by Lucian Bane
“I need to talk to you.”
“Coming.”
Her sing-song tone and happy face as she approached screamed more lies. “You hide your true feelings. Why? What was wrong with us? I talked in that video like I’d just met you.”
She nodded, sitting several feet from him. “You kind of did.”
“God,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve had two feelings since I’ve woken: arousal and frustration. I’m starting to realize that those two are not a good combination.
“What…has you frustrated?”
“You wanted to ask what has me aroused. Watching that video aroused me.”
She nodded, not looking at him, looking at her lap. Guilty.
“Tell me what’s going in. I need answers, I don’t like this gap, these missing pieces.”
“Soooo,” she began cheerily. “I thought that you didn’t want me for many years. I pulled away from you. Physically. Sexually. We didn’t have sex for a long, long, time and then you got that disease, and when I thought I was going to lose you, I decided I didn’t care if you didn’t want me, I wanted you. And then I found out that I was wrong about you not wanting me, that you really did want me, and I had misunderstood everything you’d said our entire lives and… so I…I was sorry of course. Very, sorry. And you were also deeply sorry that I thought you didn’t want me, and you wanted to…change that.”
“Change what?”
“Just…everything with…”
“Sex?”
She nodded.
“Did we have sex in that bathroom?”
It took her a few seconds before she nodded, again like somebody guilty.
“Do you regret it?”
She almost looked at him then didn’t. “No,” she hurried. “I…It was…”
“Did you like it?”
She nodded. His cock was raging hard now. “You said if I kissed you, I’d remember everything. Do you think you’re up to kissing me?”
She stared, breathless. “I…don’t know.”
That wasn’t good enough.
“I’m sorry…”
“You’re sorry a lot,” he said, wondering over that as he stood. “Were you ever unfaithful?”
“What? No.”
“Was I?” he asked.
“No, of course not.”
“How do you know?” he wondered, turning to her.
Her gaze lowered and caught sight of his hard on.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you for sex,” he assured. The idea to was quickly becoming out of the question. He made his way to his side of the bed and sat.
“Did we sleep in the same bed together before?” he wondered.
“Yes.”
“You say that like I should automatically know that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I’m sorry!”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Is that anger I hear?”
She walked to her side of the bed behind him and sat. “I guess you’re going back to bed. If you need anything, let me know.”
He faced forward, confused with her. “Why?”
She didn’t answer right away. “Dr. Wong said I’m supposed to watch and make sure you’re okay.”
He lay on his side with a sigh. “I’m just laying down.”
“Last time you did that you had a stroke. I’d feel more comfortable if I stayed close.”
She was telling half the truth. She was good at that. He wasn’t going to argue with her; he wanted her there. He may not understand the answer keys, but he liked having them where he could study them.
“I can walk now and do things,” he couldn’t resist.
“I know that, and I thank God. But…the doctor said.”
“Did he,” Ben mused, sure now that he didn’t.
“I’m doing it for my peace of mind too. The doctor said I needed to take care of myself, and myself is nervous and worried.”
It was true. “About me?”
“Yes,” she said, her soft tone putting him more at ease. He turned on his other side so he could see her while she was having these emotions he was hearing. He stared at her laying on her back, the light from the living showing off the shape of her breasts. He suddenly needed to study her while she was naked.
“I may not have taken care of you for months, but it didn’t take long for me to form a habit of caring for you.”
He realized when she was upset, she was her most honest. “So, you formed a habit of caring for me when I got ill.”
“I always cared,” she said in guilty regret.
“And yet you kept sex from me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, sounding on the verge of tears. “And I’m still as sorry as I was when I first told you.”
“I want to hear it again.”
“Ben…” she said, sounding pained. But he couldn’t help it, he needed to hear.
“I need to remember.”
“Is there really any reason to remember stupid things that hurt you? It’s like I have to hurt you all over again when all I want to do is make you forget.”
“What do you think are the stupid things?”
“Ben, you know what I think the stupid things are, I told you,” she cried, begging. He liked her begging and desperate to protect him, he realized.
“So, you withheld sex from me because you thought I didn’t want you.”
She gave a huge sigh. “Yes. I withheld sex because I thought you didn’t want me or desire me.”
“But turns out you were wrong.”
“Very wrong. And stupid,” she reminded. “I’ll write up a statement. Like a crime, because that’s what it was. Are you needing me to answer for my sins?” She sat up in bed, facing him as though maybe the idea was a good one.
“I just want to understand what was going on. So, you…used to have sex with me?”
“I did.”
“I don’t understand how we went from having sex, to you not having sex because I didn’t want to have sex when you said I did like having sex with you. This doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it really doesn’t make sense. And if you want me to repeat it so I can hear how stupid it is, I’ll repeat it a thousand times. Whatever you want from me.”
“So… it turned out I actually did want it, so...why didn’t I try to have sex with you?”
“Because of something I said much earlier about… hating men who misread every little kindness a woman gave as an invitation for sex and from that you swore to never be that man, and to make sure to only desire me when you knew without a doubt that's what I wanted from you.”
