Surrogate Lover

by Clara Reese

  “Charlotte,” I croon again when she shows no sign of hearing me. “Baby it’s okay. Everything’s okay. Take deep breaths with me, in and out. In and out.”

  I’m dimly aware that Janet has left the room and realize that she’s probably gone to get Ben. He’s a great guy to have around in a crisis so I’m thankful. But now it’s just the two of us and Charlotte’s sobs are breaking my already battered heart.

  I keep making soothing noises and quiet reassurances, rubbing her back with one hand and clutching her own hand in my other. Slowly, the sobs subside and I breathe a sigh of relief. I manage to drag her fully out of the car and we sit side by side on the cold concrete floor. I fumble around in my sleeves and fish out a clean tissue, then set to work mopping the tears off her cheeks while she hiccups and tries to regain control of herself.

  She opens her mouth to speak, but I shush her quietly, keeping her hand gripped firmly in mine. She flinches and closes her eyes again as I gently dab at the scar on her cheek. I don’t want her to slip back into her memories, though, so I give her arm a little shake.

  “Charlotte? It’s okay. Stay with me, yeah?”

  She opens her eyes again and throws me a small, watery smile. I finish mopping her up and we sit quietly for a few moments, her head resting on my shoulder. We’re still all alone in the garage. Janet must be having a hard time trying to track Ben down.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her voice is so quiet that it takes me a few moments to realize she is speaking at all. Her body is scrunched up so that she takes up the least amount of space possible, and instead of leaning against my shoulder she’s almost cowering behind it. She refuses to look me in the eye. I know the stance well, but it looks foreign on a woman who’s usually so strong and dominating in any situation she finds herself in.

  “No,” I insist firmly. “Don’t you dare apologise, Charlotte. You haven’t done anything wrong, it was just a panic attack. It’s not your fault.”

  “I got in the car. I shouldn’t have sat in the driver’s seat again. Why did I think I was ready?”

  The sadness and shame in her voice is too much for me to bear, and I turn to face her head on. I pull her head down so our foreheads touch. “Listen to me. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. Charlotte, please stop blaming yourself.”

  She pulls away and I get the sinking feeling that maybe I’ve gotten this wrong. Every time she’s shown weakness in front of me, she’s always pulled away and withdrew from me, sometimes for days at a time. I sit quietly and expect it to happen again this time. I know she hates feeling vulnerable.

  “I was driving.”

  I look up when she speaks. She’s not looking at me directly, rather at a spot on the car above my left shoulder. There’s a small scratch on the wing, as though whoever drives it got a bit too close to a fence post or another car. I wonder who does drive it. Or is it Charlotte’s from before?

  “We were at a party, a charity thing. Addy was wearing a green dress. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.”

  I nod. I’ve seen the few photos still scattered around the penthouse, plus some that Ben had shown me. Addy was beautiful.

  “But god that party was tedious. All men in suits boasting about how much they give and how big their checkbooks are and on and on and on. I couldn’t look at Addy all evening because if I did she’d waggle her eyebrows at me and I’d burst out laughing in the middle of a sentence. Not very appropriate when you’re discussing world poverty, is it?”

  I laugh. It definitely isn’t appropriate, but it sure must have been hilarious. Not for the first time, I feel a pang of regret that I’ll never meet Addy. I know if she were still here I wouldn’t have even met Charlotte. After all, she wouldn’t need a surrogate if she still had Addy. But I think me and Addy could have been good friends if we’d met one day.

  “Addy had had a few drinks, see, not that many but a couple. She was always adamant that you shouldn’t drive if you’ve been drinking, even just a little bit. So I drove us home.”

  Charlotte squeezes my hand in what I’m sure is an involuntary reflex. Her eyes are still fixed on the scratch on the car. I squeeze back gently and brush some strands of hair out of her beautiful eyes.

  “I wasn’t speeding. I want you to know that, Katrina. You believe me, right? I wasn’t speeding!”

  She looks at me desperately and I put my arms around her, rocking her gently. Of course I believe her. She burrows into my shoulder so that when she continues speaking her voice is muffled.

  “It was our anniversary. We always celebrate the same way, we do exactly what we did on our first date. Addy buys the same cheap wine she brought over that evening. God that was awful stuff. I try to make chocolate covered strawberries and inevitably burn the chocolate, just like I did back then. We have sex. It was always lovely.”

  I smile sadly and hold her close. I wonder involuntarily what we would do on our anniversaries, before I mentally slap myself to get rid of the notion. We’re not in a relationship, are we? We won’t be having any anniversaries.

  “It was so wet that night, I think there must have been a storm brewing. I was driving too fast, I should’ve just slowed right down. We were heading through an intersection when-“

  She breaks off abruptly and I hasten to reassure her.

  “A car came through. They should have waited at the intersection but...I don’t know, maybe they didn’t see us because of the rain and thought it was clear. I just- I closed my eyes to blink and when I opened them again, the airbags had gone off and we were upside down and the windshield was shattered. I heard sirens but when I called Addy’s name she didn’t answer. She’d never not answered before. And I knew.”

