* A quick word about the title. It is from the nursery rhyme, ‘Humpty Dumpty’, I’m not sure if it is known in America. Basically, it’s about
a personified egg that falls from a wall. All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men are called to try to put him back together, but they cannot.
It is synonymous with failure to mend or the inability to make something better. (Hmm! Have just discovered (22/11) that the most recent episode
was called ‘Humpty Dumpty’, so that kind of answers my queries. How strange.
Those writer are clearly reading my mind now… let’s hope they read about what we all want to happen with D and C too.)
* These aren’t my characters and this isn’t my show. Apologies to NBC, Constant-C, etc...
* I use British English mostly, although I’ve been trying to interject my ever growing knowledge of American English into my stories. I refuse to
change my spellings though, because it’s just too much hassle, so sorry for any confusion.
* The song featured is ‘Every Breath You Take’ by The Police, taken from the
album, Synchronicity. The poem is Sonnet II by Edna St. Vincent Millay.
* Feedback is appreciated. Thanks for all your good words in the past.
~~~
Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I’ll be watching you
Every single day
And every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay
I’ll be watching you
~~~
It was Autumn in Chicago. The trees were beginning to loose their leaves,
turning glorious shades of red, gold and brown, rustling like a million pieces of tissue paper in the wind. The temperature was beginning to
drop too. Frosty mornings soon came, coating the grass and trees with thick white
powder, turning them into china landscapes of ice. On these mornings the skies would be painted the most astounding blue, so clear it seemed
possible to see all the way to the moon. On these mornings, everything was clearer;
every sound would seem to be more lucid, every breath more special.
Carol found she came to love such mornings, if only for the peace they offered. Having loathed the oppressive heat of the summer, she loved to walk out when the ground crunched with frost and simply occupy herself with minutiae. She knew the neighbours were aware of her rapidly swelling abdomen, and of the fact that the man she had once shared her house with now seemed vanished. Tongues began to twitter, but no-one mentioned anything to her face, and she was happy with that arrangement. She was finding it increasingly difficult to even think about him, let alone discuss him with complete strangers.
This was one of those mornings and she had chosen to step out into the garden early, before the sun melted the frost. Last night, laziness and fatigue had stopped her from taking down the washing from the line, and now, as she stared out of the kitchen window and saw it all, ram-rod straight, frozen into boards on the line, she regretted her decision.
Pushing her feet into her slippers, she went to the line and began unpegging the solid clothes, forcing them into the basket, cracking the frost and showering the powder all over her jeans. Her fingers went numb with the cold, and as she bent over to pick the basket up, stretching out her leg behind her so she could lean over her bump, she felt a sudden movement inside her. She stopped, straightened and frowned at her abdomen. “Give over kicking,” she said to the babies inside. “Can’t you tell I’m busy?” As if in defiant response, one kicked again and she sighed, balancing the basket on her hip and murmuring to herself, “You could only be Doug’s children...”
Once inside, she dropped the basket and began laying the frozen
washing on top of the boiler. It would defrost quickly there. She went back out to
the kitchen and made herself a mug of coffee. As she absently tipped milk
into the mug, she heard the phone ring. Pausing, she raised her head, and
stared over at the phone on the wall. It was Tuesday, and she would normally
have been at work. She knew who it would be, and as she stretched her hand
out slowly, a thousand thoughts flitted through her head: Was it time to
talk? What would she say if she did pick the phone up? All these questions
and a few others muddled her mind, and hovered her hand just above the
receiver.
The answerphone clicked in, and then she heard him.
“Hey, Carol… it’s me.” She swallowed, frozen to the spot. “Are you
okay?” There was another pause, but then he began talking again. “I’m okay.
Still missing you though.” An audible sigh. “Every day I think about what you
look like… what your stomach looks like…” Carol glanced down at her bump. “I
want to touch it…” Another pause, and then a sigh. “Well, ring me back if
you want to talk… I love you. Bye.”
The phone went dead, and Carol breathed again. Her hand dropped to her
side, and she shuddered. It was so close. So real. He was just on the end of
the line. She leaned against the counter, and let out a stuttering sigh.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried to blink them back.
