
    Shocked, I freeze. This isn’t his voice. This isn’t Adrian. “Kneel,” he says. I kneel over his face. My breasts fall heavily out of the corset. He takes me into his mouth, licking furiously. I am just about to come when he sits up and swings me over his knee and begins to spank me hard, the sound of each slap echoing around the bedroom. I try to move away but he has me firmly gripped between his knees. The heat from each spank rises up in between each smack.
    “You’re hurting me!”
    “
Che?
”
    “Adrian, you’re hurting me!” I feel my flesh redden and grow hot. It begins