  I hold Charlotte while she cries. I know it had to have been a terrible crash. Ben had told me before that Addy had died on impact, and Charlotte broke both her legs and was in hospital for weeks. Of course, her heart had broken too.

  It seems this has been good for Charlotte though. Maybe it’s been a bit of a breakthrough. When she is able to stop crying, she looks exhausted and devastated, but also lighter somehow. Like she feels freer now that the weight she’s been shouldering all on her own has been shared with someone else.

  I gently ease us both up off the floor and support her as we slowly climb upstairs. I settle her on the couch and bring her a blanket, tucking the edges round her so she feels secure. I make her a cup of tea and place it on the coffee table beside her. I’m dithering over whether to stay with her or to give her space when she makes the decision for me by holding the blanket up and beckoning me inside.

  I snuggle in beside her.

  I want to take care of her, too. This is the best I can do.

  And I realize that when I do, and I hold her, it feels like home.

  22

  Charlotte

  Everything always comes pouring out at once. As the tears dry on my face and the emotion starts to subside, I realize that I feel kind of good. Everything feels raw and tender, but I also feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

  It’s hard always being the strong one. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened until now. I held it all inside. I know it’s ridiculous, but it felt like talking about it would make it real. I know it’s real. I’ve been living the reality ever since it happened. Addison is gone. She was amazing. She was the light of my life. But she’s not here anymore. I’ve been living alone with not even a ghost of her to keep me company.

  But that’s all changing now. Maybe that’s why I started talking about it. Maybe that’s why it finally feels okay. My home is going to be filled again. I have Katrina here with me, and the baby will be here soon. I won’t have to be lonely anymore. And, most importantly, I won’t have to face this alone.

  With some of my demons now exorcised, I clutch the mug of coffee in my hands.

  “Thank you for staying with me,” I say to Katrina. She still looks worried about me.

  “It’s all right,” she says.
“You would do the same for me.”

  “Yeah,” I respond. “But I know you didn’t do in the hopes of reciprocity, so, you know, thanks.”

  She gives me a little smile. “Of course.”

  I lean on her. She hugs me tightly.

  “Are you feeling better?” she asks.

  “I feel better than I have in a long time,” I tell her, truthfully. This won’t bring Addison back, but I’m not honoring her memory by holding this in forever. I’m glad I got this out. I’ll never move on from her, but maybe I can move forward.

  I look up at Katrina. Even though I’m taller than her, she’s cuddling me like I’m a little kid. I can’t get over how sweet she is. And there’s something more. With all of the emotions I’ve held since Addison’s death gone, I now feel new emotions filling those spaces in my heart. And the first face I see in this new part of my life is Katrina.

  I sit up and put my hands on both sides of Katrina’s face. I see every detail framed in my hands. I see her big eyes and the smattering of freckles. Every inch of her is completely perfect. I feel my chest swell with emotion as I lean in to kiss her.

  I kiss her desperately, wanting to free myself of every feeling I’ve held in my heart since Addison died. I hug her tightly to me and let everything out. I have no more tears to give right now, but I do have all of the passion in my heart.

  The room fills with erotic and emotional tension. We need each other right now. It’s like we’re in our own little bubble together. It’s just her and me. After such a stressful event, we need this release. We need to get this out, and then we can start to move forward again. I need something to fill me. I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom.

  When we reach the bed, I pull her down onto it with me. I still feel like I’m trailing three feet or so behind my body. I need her touch to remind me that I’m in the here and now. I hold her body close to mine as I kiss her. I hungrily feel over her body. The anxiety and crushing sadness I felt not long ago is replaced with a need to be close to her and have her close to me.

  We both get undressed. Our clothes lay in a pile beside the bed. I want to be as close as possible to her. I pin her arms above her head and press myself up against her. I kiss down her neck and over her breasts. I want her so badly. I run my hands over her, feeling every inch of her. My hands eventually make their way to her wrists and pin them down.

  I want to be in total control of her. I want to make her feel so good she won’t be able to walk for a week. It’s incredibly arousing to see her so willingly submit to me. I watch her body writhe underneath me as I hold her down. She arches her back towards me, wanting more contact even though we’re already so close. I smile at her attempt.

  “I want you to touch me,” she says, still moving underneath me.

  I lower myself closer to her and rub my body against hers. She moans as I do.

  “Do you like that?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she responds, breathily.

  “Tell me how much you like it,” I tell her.

  She can barely get out words as I keep rubbing on her. I take both of her wrists in one hand and begin to rub her pussy. I want her to be completely out of control. I’m going to play with her and make her orgasm as many times as I can.

  She responds enthusiastically, her hips thrusting against my hand as I massage and finger her. I slip in easily; she was so wet before I even began. I quickly find all the spots to hit. I can feel her getting closer to the edge.

  “I need more,” she tells me. Her breath hitches as she finishes speaking.

  “More?” I ask.

  “More. Yes. Anything. Please.” Her pleasure’s so intense she can only get out one word at a time.