It had all become so much harder when the bump had started to show. Its
slow appearance meant that she could no longer deny what was happening. It reminded her of him, reminded her of what was going on inside her. And
it just kept on reminding her every time she looked at herself, every time
she buttoned her pants. He was there, not directly of course, but whenever
she passed her hand over her belly, she remembered him.
At first, she had seen him in everything. Anything she found that he
had loved or was his had sent her into crushing depression, sometimes even making her cry. For weeks she hadn’t been able to step inside the spare
room, where they had done so much planning together. The mere presence
of the rolls of wallpaper standing in the corners and the paint cans onthe dresser were enough to set off the cycle again.
Time passed, but little changed. She grew stronger in company, and
whenever she was busy, he flew from her mind; but elsewhere, in moments of
silence or
aloneness, he returned. She entertained ridiculous teenage fantasies.
Imagined him arriving on the doorstep, imagined him turning up at the hospital with a bunch of roses. But, then, when the messages began, it
did not take her long before she realised what he was doing. He was giving her space, doing exactly what she’d asked of him. At
first, they had been just brief notes giving her his phone number, his mobile number, his pager number, his e-mail address. Then, one day when she returned from work, she found a three minute, rambling message on the machine. He sounded depressed. He talked about how he’d got his old textbooks out and looked at the pregnancy pictures, imagining her
looking like the diagrams.
The messages soon became a regular occurrence. Two nights in every
week, she would come home to a short message, telling her indifferent facts about
his flat, or his car, or what he’d been doing. It seemed to Carol that he
was missing her talk. He started to tell her silly things about the baby,
when it had fingernails, when it would suck its thumb. And Carol secretly
looked forward to hearing from him. When he didn’t call, she was more tempted
than ever to pick up the phone and call him. But each time she got the urge,
she was frightened by the thought that she just did not know what she would
say if she did. The sheer terror was enough to scare her away every time.
She missed him. Missed most everything about him, but at the same time,
she couldn’t shake the notion that she was also somehow to blame. Her
terror came from the fact that she’d treated him badly, and when he’d started
to ring her, the reality that he was still aching with love had made her
feel nothing more than a bitch. In the interim, she had comforted herself
with the thought that he was no longer in love with her, so it hadn’t
mattered, but now, as that had been changed, so her uncertainties had started to
grow.
And now they were so huge, they blocked her every move. She was
fastened between a rock and hard place, with nowhere to go, and nothing to say
to save herself.
~~~
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go, - so with his memory they brim!
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot of shone his face
I say, ‘There is no memory of him here!’
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.
~~~
“Doug! Will you stop that!” came Cindy’s voice over the wall of
papers.
“What?”
“You know what! Stop it.” Doug poked his head over the mound and
stared at Cindy, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a pile of papers on
her lap setting her prostrate.
“You don’t like me singing? Is that it?” Cindy raised her eyebrows and
opened her mouth slightly.
“Well, let’s just say that Marvin Gaye was much better.” Doug looked
down and chuckled.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” She stared at him with
utter seriousness, and Doug disappeared behind the wall with a grunt.
“Don’t sulk.” She told him a second later.
“I’m not. Will you pass me last quarters returns forms?”
Cindy scrabbled around and then flung a blue folder over the wall.
“Catch!” she called. Doug gave another grunt as the folder scattered its
contents over his patch of floor. “You are sulking.” Cindy popped up, like a character out of a puppet display and laughed at Doug on his knees, practically swimming in paper.
“I’m not.”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Cindy giggled to herself. “It was just irritating, that’s all. Can’t you find anything to talk about instead.”
Doug shrugged. “I don’t know, what d’ya wanna to talk about?” Cindy grinned.
“Oh, you know me. So long as its gossip, I don’t mind at all!” He
paused and bobbed his eyebrows.
