Of course I went. How could I not? She has a spell over me I'll never be able to break. There is no nervousness now, only the calm, terrible certainty of what happens next. This is a loop we're in, a system from which there is no escape. I'd been texting her since yesterday, and she told me to be there around seven-ish. When I get there, and she lets me in, there is no preamble - she immediately starts taking off my clothes. I feel her hands grabbing my cock, but I shoo her away, and ask her to slow down. She goes on the defensive, and infers that I feel no desire for her, even though she had just felt how hard and how bad I wanted her. For a few seconds we stare at each other, and then we do something we'd never done before : we kiss. But this isn't the kind of strings playing in the background type of kiss, no. This is a hungry kiss, this is a ravenous kiss, the kind of kiss that devours men and rends women to pieces. We kiss and kiss and kiss, and god damn, does it feel great. I take my time with her now, the previous times we were together were do brief and so out of my control, that now I want to exert some control back. I press her against the wall, cup her breasts in my hands, and let my tongue savor them. This is another first. Well, to be fair, most everything will be a first. As we stand against the wall, I feel her taking my hand, and she joins our fingers inside her. She puts her fingers in my mouth, and it tastes like heaven. Mine brush her lips, and she licks them eagerly. I have to taste her again - I kneel at the feet of her feline, outstretched figure, and lap her up. How could I have gone so long without having tasted this nectar? She pulls me back up, and positions herself back to me, I slide inside her quickly. There's a part of me that's trying to be rational as we fuck, and finds itself wondering why does it always come to this. Why can't there be any more. More than this. More than just flesh pounding into each other and then we lapse into a great silence. But those intrusive thoughts are put in the backburner at once, she leads me to her room, where we lay on the bed. I can't help myself, I'm addicted to her, and my mouth is drawn towards that godless savage garden that is her cunt. God help me, how will I live without this, without her? I'm inside her again, on top of her, how our roles have reversed, and she looks at me almost as if she loves me. She moans, louder and louder. There's an alacrity to her fucking, I wonder if it's just with me, or if she's this way with everyone else. Such abandon, such fury. But also such sorrow, deep down. 'Tell me', she says as she comes, 'tell me'. My thrusts become faster, more frantic, I'm going to come too. And again, I find myself saying those three words.
As soon as we're down she tells me to get dressed. 'He'll be home soon enough', she says, 'and I don't need the aggravation.' I'm still putting on my clothes, trying to come to grips with one more mindfuck. 'Hurry up', she says impatiently. 'You have to go. You need to leave.' So I finished getting dressed, and I'm fuming now. I felt used, and me being rushed out the door isn't helping any. But just before I leave, Damaris holds me by my arm, and kisses me on the lips. What a sap I am. 'I'll call you tomorrow', she says. 'I promise.' And did she? Did she bollocks. She would, eventually, call me - some two months later. She says we need to talk. And I say I don't really feel like talking to her. 'Tough luck', she says, 'send me your address and I'll meet you there.' I ask her if she really has to come here, or if we can meet somewhere, but she insists she wants to come. Shit, she's going to hate my place. It's tiny, and packed with all my random stuff. She takes a little bit of time to get here, and instead of buzzing the door, she calls me to let me know she's downstairs. I ask her if I'm supposed to go down and meet her, but I can feel her tetchiness. She makes her way upstairs quickly, doesn't say hello, and just walks in. She takes off her jacket, and throws it on the sofa. She's angry. Something's wrong. I ask her if she wants something to drink, she says no, and paces around the house impatiently. Then she stops abruptly and glares at me. 'What?', I say, perhaps a bit too loud. I'm feeling increasingly irritated. Then the h-bomb drops : 'I'm pregnant.', she says. And I ask her exactly why she's telling me that, surely there would be some other party more relevant to the story than me. And she says, 'No, Mr. Dalloway and I haven't had sex in months. You were the last person I... I did it with.', and now something starts to give in inside her. She sits down on a chair, and leans herself forward, and for a moment the full grown woman gives place to that girl I met so many years ago. I go to her, and take a knee in front of her. 'You're saying it's mine? How?', and of course I know how. There were no precautions taken, and I just sort of assumed she was on the pill. 'Fuck', I say, slumping down to the floor. 'What are we going to do? What do you want to do?', and she says she doesn't know yet. It would mean the end of her marriage - she didn't think her future ex-husband would buy the idea that he'd gotten her pregnant. Then she composes herself, and it's the adult woman now before me, not the child. 'I have to take care of things. Give some time and when everything's right we'll talk again.' But I didn't really understand what she meant by that, and demanded some clarification. 'Do you trust me?', she asked. I almost laughed at that, and I told her I could only trust her to disappear again. 'That's fair', she said. 'It's the only pattern I showed you. But I'm asking you to trust me. Please.' I nod, and tell her I trust her.
