I heard a bang at the door. “Rayna, I’m coming there!” Azmir yelled.
“Don’t you dare!” I screamed and discharged again—from both ends.
I was miserable. I felt weak and sleepy! I had no idea what I’d eaten to throw my body into such a fit. I was deathly desperate for a relief. Once the stomach spasms and head spinning had stabilized, which was nearly twenty minutes after being in there, I cleaned myself up and found comfort on the cool marble floor. When my face met the chilled tile, I sighed in relief.
Minutes later, Azmir’s back at the door. “Rayna, I can see you’re on the floor. Do you need help up?”
How can he see me!?
It then hit me that the entire apartment, with the exception of the master suite, was monitored through a surveillance system. How embarrassing! Azmir could see my bare backside plopped up in the air. Where would my dignity lie with him after this experience?
“No! Leave me alone. This is horrible! I don’t want you to see me like this, Azmir…please—”
With that, I jumped up feeling another round of spewing forcing me to take my seat back on the toilet and to shove the garbage can back to my face for dumping. That went on for the next two hours. Azmir respected my wishes, I didn’t hear from him again. It was the most miserable physiological experience of my life.
When I treaded out of the powder room, I could see the sun setting on the marina from the balcony and floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, across from me. I was woozy, sore, and completely spent. I closed the door behind me just as Azmir charged towards me lifting me up in his hard arms. I slapped him weakly because I had no strength.
“I stink. Please don’t! I’ll walk.”
He didn’t respond. He marched toward the back of the apartment, we entered the master suite and then the bathroom. He sat me on the chaise and walked over to start the shower. When he ambled back toward me, he began removing my booties tossing them into the corner before grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. I had little resistance to his quick movements, I was that weak.
“Stand,” he ordered while he held my waist to assist. I did, but when he went for the elastic tip of my leather leggings to remove them, I panicked.
“No! I’ll do this. I smell horrible.”
“I haven’t smelled any foulness yet. Don’t be so prideful. You’re weak and damn near trembling. We’re adults here.”
I shook my head. “But you’re no nurse who is accustomed to body secretions of the waste type. No. Go out and I’ll take it from here,” I spoke in susurration.
Azmir sighed heavily in exasperation. “Rayna, I take advantage of your body for pleasure, I can take care of it when it’s ill, too. Let me help.”
His broad shoulders sunk in disappointment and frustration. He was earnest in his desire to take care of me. While the thought was hugely endearing, my body odor was not. There was no way I was exposing him to the ugly of it. Menstruating was something that we could work around; defecation and vomit we couldn’t survive—I couldn’t survive! I respected Azmir’s willingness to cross this boundary in our relationship, but I was not prepared. This was god-awful and exceptionally embarrassing.
I shook my head with sulking expression. I had no energy to fight with him, but there was no way I would forfeit my appeal in his eyes. Azmir worshipped my body—that I had to give him. I was not willing to compromise that. This was all too much. I couldn’t even look him in the face. I just extended my arm, telling him to go.