“Well, I heard it through the grapevine…” Cindy covered her ears and
began singing a scale of ‘la’s’, a grimace painted across her face. After a minute, she removed her hands and tilted her head. “Have you finished?”
she asked with a wry smile. Doug hummed the openly few bars of the song,
before giving up and nodding,
“Okay. No more.” Cindy rolled her eyes and then started as she
remembered something.
“Oh, I had something to ask you…!” she exclaimed, sparking with
excitement.
Doug raised his eyebrows at her and regarded her carefully as she
jumped up and hurdled the wall so she could sit opposite him. Taking his hands
and squeezing them between her own, she grinned at him and added, “It’s
kind of my way of getting you out of the house.”
“What?”
“Doug, you spend every single night shut up in your flat. You don’t go
out, you don’t talk to people anymore, you occupy your every minute with
work… You’re turning into a geek, Doug. And I think it’s about time you
kicked that butt of yours into shape and came out with someone for a while.”
He looked at her with a mixture of trepidation, curiosity and
mistrust.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Cindy swung his hands up and down like an eager child.
“Remember Kate?”
“Kate?” Doug mused. “Oh, your cousin… who looks after the kids for
you?”
“That’s the one.” Cindy grinned. “Well, she’s looking for someone to
go on a double date…”
“A double date?”
“Yeah. Kate’s split from her fiancé and she’s just started dating this
guy called Trevor. Now, I know it’s a cheesy name, but he’s such a nice
guy, Doug. He plays basketball, and he’s intelligent and friendly. I just
know you’d like him.” She smiled, still bouncing on her heels as she kneeled
in front of him.
“A double date with Trevor and Kate?” Doug deadpanned, bobbing his eyebrows. “Well that would be a talking point!”
“No! I haven’t finished yet!” Cindy gently slapped his palm.
“Kate’s
best friend is called Lissy, and she’s single!”
“Oh.”
“Don’t say it like that, Doug, she’s really nice. She’s slim, and
blonde, and she’s great to talk to.” Cindy stopped, noticing that Doug was
picking at his shoelace, clearly uncomfortable. “What’s the matter?”
“Well, you’re talking about sending me on a date.” He raised his head
and looked her in the eyes. “What do you think’s the matter?”
Cindy frowned. “Look, Doug, you can’t go on like this. You’ve got to
accept that she’s not going to ring you, and she’s not going to come to you.”
She sighed. “I know it’s hard, but it’s something you’ve got to do. I don’t
know her reasons, I really have no idea why she’s doing this to you, but
you’ve just got to move on. You can’t put your whole life on standstill for
her.”
Doug swallowed, returning his gaze to his shoes. He knew what she was
saying was the truth, but that didn’t stop it hurting. And he knew he’d known
it for some time. When he’d plucked up the courage to start calling her,
his attitude had improved somewhat; he’d been more positive, more relaxed;
he’d started sleeping through the night again and not waking up at four
o’clock.
But, as it had become obvious that she was not returning his efforts,
the old depression had sunk back again, pulling him back to monotony and despair.
“Did she stop everything for you?” Cindy asked, bringing him back to
the present. Doug looked up. “When you were going through all your
trouble…?”
Doug paused, realising the significance of Cindy’s words. He had told
this woman nearly everything about himself, and now, he figured, she knew
him better than almost anyone.
“No, she didn’t…” he admitted quietly. “She, she had two…” Doug
stopped, unable to say the words.
“She had two lovers.” Cindy filled the silence for him. “And she was
happy with them, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. He dropped his head again, but this time it was in resignation.
“So, come on… come out…” Cindy reached for his hands again and squeezed
them. “You never know, you might be happy too…” She titled her head so
she could look directly at him.
Doug said nothing. There was nothing to say. It was the beginning of
the end.
~~~
Oh can’t you see, you belong to me
Now my poor heart aches with every step you take
~~~
Cindy duly arranged the date, much to Doug’s chagrin, and two nights
later, turned up at his apartment, bearing two bottles of beer and a small
parcel.
“What are you doing here?” Doug asked, smiling slightly as he let her
in and ushered her into the lounge.
“Vicarious thrills, Doug. I have no life.” She chuckled at the truth
of her own irony.
