Chapter 40 Differential Edit

40. MONDAY MORNING

An orgasm woke Freya.

It was a big one, brilliance flared behind her eyelids, her hands clenched and her toes curled. Afterward her legs trembled for so long she was afraid they would never stop. She was left panting in the dark, trying to make sense of what had happened to her.

Pieces of the dream were flowing together, like droplets converging into a pool. In the dream, Freya hadn’t sent Dan home. She’d brought him into her bedroom, stripping him down as he asked her if she was sure about this. She never spoke, she just pushed Dan against her bed and climbed on top of him. When she’d slipped him inside he had an expression of awe, as if he were looking up at a god.

In the darkness she groped at twisted sheets, half-expecting to find Dan beside her. The dream stubbornly refused to fade, just like the others. When had she forgotten how to forget her dreams? Once she would have given anything to remember them, but this new inability worried her.

As Freya moved to turn on the light, she felt dampness beneath her, and she paused, caught on the edge of unreality. Had she actually slept with someone?

It was more likely she’d just had her period unexpectedly. She flicked on the light, prepared to see a mess, but it wasn’t blood, everything was just wet. Not quite enough for her to have peed the bed, there was no smell of urine. But still, a lot, soaking through her pajamas. She would have to wash her sheets, she hoped the mattress was ok.

I came in a dream?

Freya felt ashamed. She began stripping the fitted sheet off her bed, feeling like she needed to do a load of laundry right away to hide this. It had soaked through to the mattress. She hung her head and shut her eyes.

She hadn’t gotten off at all for the last six months, hadn’t even wanted to try. Now out of nowhere she’d done this, and it felt so wrong. Freya tried to tell herself it was natural, that she was just backed up, but the guilt remained. At least Lassa was gone.

Freya slumped back onto the dry side of the bed, wondering what was wrong with her. There was a sudden emptiness as it sank in that Dan hadn’t really slept with her, he wasn’t about to bound in from brushing his teeth and tell her it was all ok.

Freya had no business dreaming about him like that, and she felt like a creep. She knew Dan didn’t see her that way. She was the one who’d initiated the hug, and held it for way too long. She cringed t the memory, her cheeks were suddenly hot.

It wasn’t only her cheeks, she was burning up. Her nipples were stiff. Her breasts had a deep, throbbing discomfort she sometimes got with her period but it wasn’t due for two weeks. She was ready to go again.

What’s happening to me? Freya wondered.

She was sure she had a fever but it was a slow, smoldering feeling she didn’t fully want to stop. She had an urge to text Dan, her phone was face down on her nightstand. She turned it over and unlocked it, the screen was still on his last message.

<Dan> Good night Freya.

Freya paused. It was four AM. What was she thinking? She couldn’t text him now. What was she even going to say? Hey, thanks for the heart to heart, want to come over and fuck? It was insane and if she did Dan would never talk to her again. She set her phone down so hard for a moment she was afraid she’d cracked the screen.

She wasn’t like that! She hadn’t even thought about him that way last night, except maybe at the very end in the driveway, when they’d hugged. It had been so long since she’d held someone, and he was so warm.

Her hand had snaked down her stomach at the memory.

Ok. Get it out of your system, Freya thought, but the feeling would not fade, even after she came again, and again after that. Everything just ran hotter. She was reaching for her phone, when on impulse, she touched the Starball sitting on the nightstand beside it. It was radiating heat again, like it had when she was reading Dying Inside.

How was it generating that heat? It was all starting to be too much to ignore, the unusual feelings, the sleepwalking, the internet disruption. All things she was ignoring, pushing everything to the back of her mind. Again she wondered if she ought to seal the Starball back in the meteorite shell.

As Freya thought about it, the charged sensation on her skin subsided. As soon as the feeling was gone gone she wanted it back. It left her with a heavy, aching rawness. She’d gotten off three times since she woke up and still felt so unsatisfied. Thoughts of sealing up the Starball seemed less important by the second. When she tried to channel her thoughts back to the idea, she felt nauseous.

Freya rose to her feet, ready to dash to the bathroom if she needed to throw up. It was a little better when she was standing. She finished stripping the bed, shaking her head at herself.

Her eyes lingered on the phone, she was so hungry to be touched. Freya felt like she was just a humming, knotted ball of want and nothing could sate her. She took a long scalding shower and masturbated again twice, she tried for a third but she was getting numb.

When the sheets were in the washing machine Freya finally trusted herself to pick up her phone again. It wasn’t to call Dan. She searched for “Female Wet Dream” then for “Hypersexuality.” She read for a while and was relieved that at least the dream was natural, but the intensity was still worrying. The most she’d ever gotten off before was three times, and that was mostly to see if she could. Nothing at all like this, hitting her out of nowhere after a six month drought.

Freya deleted her browser history and wondered if she had to tell Dr. Garbuglio about this. She desperately didn’t want to, but what if it kept happening? What if she felt this way at school? She didn’t want be sneaking off to the bathroom between classes to furtively masturbate. But she’d barely had a choice this morning, the desire was so strong. She wondered if it was even a good idea to go to school today.

“What’s happening to me?” Freya asked aloud. There was no answer from the empty house. She knelt down by her nightstand and peered at the alien orb, willing it speak. Her distorted reflection stared back at her. The longer she stared, the more afraid she became of what it might say.