About two and a half months later, she calls me again. Says she left her husband, the divorce is all but finalized. She had to move to a new place, and tells me the address. Hurry here, she says, as if I was available at the drop of a hat. Well... I was. I got to her new place, a pretty swanky place, but not as posh as her previous house. She welcomes me in, and tells me that I'm going to be staying the night. She had a doctor's appointment early, and she wants me to go with her. There's a bump in her belly now, and I ask if I can place my hands on it. She says she's not ready for that, not yet. So I ask her if I'm going to be sleeping on the couch, or does she have a spare room. 'No, don't be silly.', she says, a cocky half-smile on her face. 'You'll be sleeping with me.' And that's all we do - no fucking, barely any touching, and just a very quick goodnight kiss. But for the first time I saw a side of her I'd never seen, I'd seen her with all her defenses down. She was at ease around me, and that felt good. We sleep soundly, the both of us, and in the morning we got up early. As we leave, she says she'll be having her first ultrasound, and she naturally wanted me to be there. I never envisioned myself as ever having children, and here I am about to have children with the one person I could have ever wanted to have children with. We get to the doctor's office, and she lies down on a table, her belly bare. She flinches at how cold the jelly that's being placed there is, but soon enough the doctor is doing his thing. An image gradually comes into focus, and we all gasp. It's twins. If one was unexpected, then two seemed unthinkable. He rubs the ultrasound thing on her belly a bit more, and then asks if want to know what their sexes are. I say yes, with some trepidation, but she says no. She'd rather find out when they were born. And that's ok - that will happen in the near future anyway.
Afterwards, we return to her place. She was quiet on the way back, deep in thought, barely saying a word. Then when we get home - no, not home, to her place - she sits down on the sofa, and motions for me to sit beside her. As I sit, she grabs my hand and places it on top of her belly. 'I'm ready now', she says. I rub it for quite a bit, and kiss it - it's still got a vaguely alcoholic smell where the jelly was smeared. She rests her hands in a steeple on top of her breasts. Then she says, 'This is what we're going to do. We'll be living here from now on, but we'll soon have to think about moving to a bigger place. After the kids are born, we're going to get married. I don't want you to work for the postal service anymore. You're not stupid, and I've got connections. I'll set you up with something more adequate.' I sit there, listening to her recount all the ways I'd be living my life differently without previously having been consulted about it. I heave a long, drawn-out sigh. 'What?', she asked, and I get up from the sofa - now I'm the one who's pacing around impatiently. 'Why do you do this? Why are you like this?, and she seems genuinely surprised that I'm asking her these questions. 'I mean', she says, 'isn't this what you always wanted? Me? Us?'. She looks at me, her eyes pleading. I'm on the verge of tears, but I push them back. 'Of course it is', I say, 'but let me have some agency in this story, please.' I ask too much, I realize straight away. She just nods her head, says she can't. 'It's the only way I know how do things, if I take control of everything. It's the only way that makes sense to me.', she says, now fully risen from the couch and standing in front of me. 'And I don't want to do this alone', but I will if I have to. So it's your choice.' How easy is it for me to capitulate, you ask? Well, very easy. I bowed my head, and moved towards, and hugged her gently. It was what I wanted, after all. Though I'm not quite sure if I wanted it to be like this.
No comments:
Post a Comment