“What’s this?” he asked, poking the parcel under her arm.
“It’s for you,” she told him. “Something to make you feel better.”
Doug smiled and ripped the paper. Inside was the silver photo frame he
kept on his desk, but the picture had been changed. Instead of the smiling,
happy photograph of he and Carol, instead it was a shot of he and Cindy, in
her kitchen, taken at her birthday party a few weeks ago. They were both toasting the camera, and grinning like drunk teenagers. Doug had a
paper party crown on, and they were both dancing the moves to ‘Stop’ by The
Spice Girls.
“Remember?” she asked, grinning at his wry face. “You were so uncoordinated…!”
“I’m not a woman. And I’m always suspicious of any man that can
dance.” Cindy grinned.
“Well, I just thought it was appropriate seeing as you’re making the
first step down the road to single life.” She put the frame down on the
kitchen counter. “What are you wearing then?” she asked, turning back to him.
“This,” he replied and led her through to his bedroom. Laid out on the
bed were beige slacks, a black polo shirt and a black linen jacket.
“Is it
okay?
Not to smart…? Cos I can chance it if you think it’s too smart…” Cindy nodded and fingered the material, picking up the jacket and holding it
up against him.
“No, this is nice. I like this.” She put the jacket back down.
“Right,
go and get dressed. I’ll pour you a beer, okay?”
“Thanks,” Doug smiled back as she walked out of the bedroom.
He began dressing, hearing Cindy in the kitchen banging glasses and
the refrigerator door. Staring at himself in the mirror afterwards, he
realised how seriously jaded he looked. He knew that if his mother saw him like
this she would bundle him straight into bed and begin her personal programme
of rehabilitation involving endless bowls of soup and toast. Shaking his
head, he sprayed some aftershave and deodorant on himself, and then flattened
his clothes out.
He stepped out of the bedroom then, and Cindy let out a long,
appreciative whistle. “Mmm… You look good, Doug!” she teased. “Here, drink this.” He
took the beer from her.
“When did Kate say the taxi’d be here?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Where are you going?” Doug asked as he sat down with his drink.
“Home to the kids. I’ve left them with a neighbour whilst I came to
sort you out, so I can’t do anything. Hannah’s stuck on her homework, so I
think I’ll be doing grade five English with her. And Robbie wanted to watch
some wrestling programme on the TV earlier. I told him no, and he threw a tantrum. He’s sulking, so he’ll be going straight to bed.” She chuckled
at the state of her own life. “Sad, hey?”
Doug grinned. “I wasn’t going to say anything…” Cindy rolled her eyes.
“Nevermind, you’ll have to take me out on Friday. Have you been to the
new Italian place down the main street?” Doug shook his head.
“Oh, well,
I’ve got a 2-for-1 deal I cut out of the paper for that place. Kate won’t
mind me leaving the kids with her for a night…”
“Depends how tonight goes with Trevor…” Doug added with a chuckle.
“I don’t care about Trevor,” Cindy admonished. “When she’s my age,
divorced and lumbered with two kids, then she can object.”
The doorbell rang, and Cindy shot out of seat. “That’ll be Kate!” she exclaimed, grinning. She skipped to the door and flung it open,
revealing her cousin and a handsome man who was obviously Trevor.
“Hi! Come in!”
Doug had never seen Kate before, and was surprised. She was tall,
almost half a foot taller than Cindy, and had cropped black hair that was
styled spiky. “Hello, Doug,” she greeted in a soft, friendly voice. She came
in and shook his hand. “This is Trevor. I’d guess Cin’s told you everything
she knows about him… but don’t worry, he’s not that bad.” She smiled,
looking up at Trevor with the wide eyes of lust. Doug smiled back and offered his
own hand to Trevor. “It’s so great you agreed to make up a team, Doug…
Lissy wanted someone to come along so she wasn’t a third wheel.”
“Do we have to wait for her?” Cindy asked Kate, pushing in amongst the
group. Kate cast her eyes back to her cousin.
“No, she’s meeting us there. Are you ready, Doug, cos then we’ll get going?” Doug nodded.
