Indigo and Other Shades of Blue

When you dream, sometimes you wish that you could stay, and live your whole life that way--sleeping, dreaming of times set in better memories. And sometimes, your wish is never fulfilled and you wake up to another gloomy day. Indigo had a transition like the latter, waking up with sweat dripping down her temple, and her phone awkwardly stuck to the side of her smooth, pudgy stomach. Even with the window cracked, the heat had her nearly baked her from the inside. With a pit in her stomach, she curls up as sunshine seeps through her window.

Another day, another day. Another day, another day.

Or so she thought.

Indigo didn't expect much from her day but getting fired was something she didn't foresee.

Tossing off her shoes, Indigo dropped to her lone leather love-seat with a loud squeak at the furniture braced her weight.

This was her morning routine.

Only tonight, things were different.

She was fired, over a stupid, petty thing. She was a disposable asset that she knew. But being fired over something as small arriving late despite notification that she'd be delayed.

Today, almanbahis adres she took the subway to go to work like every other day, but today it had been delayed for whatever reason.

It was so ridiculous. It wasn't fair.

But that's what life is like, right?

Everything sucks and you have to live with it until you die.

"This fucking sucks." She muttered, sinking deeper in the plushness of her loveseat.

Not after a year of moving to the city, Indigo was jobless and living in an apartment that next month would be too expensive for her to afford. Being a failure, letting down the people believe in her. The feeling of despair set in, her nose stung as she tried to choke back her emotions.

Tears trickled down her round cheeks, her tightly coiled hair fell in her large, dark eyes. She threw her pillow in frustration, screaming until her face flushed a slight maroon. There she was, an adult crying over something that happens to everyone, unable to do much in the face of her circumstances.

"Stupid celebrities, stupid fucking crowded trains, stupid company culture, stupid almanbahis giriş fucking nine to fives! Fuck everything!"

After her outburst, she rushed up to her bedroom--her footstep heavy, yet with purpose took her to her destination. She flips out of her black, suffocating pencil skirt and her frilly white blouse, revealing her mix-match set of intimates. In her underwear, she takes a CD with a young man on the cover. He's handsome, in a gothic way--he's covered in tattoos in varying muted colors. In white letters, spell out the artist's name.

"Sapphire, huh?"

Getting comfortable, she turned on her music, humming along with groovy bass as she looked into her drawer of 'fun' things. It was her first time listening to the song but it had her grooving along despite the melancholy lyrics.

Indigo assured herself that she would look for work tomorrow--for now, she just wanted to feel good. She wanted to put her troubles aside in the pursuit of a bit of pleasure.

She switched on her small, cordless silver bullet--she quietly sucks on her short, plump digits, lubricating them enough almanbahis yeni giriş to rub her aching slit underneath her black, cherry-printed panties. Her russet skin sprouted goosebumps as her toes curled in relaxing ecstasy. With some tension released, she relishes in her own touch as she grinds against the toy.

"You were good for this world--your kindness, your soul."

The smooth, cool bullet against her small, pink nub as she ground against her own flesh in a feverish stroke--the music in the background filled her ears whilst her mind swam--the man's smooth, baritone voice seemed to caress her from deep within. Sultry, wanting, unwavering. It was as if his voice possessed her in its grasp, as the song being sung for an invitation for its grasps.

"I recall your warm touch in my deepest of dreams."

A gasp leaves her mouth, in tangent with the building climax of the song, her knee buckle. The feeling of orgasm rushes down her trembling legs, feeling herself buck underneath the electrifying pressure.

"That act of kindness was enough It was all I needed to remember you."

Sweaty and spent, Indigo flops onto her side as the next song plays, one much much slower and understated. Her breathing becomes labored, her chest rising up and down slowly.

"We'll meet in my dreams, the only place you live?"

Eventually, she drifts away to her deep slumber.