“What?”
“I know,” she agreed. “Stupid.”
“You believed that?”
“What?”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t think that’s true. It can’t be.”
“What? Why wouldn’t it be, you weren’t a liar. What’s dumb about it?”
“If I wanted you, I would have had you, I think. Now, I have to figure out why I didn’t want you, what the real problem was.”
“Oh my God,” she said, laying back down with her back facing him.
At hearing her broken tone, he stared at her back. “I’m sorry,” he said, realizing the difference between her anger and pain. He liked one but not the other.
“So, you’re thinking you lied to me and really didn’t want me maybe?”
At hearing the idea would shatter her, he got up on his elbow, his cock hard.
“Not that I would blame you,” she quipped.
He wondered over the sudden emotion he had. Amused, maybe. Whatever it was, had him smiling.
“I’m the one that should’ve gotten a new head, not you,” she went on. “I don’t know how you would want to ever have sex with me, after I did that all those years,” she barely strained.
He couldn’t stop his snicker from escaping, not really understanding why that made him laugh.
She sudd
enly sat up, looking at him. “Why are you laughing?”
The genuine question made him laugh more. “I’m…not sure.”
“What I did is serious, Ben,” she assured.
More laugher with him nodding. “I’m not saying it wasn’t.”
“You are too soft, too nice,” she accused. “That’s why I was a bitch! If you change anything, you need to change that.”
He suddenly sat up too, staring at her, his eyes adjusted to the dim light. “I need to look at you.”
She stared back at him, then lowered her head. “You need your head examined to want that,” she whispered.
He was grinning again. “I like when you’re angry for me.”
She sat there nodding. “Good,” she whispered, wiping tears from her face before laying back down on her side. “I am very angry for you. At me. I don’t deserve you.”
“And I never said I didn’t want you.”
“It’s okay. I just…want to make things right for you, Ben.”
He suddenly needed to feel her more than ever. “Did we sleep by each other?”
“We did,” she said, stressing the past tense with regret. “I’m kind of glad you don’t remember.”
“I remember the church and meeting you. The gum,” he said, smiling. “Everything. Yeah. Like it was yesterday,” he mumbled, laying back down and staring at her back.
Ben’s Different
Cheryl lay there, ready to sob at hearing Ben recount their memories behind her. Everything that wasn’t sexually related, she realized after a bit. She finally turned over and gasped at being nearly in his face. She stared into his dark eyes, stuck again. Oh God she knew why she was terrified of them now. Her heart slammed her chest as he leaned in and pressed his lips against her forehead.
“Turn over.” Even his whisper was deep and thick. “I want to hold you.”
Did he? She gradually did, closing her eyes when his arm slid over her stomach and tugged her into his body.
“That smell.”
Oh no, did she stink? What was he smelling? “Do you…want me to bathe?”
His mouth moved along her hair back and forth, making her heart pound in worry.
“I mean…if the smell bothers you,” she barely managed around her need to pant.
“No,” he whispered. The thick, husky sound in his voice made her pulse hammer between her legs. He was aroused again. She heard it. So potent and…terrifying. She suddenly felt like she lay in a den with a lion laying right behind her, sniffing his food.
“So, I was supposed to remember… that you liked pleasure.”
Her pulse sped up faster somehow.
He stroked his hand over her arm, like a slow petting. Soon it ventured over her hip, then upper thigh before returning slowly up again. “And that you needed a lot of it.”
Her lips parted for quiet panting. His touch was different. Calculating. Maybe… testing. He continued doing that till she was ready to combust. Then finally his fingers began dipping an inch further between her legs every third or fourth pass. Just when she was sure the pattern meant he would go beyond, he returned to innocent petting. What was he doing, wanting? She felt like there was a meaning to it, a deliberate purpose. Did he want her to make the first move? Give him some kind of permission? She was breathing like a cow, wasn’t that close enough of a beg?
She couldn’t stand the torment and moved her hips a little, gasping when she ran into his erection. His mouth pressed at her ear with a thick groan and torched everything below her waist. He pushed back, pressing his erection into her butt. She didn’t move away, she held herself still. Feeling the hardness of him while he continued teasing along her thigh and rocking his cock into her butt.
His hand suddenly ventured to her hip… then waist. It slowed and lowered over her stomach. Oh God. She held her breath. Which way would he go? Up or down? Either way would… he was moving up. Her breaths shuddered out with the slow circle of his finger around her mound, making his way inward. Fire erupted in her clit when he grazed the tip of her nipple over the fabric, bringing her light cry. He answered with a groan, low and lethal, like an animal toying with its prey. The arousal was painful.
Ben never teased like this. But he had no memory of why he’d decided not to initiate sex. Didn’t believe the why even. He knew she needed pleasure and if he was deliberately toying with her, dangling it before her, then why? Why!?
