Today.
It was the butterfly's fault. That's what Donna kept thinking as her lover brought her to orgasm. Bert had been working her towards the finish line for a few minutes now. He was skillful and methodical, pushing her buttons, nudging her higher and higher. Donna pulled against the restraints, happy to have something to strain against. She could have pulled free of the restraints if she really wanted to. They were only silk scarves, and she was the one who tied them in place earlier. The ties allowed her to enjoy the experience much more thoroughly than she otherwise could have.
Ordinarily she would never have done these things. She was a good girl and thought herself quite vanilla; if she understood the term correctly. Donna had spent most of her life following the rules, doing what society expected of her, and always feeling less happy than she wanted. She wanted to be happier, but didn't know how to make it happen. She didn't even know what true happiness looked like. It was hard to want something you had never seen before. She didn't feel comfortable speaking up for herself, and never spoke about the hole in her heart.
Donna was a fierce advocate for her friends. She could shower them with encouragement and be the cheerleader they needed. She helped many others achieve their own goals. While her own desires sat on a shelf and collected dust. She had lots of friends, even some good friends: but she didn't have that one friend you shared the deep stuff with. Donna wasn't even sure how other people managed to say the deep scary words without dying of embarrassment.
The orgasm rolled up on her like a heavy rain cloud pushed by the wind. Slow, patient, and timeless. Donna tightened her grip and arched her body towards him, towards the sensation. That was very bold of her, she thought to herself. She just needed a little bit more. There was a tie around her neck that was pulled, forcing her head to tilt backwards. The tie scared her. It made her feel like he was in control of her. She hated everything about that tie; even when the pull of it made her cum. Her breathing hitched twice as her body exploded. Pleasure washed over her body like a warm summer rain. She cried out as her body tried to shake itself apart. Donna shattered, cried, and was washed away by her ecstasy.
This is joy, her body said, twisting like a cat in a sweater.
This is love her heart said, as endorphins flooded her system.
"I love you Donna," he whispered, still inside her, hot and hard.
This is happiness she thought, hearing his words. This is the man she wanted. They were doing the things she wanted; and he was saying the things she wanted him to say. Yes, this was real happiness.
Fifteen Days Ago.
The rain had always made Donna worry. Her house was perched on the hillside of the canyon, a hundred feet above the river. The view was spectacular, and she knew she was lucky to have it. The house was not much to look at from the front, but Donna lived in the back half. The back door opened onto a deck that ran the length of the house. Eight feet wide and forty feet long; it offered stunning views of the canyon and river below. In the summer she would spend her free time out soaking it all in. Leaning on the railing, or relaxing in a deck chair, it didn't matter. She kept an old pair of binoculars by the door to help see the hawks and eagles better. They often put on a show just for her.
The house was old, but standing strong against the elements. It had not started sliding down the hill yet, but the thought was always in the back of her mind. She lived in a place where it rained for half of the year, and threatened to rain for the other half. The deck was not holding up as well.
The main part of the deck was over fifteen years old, held together by paint and moss. The rest of the deck was piecemeal, with additions here and there over the years. Overall, the deck looked much more weekend warrior than structural engineer. Different heights, different boards, different design. Why couldn't they just match the original design she often thought. The rain always made her worry. Every time it rained, Donna thought about the deck getting wetter and weaker. She didn't know the names of all the deck parts, but she knew the older wood was losing the battle with time. Some spots creaked with age, and some were spongier than others. She had been hoping for years the deck would last one more year. So far, for the last few years, the deck had been listening to her.
The butterfly had landed on the railing to bask in the morning sunlight. It was opening and closing its wings, drying them, angling towards the sun for warmth. It was a Painted Lady Butterfly, recognizable by its distinctive markings. The wings were orange and brown, with a white bar on the leading edge. Donna saw it through the window and grabbed her camera before walking outside. She didn't need another picture of a butterfly, she already had hundreds. Still, they called her. Each one was magnificent with its distinctive size, shape, and colors.
Donna took pictures while moving closer. As long as she was slow and quiet, the butterfly would probably not flee. She got some good pictures up close, before moving backwards to try some artsy photos. She wanted to get the far hillside blurred out in the background. As Donna stepped back, a deck board creaked under foot. This was one of the known weak spots and she noted the groan of protest. As she leaned back to take another picture, the wood made a different sound. One single deep crack. A lone fiber of wood had given up somewhere in the middle, and snapped with an audible pop. Donna quickly stepped off the board but no other sounds were forthcoming. She put her foot back on the spot and tested it, putting all her weight on it. It was soft, but still usable, for now. The sound announced to her that the time had come, and the deck needed replacing. This was one more thing she didn't want to deal with, but had to. Donna had a list of things she didn't have the time for. She had another list for things she didn't have the money for. There was a third list of things she didn't have the energy for. Some projects fit in one category, and some spilled over into two. A new deck? That would land in all three. Donna went back inside and sat in the chair near the window. She looked at the deck, and then looked at the railing.
"Damm butterfly," she said.
Donna could only think of one person who could help her with the deck. She had worked with Bert years ago, and he was a handyman on the side. They used to be good friends, but had drifted apart when Donna took another job. They had flirted outrageously for a time and came dangerously close to falling in love. They decided to cool things off by mutual agreement before anyone got hurt. Things were more complicated back then as both of them had other attachments. Both admitted to having feelings for each other, but the timing wasn't right. Time and distance had softened the edges of those old sharp feelings.
Donna texted Bert, asking if he still built decks. He did. They made plans for him to stop by the following day. He would look at the project, take measurements, talk about her options, and give her an estimate for the labor and materials.
