by Aubrey Watts
I exhaled a deep breath when the door closed.
“Anyway,” Nina spoke up, “what were you saying?”
“Right.” I cleared my throat. “Ulysses. You remind me of him.”
“Yeah? How?”
I waved a hand at her. “He wants the world. You want the world…”
“I don’t want the world, Anders,” she interrupted, shaking her head and keeping her voice low. “Just a piece of it.”
I swallowed hard and pulled myself from the memory, trailing a finger down her neck and over the soft cleft of her cleavage. We spoke with our actions. Her fingers moved hastily as she undid my jeans and used her legs to ease them down.
“Please,” she begged, pulling at my shirt and clutching my flexed biceps as I pulled it off and tossed it to the ground.
She gasped when she saw my scars and I froze, not entirely sure of how she would react to them. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, tracing her fingertips over each one.
I started to tell her that it was all right, that it was just another part of the job description, but I stopped when I felt her lips press against my flesh. Before I could react, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of my briefs and pulled them down in one sharp tug. I groaned and kissed her with every ounce of intensity I had on reserve, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth as she clawed at my back and kneaded the fading tattoos on my shoulders.
A million sensations rushed through me all at once when she took me in her hands, guiding me inside of her and adjusting her legs to accommodate my girth. The soft whimper that slipped from her mouth damn near sent me over the edge, but I regained my composure, easing slowly inside of her as her body formed to mine.
Everything we did was synchronized. I eased forward and she eased up, a wet moan brushing against the cusp of my neck every time I stroked her favorite spot.
And god…
She was so fuckin’ beautiful.
Even like this, with her face all contorted and flushed and her hair sticking up in every direction. I groaned and grabbed hold of her buttocks, pressing her harder against the wall as the pressure in my loins began to build in intensity. “I’m close,” I warned her, nibbling at her earlobe.
Her cleavage bounced free from the captivity of her blouse. I pressed a sweaty palm against her mouth to keep her quiet and when we came, we came together, lost time and sexual tension dissolving into a single, electrifying release that radiated throughout both our bodies
When it was finally over, a comfortable silence settled over us. I pressed a kiss against her temple and started to gather my clothes but she held out a hand to stop me. “Just stay a minute,” she pleaded, meeting eyes with me. “Please?”
I nodded and smiled at her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and pulling her sweaty form against mine. “Of course,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And I didn’t.
Chapter 3
—
“Anders?” the therapist’s shrill voice jolted me forward. She spoke tentatively, keeping her eyes trained on me. She was giving me that look shrinks seemed to have down to a practice. That condescending ‘I’m trying to understand you’ look. “You look like you might want to share something…”
“No,” I clarified, clearing my throat. “I’m good…”
“Are you sure?” she insisted, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Look, I’m well aware that these sessions are court ordered—that none of you would be here if you didn’t have to be—but that doesn’t mean they can’t benefit you if you let them…”
A guy seated in a chair in the corner of the room snickered and I smiled at him. “I get it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I just don’t have an answer to your question.”
She sighed and turned her attention to the woman sitting beside me—who was staring off into space and twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Amy,” she said, looking down at the file flipped open in her lap. “Would you care to share anything?”
I stood up as Amy began to speak and pulled on my jacket. “I have to piss,” I noted, limping towards the door.
“Five minutes!” she called after me, “after that you’ll get a demerit!”
Yeah, yeah…
I stepped outside the weathered brick building and lit a smoke, making a beeline for my bike and easing myself onto the heavy leather seat. It started up on the first try and I turned out of the parking lot without looking back, feeling the engine shake and sputter beneath me.
T H E N
Nina sat quietly across from me. We were in a booth in the back of Louie’s—a little hole in the wall famous for its never-ending supply of draft beer. We came here on a whim. I was starving and she kept making a point of how badly she needed a drink after her shift ended.
I was frozen by her presence.
Her olive skin glowed against silky brown hair and her dimples became more pronounced as she chewed. She caught me staring at her and frowned, a slight smile curving over her full lips as she reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.
Everything around me blurred when we met eyes.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she breathed. “I don’t think I ever stopped worrying about you.”
I smiled at her and took a sip of my drink. “I wish you could read my letters,” I told her.
She furrowed her brows and took a slow bite of the French fry balanced her fingers. “I wonder if Liam kept them.”
I shrugged and sloshed around the melting ice in my glass. Somehow I doubted it. If I were in his shoes I sure as shit wouldn’t have. But I didn’t tell her that. “Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “Back at the diner…that was—”
“Amazing,” she finished for me, biting down on her bottom lip as she studied her hands. Her face was all elongated and scrunched up in that way it only ever was when she was thinking about something.
"Hey—Nean," I said, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze, "what is it?”
She started to say something but was interrupted by a passing waitress, who stopped in front of our table to ask if we need a refill on our drinks.
“We're fine, thanks,” Nina answered, welcoming the distraction. “Actually could we get our bill?”
“Sure. Together or separate?”
She looked over at me and answered before I could. “Separate, please."
The waitress nodded and walked off and Nina turned her attention back to me. “When I didn’t hear from you I thought you might have been dead,” she said quietly, “I’m not sure what Liam would do without you…”
“I’m not sure what I would do without you.” She stumbled a bit on that last part and took a sip of her melting beer to regain her composure.
When the waitress reappeared, I insisted on paying the bill and Nina decided not to make a show of protesting too much. After, we lingered in the parking lot for a while with our backs pressed against my bike and I lit a smoke, offering one to her. She took it and smiled at me, lighting it with the end of mine.
“You know,” she spoke up after awhile, breaking our comfortable silence. “When I heard you were back in town I didn’t believe it. I thought about askin’ your daddy where you were staying but…”
“But?”
