THE SECRET KISS

Writing Prompt: When I Awoke the Next Morning

The millisecond she succumbed to consciousness in the morning, the guilt and shame flooded into her psyche with tsunami force. She pulled the covers over her head and decided to stay in bed all day.

How could this have happened? Had she no will to defy temptation? However, the situation had presented itself and was too intoxicating to resist. And how wonderful it had been. A tactile and sensory extravaganza. Smooth to the touch, soft on her lips, sweetness beyond compare. The heady feeling of hedonism.

She had denied herself for so long; it made it even more sweet and daring. All she had to do was reach out and grab it—and oh, she did. Once begun, her body awash in bliss—a pleasure she wished could go on for eternity. The sweetness, the smoothness, filling her both body and soul.

Control. Control. That was it. Her conscience was like a boot camp Army Sergeant. WRONG! Don’t think of such things. Good girls don’t do things like that. Good girls don’t have improper thoughts, eat bad foods, get fat, get Bs, disobey the will of a higher power. Good girls resist all temptation, step in line, perfect, always perfect.

But she slipped up again. Not perfect. Given in to the excesses of her appetite and the sin of the secular world. Beside her lay remaining evidence of her sin. She wanted to lick it up to recall the sweetness but instead she jumped out of bed and began ripping off the sheets with a crazed fervor. Had to get rid of it so no one would know.

Shredded bed sheets about the room, she gazed at herself in the small, purloined mirror. Ran it up and down the length of her body. Stopped at her stomach. Was that a roll? She pinched it—sure enough—it was a roll of fat. Nothing was going right.

There was a soft knock at the door.

“C’mon Honey, time to go.”

She didn’t want to leave. Couldn’t face anyone. Digging through her drawers she found something that would make her look invisible. Shuffling down the hall in large sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt with the hood covering her face, she slowly entered the large room.

“Good morning Kerry,” they all said in weary unison.

“Good morning,” she mumbled.

“Anything you’d like to discuss,” asked their leader, a woman who would pretend not to judge her but would.

“No,” she replied. She was thinking about later in the day. When she would recommit her sin. When desire would trump control. When, alone, she would indulge her secret pleasure, something all her own.

Her counselor led her into the weight room. She wasn’t supposed to look but she did. 88 pounds—her weight was up. BAD! Yet, hand in her pocket, she touched a Hershey Kiss like it was her lover and dreamed of their secret rendezvous to come.