“Sure…”
He grabbed his keys and wallet from the phone table and waited whilst
Kate chatted for a minute with Cindy. “Okay, let’s go, then,” Kate said,
leading the way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Cin?”
“Yeah. About six; is that okay?”
“Not a problem.” They headed out and whilst Doug locked up his
apartment, Cindy hung back a moment.
“Good luck,” she said warmly as she heard Kate and Trevor go out of earshot. “Be confident, and don’t spend the evening talking about
Carol, okay?” He nodded, shrugging slightly. Cindy grinned. “I’m sure you’ll
have a great time.” She stood up on tip-toes and then planted a kiss on his
cheek.
Doug chuckled and hugged her for a moment. “I owe you,” he murmured.
“Friday!” Cindy said as a certainty. They walked out of the building together, and Doug opened the door of the taxi that Kate and Trevor
were already sitting in. He smiled at Cindy as she waved frantically at
them, grinning and excited as if it were her date.
~~~
Every move you make
And every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake
I’ll be watching you
~~~
They teased, and drank, and talked, and flirted. Doug was tipsy from
the wine and bloated from the meal, but his mood was relaxed. Lissy was
quiet and welcoming, funny and refreshing. It was a deadly mixture. The night
wore on and they duly got separated from Kate and Trevor. Lissy was
giggling, which she seemed to do a lot, telling Doug that Kate must have planned
this, because it was too much of a coincidence to believe. Doug laughed too.
It was strange to be feeling so easy again. But it was also quite
intoxicating.
“Come on, Doug, let’s go and get some coffee…” Lissy tugged on his arm
eagerly and pulled him up the steps to her house. Doug paused a moment,
glancing at his watch. It was late, nearing midnight, but the thought
that he had to work the next morning was nothing compared to the happy fuzz
zipping through him.
“Okay. Just one though,” he promised, half to Lissy and half to
himself. She giggled and dragged him through the door. He shrugged off his coat
and she took it from him, hanging it behind the door, and then led the way
into the kitchen. It was dark, but Lissy flicked on the wall lamps, and immediately the room filled with a rosy, warming glow.
“Do you have milk and sugar?” she asked him, as she started the kettle
boiling and then pulled out a chair, sitting down and peeling off her cardigan. She’d been wearing a tiny grey cardigan all night, and had
kept it tightly buttoned throughout the meal, making Doug wonder what was
underneath it. And now he saw; it was a spaghetti strapped vest top, in a matching
colour, and edged with lace. It was beautiful.
“No, no milk or sugar, thanks…” Doug murmured back, his eyes
wandering.
“Okay.”
Two minutes later, she’d poured two steaming cups of coffee and they
were facing each other across the table. Lissy was standing up, leaning
forwards on the back of the chair, still giggling, still blatantly drunk. And
Doug had to admit he was enjoying her company, enjoying watching the way her
long brown hair played around the pale, bare skin of her shoulders. The
copious amounts of wine they’d consumed over dinner were clouding his
judgment, but he was too relaxed to care.
Fifteen minutes later, the coffee was standing cold on the table and
Doug was unzipping Lissy’s little black skirt. He briefly wondered what he
was doing, what in God’s name he was about to do and how the hell he had
gotten to this stage anyway.
Lissy had welcomed him at the dinner with unusual vigour, and a kiss
to each cheek. And even though he had never met her before, he found
himself instantly at ease with her. She had toyed suggestively with her
asparagus spear during dinner. She had touched his arm, his shoulder, and even
his leg, to add unnecessary emphasis to their conversation.
So why the hell was he feeling so guilty as he slipped his hand up the back of her vest, passed it along her warm spine and then over her
shoulder? Why was she reciprocating so freely? Had he given her a come-on? He had
no idea.
Most tellingly, he began to think, he was now standing in her kitchen,
with his arms around her, allowing himself to be kissed, and finding himself
willingly kissing back.