He suddenly rolled over, and the abrupt absence of his body startled the wind out of her. She waited, listening for the sound of what he was doing. Was he undressing? Her heart hammered at the idea of…having sex with him. Was she ready for that? Oh God, maybe. Yes. Yes, she was ready. It was dark, and it made it easier to remember Ben.
“Thank you for helping me with my memories,” he mumbled. “Wake me up in two hours if you can, I need to get ready for physical therapy.”
She froze inside herself, eyes popping open. He was going to sleep? Her jaw managed to drop even in her position. Did he just… tease her to near death? Was he getting revenge for her withholding sex from him? “You’re welcome,” she managed to get out as fear swirled all around. Would he really pay her back?
Oh God.
She deserved it. And if that’s what he needed…then she’d give him that.
****
Cheryl must’ve dosed off. She woke to see the shades open which meant it was after 7:00. Shit. She hurried to the closet to stare at her selection of clothes. Everything she’d brought to wear was for her Ben, but this Ben was obviously different. He wasn’t the same. Even knowing that he was Ben being reborn, reconnected, re-created or—whatever—she realized that he wouldn’t ever be reconnected the same. How could he be? They were reliving things out of order and all at once.
She needed to see Dr. Lanthrop, bad. They had a marriage session tomorrow and as much as she dreaded it, she needed it. They both did. It couldn’t be easy for him either. Although he seemed to be doing a lot better without memory of feelings than she was with them. Must be nice to not remember. Maybe she would suggest just moving forward down the right path and forget the past problems.
And today he had that blasted physical therapy with Miss Argentina. As much as she hated to, she needed to be there for that. She’d been drawing a lot of comparisons with new Ben and old Ben. The doctor said to keep track of changes. Her normal Ben would deliberately not look at other women, and he enjoyed doing that for her. She had no idea what this Ben might do, and she almost dreaded to find out.
Charlie on the other hand seemed to get along great with him. Like nothing had changed. She couldn’t help being envious.
She selected Ben’s favorite yellow fitted dress with the semi-flare skirt that came just above the knees. It was borderline decent/indecent. She picked her red sandals with the low heels. The red dangling bird earrings and red lipstick would go good too. Fingernail polish if she had time.
She went to her intimate’s drawer, wondering if he’d looked at himself in the mirror yet. She had to assume he had, he’d been in and out of the bathroom enough since that first day. But he hadn’t said anything about it, if he had. She wanted him to accept it like she did.
Shit, what time was it and where was Ben? Maybe showering.
She tiptoed her way to the kitchen and peered around. Everything was quiet. Returning to the room, she crept on to the bathroom, clutching her clothes to her chest. It was quiet there too.
Not trusting her ears, she called out. “Ben?”
She hurried to the shower at getting no answer and found it empty. Where was he?
She set her clothes on the large built-in shelf in the stone wall next to the entrance and quickly removed her pajamas. “AHNS, turn on the shower to eight-five degrees.” She really needed to ask Yan how to turn the bathroom functions to manual. With Ben back, she preferred not announcing her showers.
As fast as she could, she washed herself, starting with her hair then working her way down. She washed her privates and every nook and cranny
last, then hurried and removed the shower nozzle from the wall and began rinsing quickly. Doing her privates last, she braced her foot on the stone wall so she could force the water inside like a douche. He kept smelling her, and God help her if it was that. How embarrassing that would be. Ben never complained about her smell down there, but he wasn’t the type to, she was sure. This Ben…not so much. Or maybe his sense of smell was different now. That was more likely. Even still, what if she smelled different to him and he didn’t like it? Ugh.
Sliding her hand over herself brought a zing of pleasure, reminding her of his earlier tease. God. She’d never been hornier. Maybe she needed to not be so…desperate.
She glanced over her shoulder and aimed the stinging shower spray at her clit, letting out several breaths at the instant arousal. Maybe if she…had an orgasm.
“Cheryl?”
“Oh!” she shot out, dropping the shower head. “I’m showering!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, making sure he heard.
“I need to get in there. I have an appointment with the therapist.”
“I know,” she called. “I was going to go with you. If that’s okay?”
“It’s just physical therapy.”
“AHNS, turn the shower off,” she said, running for the towel next to her clothes and wrapping in it. “I know. I just…want to be there. Unless you really don’t want me to be.”
“I don’t care if you come.”
Doesn’t care? She dried herself off as fast as she could, trying not to be offended. “Nearly done,” she said, stumbling into her panties. Once she got her bra on, she felt a little safer. Getting the dress on was another matter while being damp. “I’m dressing,” she said, wondering where he was.
He didn’t answer, so maybe he’d left.
She picked her pajamas up and carried her heels out of the shower area. She made her way to the laundry closet in the bathroom and tossed her clothes in, then slipped her heels on, grabbing a towel off the shelf then shutting the door. Removing the excess water from her hair, she gave several shakes of her head until the wet clumps lay straight. Eyeing herself in the mirror before the vanity, she reached in the top of her dress and lifted her boobs being squashed down by the material. She’d need to find a pin after she got her makeup and hair done.