  I get up off of her and go to the closet. I shuffle through the drawers in there until I find what I’m looking for. Domination has been something I’ve played with before, so I have the tools to do it. I pull out a pair of restraints and head over to the bed. I take her wrists and secure them, then attach them to the bed.

  When she’s fully restrained, I sit in between her legs and watch her. I run my nails up and down her body lightly, watching her squirm. She moans and gasps as I do. I smile at her.

  “Is this what you were talking about?” I ask.

  She nods. She looks like her eyes might roll back into her head. I take the opportunity of having both hands free to squeeze her breasts and play with her nipples. She moans and begs me to give her more.

  I smile to myself. I don’t want to disappoint her now, do I? I lower myself in between her legs and kiss her thighs. They tremble with each kiss as I work my way up toward their apex.

  When I finally reach it, I start slowly at first, just teasing her. She thrusts her hips against me and whimpers, begging me to take it further. I start to up the intensity, and she becomes putty in my hands. My hands alternate from gripping her hips to fingering her. No matter what I do, it only seems to increase her pleasure.

  When she finishes, she orgasms hard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an orgasm so intense in my life. I can practically see it rolling through her. I slow down my movements as she comes back to earth.

  After she orgasms, I move up her body and kiss her. Her tongue explores my mouth, tasting herself. All of the heartache and stress of today has been replaced with this intensity. My hands move along her body, feeling every inch. I want it all to be mine. I want her to belong to me.

  23

  Katrina

  Things with Charlotte never seem to slow down. One minute she’s having a breakdown and the next we’re kissing. I can’t say I’m unhappy that we’re kissing though. She was so distraught. It really scared me. I’m not used to being the one to take charge. Maybe it’s the motherly instinct coming out with this pregnancy, but I really want to take care of her. I want to fix this for her. So, I stayed and comforted her, and I’m glad I did.

  But then it was like a switch flipped. I know we both felt it. Letting all of those emotions out left a black hole in their wake. And we need something to fill it. She needs me as much as I need her. So, we kiss and use our bodies to express all the things words cannot. We had a hard night. The hardest night we’ve ever had together. But we got through it. Charlotte got through the trauma and made it out the other side lighter. I feel incredibly proud of her, and I want to keep healing those wounds.

  I know we both feel the tension in the room. You could practically cut through it with a knife. I go from cuddling her to her taking back her Domme self and kissing me. I want it. She knows how much I want it. I can’t get over her. She’s always surprising me. One minute she’s having a breakdown, and the next, she’s sweeping me off my feet again.

  Everything melts away as we kiss. The breakdown, the chaos, the fear all melt away. It’s just me and her. Our passion wraps around us like a blanket and shields us from the world. I sink into her, letting her pull me into her lust. I wrap my arms around her, wanting to be closer to her. Even the smallest things, like the fabric from our clothes, frustrates me. I want to be as close to her as possible. I need her.

  She gets up and pulls me towards the bedroom. Everything begins to happen all at once. We’re walking, and then the bed is at my back. Its soft pressure supports my weight. She gets on top of me and begins to kiss and feel me all over. I kiss her back, wanting her as much as she wants me. We get undressed, pawing at each other’s clothes. They pile up beside the bed, forgotten and no longer needed.

  She pins my wrists to the bed and begins to kiss over my chest and breasts. Each kiss is like a zap of lightning. The feeling radiates directly between my legs. I can already feel myself getting wet as we begin. Her breasts slide against my stomach as she kisses me. I want more. So much more. I arch my back to try to get more of her. If I can’t feel her with my hands, I’ll do whatever I can.

  But it’s not enough. All that I get from her are those sweet kisses. The anticipation is building, and it’s driving me insane. I need her right now.

  “I want you to touch me,” I t
ell her.

  A grin crawls across her face. She loves putting me in this position. If I wasn’t so worked up, I would pout at her cockiness.

  She begins to rub her body against mine. Her chest meets mine, and I get the touch I so desperately crave. The way she slides over me feels so delicious. I wish I could have her naked and against me all the time.

  “Do you like that?” she asks, rubbing her body against mine.

  “Yes,” I tell her. Nothing has ever felt so good, I think to myself.

  “Tell me how much you like it,” she commands me.

  I try to respond, but then she takes both wrists in one hand and begins to finger me and play with my clit. The words I try to say come out as breathless moaning. I could practically melt right then and there. She feels amazing. I love the way she feels inside of me. Her fingers know ever way to go to get me off. With others, they’ve had to poke and prod and it’s been uncomfortable at times, but with her, every action drives me closer to the edge. I can’t get enough.

  I writhe underneath her. I know how much she’s enjoying driving me to the edge and then letting me teeter. I want to orgasm so badly, but this isn’t enough. I want something else. I want to escalate things. I thrust my hips against her hand, fucking myself with her fingers. But it’s still not enough.

  “I need more,” I tell her. My breath hitches in my throat as I finish speaking.

  “More?” She asks.

  “More. Yes. Anything. Please.” It’s all I can do to get the words out. I feel lightheaded with the effort.

  She gets off of me. I miss her warmth and the feeling of her body against me. She goes into the closet and starts looking through the things there. When she emerges, she comes out with restraints.