Now, deftly, he was unhooking this woman’s bra, grazing the side of
her neck with his mouth, pulling the little grey vest out of the way;
cupping her breasts slowly. He breathed in, opening his eyes and seeing her
heavy-lidded expression. It was so familiar; so like the sated, passion-filled look Carol would give him in the depths of their love
making, and for a fleeting moment, it threatened to drag him back to reality.
But, as Doug shut his eyes again, Lissy’s image was replaced with blackness, and touch became the only sensation once again. Suddenly, in
his mind, Lissy ceased to exist. And he felt Carol dropping his slacks, fingering with the waistband of his boxer shorts, and then she wormed
out of his grasp and when he looked down, she was kneeling at his feet.
He placed his hand on her head as she looked up at him, her hands
playing across the backs of his thighs. “Doug, do you want this?” she asked.
Doug swallowed, slowly being drawn back to reality. He realised what was happening with an alarming familiarity.
He’d spoken briefly about someone back in Chicago, and Lissy was
clearly not as drunk as he’d suspected. He blinked, drawing in a succession of deep
breaths. He was on the edge of arousal, haze haunting his mind.
Suddenly, Lissy stood up and stepped back, reaching behind her to
fasten her bra again. Doug awoke fully from his minute dream and frowned
lightly. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice husky. Lissy pulled her vest
back on and passed her hand up to her own neck, squeezing it between her
thumb and forefinger.
“Doug, I’m not doing this with you tonight.” She sighed slightly,
adjusting her clothing with an air of finality. “Maybe another time. I can’t have
sex with a ghost…” And with that, she walked out of the kitchen and
disappeared.
It took Doug several long minutes before he realised that she wasn’t
coming back. He fastened his slacks again and looked about him. The room was
still spinning gently, but the lights seemed much harsher, less welcoming
somehow.
Casting a look up the stairs to the first floor, he let himself out of
the front door and stood for a minute shivering on the porch. A car flashed
past the door and Doug sighed, shaking his head to dislodge the alcoholic
haze, and went down on the street to hail a taxi.
~~~
Since you’ve gone I’ve been lost without a trace
I dream at night I can only see your face
I look around but it’s you I can’t replace
I feel so cold and I long for your embrace
I keep crying baby, baby, please…
~~~
He crawled into his apartment and stripped down to his shorts,
smelling Lissy’s perfume on his jacket and his skin. He showered. He got himself a pint of water and drank it straight down, hoping not
to get a hangover. It was half past one now. Too tired to make sense of
what had happened, Doug climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up around him, settling into slumber. With sleep would come resolution.
He was living in a fantasy. In dreams there were no fears; the demons
and the monsters were not there. Nothing in the world had any consequence whatsoever. With eyes closed, he didn’t need to face reality. And now,
as he let his mind wander, let his concerns evaporate, let the hollow feeling
in his heart disperse, he fantasised of her; like a horny kid with a manic
crush he relaxed into the fancy and let it pervade through him, warming
his body and arousing his spirit.
Slowly, he unbuttoned Carol’s shirt and brushed it away gently from
her shoulders. A plain white bra promised the most perfect breasts behind,
but for the time being he was happy to feast his gaze on the flesh
currently available. He pushed her against a wall, pressed against her and took
her mouth with his. Erotic shadows traced the contours of her curves,
enticing him in deeper, bringing his whole being into the mirage. As she
stretched her arms up and about his neck, her slim frame elongated and allowed
him to slip his hands down the waistband of her jeans and explore the warmly
soft skin there. He left one hand down the back of her jeans where his
fingers rested on the rise of her butt. His other hand he took back up to her
throat before letting it flow down her torso to her thigh. He grabbed at her.
She gasped and kissed him deeper. He sidled his hand up to the buttons of
her jeans and began inching them out of their holes, then tugging them
gently past her hips. Her legs were closed tightly, but yielded to his
feathery touch immediately. She was so willing. He cupped his hand forcefully
against her mound and dragged his fingers through the damp cotton of her
panties.
He took his hands away and clasped her head instead; as he did so he
saw her eyes burn green and brown as disappointment and desire coursed
across them. It pleased him. She groaned and drove against him for warmth,
wanting more. He clasped the tops of her arms and brought her away from the
wall, away from the cold surface and into the middle of the room, bringing
her to centre stage.
Her shirt was undone. Her bra was peeping through the gaping material,
her jeans and panties now kicked free, but still trailing, attached to one
foot.
They stared at each other, hard. No words were needed to express
anything.
Doug took her to the couch and sat her down, then knelt on the floor between her spreading thighs. He reached up and removed her bra and
shirt in one practised move. And there they were, those perfect breasts; exquisitely pale and pert, previously demure behind the white cotton of her bra,
but now positively brazen now they were out in the open. He kissed from one to
the other; his breath was hot with desire, his lips encircling and then taking them greedily. Biting. Tasting. Teasing.
He felt her breath quicken through the rise and fall of her chest. Her
hands swept up to his head, rubbing his hair. Up he stood, his groin at
her eye level, now comfortable and easy. She was unbuckling his belt and
Doug was losing his mind. She pushed his slacks clear from his hips. His
erection had forced the fly of his boxer shorts open and she buried her face in
the opening, eliciting a soft moan from him. His pubic hair tickled her,
his cock was just out of reach and view; it was torturous and it thrilled
her. He yanked down his shorts and she sighed at the sight of him standing upright in front of her. She gently pressed her lips against his balls
and felt them tighten so much it must have been painful. She inched her
mouth along his length, the head just out of her reach. He grasped his
rampant hardness and levered it down a little; she opened her mouth and
encircled it obligingly. He bucked gently as she sucked. It was difficult to
breathe. He was light-headed, fuzzy.
Suddenly, he pulled out, panting. His cock danced briefly in the dry
air. “Quick,” His voice sounded hoarse.
She wriggled free of her panties. She lay back and opened her legs and
closed her eyes. Doug climbed onto the couch above her, anticipating
the long waited sensation. The head pressed gently at her before easing in fully.
She felt tight and delicious and warm and amazingly his, belonging to
him now he was inside her, now he was preparing to mould himself with her inseparably.
He held the top of her head whilst she wrapped her arms around him,
gluing his chest to hers. He was so hard it made her feel so much softer, her sticky, warm passage giving gently as he thrust inside her. He felt her
coming, contracting around him. Then, as she bucked up against him, his
own orgasm exploded into epic proportions…
He woke, his own body shaking with a climax. Knowing it was true
before he fully regained consciousness, he peeled back the sodden sheet from his
groin and regarded his rapidly falling erection. He’d not had this since he
was fourteen. Not knowing whether to admire it or hate it, he raised his
hands over his head and sighed, wishing it could have been real. Praying to
God in desperation.
~~~
Oh can’t you see, you belong to me
How my poor heart aches with every step you take
~~~
Of course, Cindy chastised him the next morning. Mildly hung over and
so tired he could barely focus, Doug ignored her protestations. She gave
him his coffee with a glare, delivered his mail with a sigh and then
disappeared to her own office.
He collapsed onto the desk, releasing a pent up breath. But, however
hard he sighed, he could not dislodge the heavy head that now sat on his shoulders. Lissy had been right. He was still too haunted to be of any pleasure to any other lover. It would have been just like before, many substitute bodies, all imperfect in comparison, but all enough to blank
his mind for just a few hours.
Last night, he could have given himself to her quite easily, there was
no guilt, no feelings of betrayal. But it would not have satisfied him,
because he would simply slip into his haunting fantasy of Carol. Lissy would
have melted into the background, a place merely to put it and get off, his
mind not even centred on the act. He would have woken from his fantasy,
realised where he was and felt instantly depressed. It would have been no
different than waking up alone, instead concentrated with the thousand minute repercussions of involving another being in his sadness.
He sat up, glanced at his watch, and picked up the telephone. He dialed and waited for the sound of her substitute voice. Sighing, he waited,
then he spoke, “Hey Carol, it’s me again. I was just thinking about you… I
miss you…”
~~~
Every move you make
And every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake
I’ll be watching you
Every move you make
Every step you take
I’ll be watching you
~~~
The End.