She shrugged and ashed her cigarette. “I couldn’t work up the courage, I guess.” She swallowed hard and rubbed her tongue over her lips, flicking her eyes up to meet mine.
I exhaled a deep breath. I never could control myself when she looked at me like that. Without a word, I reached forward and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, gently cupping her face in my hands.
“Anders,” she breathed. “I don’t know if we should do this…”
But I didn’t listen. I kissed her with everything I had in me and she relented, dropping her cigarette to the ground and locking her arms around my neck.
The rest was a blur.
I took her back to the cheap efficiency apartment I was staying at until I found a m
ore permanent living situation and we scurried up the stairwell without talking, relying on each other and the off-white walls to help us keep our balance. I fumbled with my keys and swung open the door.
This place was bare bones compared to Liam’s lavish estate out in Shoreline, but she didn’t seem to mind. She kicked off her shoes and stood in the darkness a few feet away from me, her eyes dark and propositioning.
I shut the door and watched as she collapsed on the futon in the center of the room, lifting her feet onto the coffee table and knocking off empty beer cans and clawed open envelopes in the process.
I crawled on top of her and peeled off her work shirt as her lips found their way to my neck and a soft moan vibrated against her vocal cords. I pulled away from her breathlessly and we met eyes. I could never seem to look at her the way she looked at me, with that wide-eyed fascination that conveyed exactly what she was thinking in the moment.
I sat up and stumbled into the tiny kitchen, grabbing a bottle of champagne I had been saving for this very occasion, should it ever occur. It was Taittinger—the expensive kind she said she liked because it tasted like berries.
I poured two glasses of it and stood in the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the “apartment”, drumming my fingers against the counter as I kissed the rim of the glass and took a slow drink. It was smooth and sticky-sweet. “You’re perfect,” I told her, reaching for her glass and taking a step towards her, “I just thought I’d remind you.”
“You’re sweet,” she laughed, sitting up to take the glass from my hands and curling her smudged lips over the edge of it. “But I’m not. No one is.”
I shook my head and reached out to brush her bangs away from her face. “You are,” I insisted.
She ignored me and set down her glass, reaching behind her back. “I can’t get this damn clasp,” she whispered, leaning towards me, “Can you?”
I swallowed the knot in my throat and pulled on it, my fingertips brushing against her freckled flesh. She eased her arms out of the bra straps and exhaled a deep breath, swallowing back the last of the too-sweet liquid as our eyes locked, a clash of brown on blue.
I pulled her against me and kissed her. The champagne lingered on her lips and tongue. My hands found their way to her hips as she arched her body on top of mine. We fit together perfectly and I could feel myself beginning to throb against her inner thighs.
She rocked against me and pulled my shirt over my head, trailing her small hands expertly down my chest. I was hard as a rock now and she seemed to take pride in it, smiling slightly as she took me in her hands through the fabric of my pants. A soft murmur escaped from the corners of her mouth. “Anders,” she breathed, bending down to whisper in my ear. “I want to be with you.”
And that was all I had to hear…
Chapter 4
—
The bridge was empty when I arrived. But it was late. Everyone with any ounce of sanity was at home—safe within the confines of their beds. Not out frolicking around the forgotten part of Kitsap County.
I parked my bike under some oak trees and walked onto the unsteady platform, balancing my feet between the wooden planks as I dropped my smoke between them and watched the burning ember disappear into the dark current below.
It was hard to believe this place was bleeding with life once; but so much about this city had changed in the past decade. So much about me had changed. I was a ghost in human for; all the important parts about me, like this place, had dissolved a long time ago.
I rolled up my sleeves and examined the thick scars on my inner arms. Pulling a move like that in prison didn’t lend you any empathy; all you got was an extra set of eyes on you at all times and a month long stay in the infirmary. But it had felt right in the moment.
I walked closer to the edge and leaned against the termite-chewed wood. The corners of my eyes stung but I clenched my jaw and maintained my composure as I eased myself over the edge of the railing—holding onto it as I removed my jacket and set it down on the other side.
We used to do this all the time as kids—much to our parents disapproval. They always told us we would be sure to bite the dust if we fell the twenty or so feet into the rocky water below but we didn’t care. There was a lot we didn’t care about back then.
My past haunted me. It was like James Joyce had said in Ulysses, “history was a nightmare from which I was trying to awake.”
I laughed.
Nina would be impressed that I remembered that. I swung my legs against the concrete beams holding up the bridge as the wind picked up, blowing my hair around my face in torrents. I needed to get it cut soon. She never much liked it this long but that didn’t stop her from twirling it around her finger every chance she got.
I didn’t ever cry. Crying was for pussies and I sure as shit wasn’t one, but the familiar prickling sensation in the corners of my eyes was testing my reserves. I gripped the wood and leaned forward, looking back down at the lapping water. I was struck by the notion that if I fell—I would fall quickly—weighted down by the endless emptiness inside of me.
Liam would be left with the Bonneville and the rest of my material possessions. Nina’s parents would have the money I had saved up from my Veterans checks. And my body would find a new home somewhere deep in the Pacific.
But it wasn’t that easy was it?
With a deep sigh, I pressed my back against the railing and shook a cigarette free from my pack. I went to climb back over the railing but an intense gust of wind caused the platform to buckle and Nina’s voice—soft as honey—slipped through the breeze.
“Careful.”
T H E N
“I missed coming here,” she said as she bounced along the decaying bridge, her dark hair blowing around her neck, a half-smoked cigarette dangling between her fingers. “We always had fun didn’t we?”
I nodded. “We did.”
“Do you remember when Liam made that raft?” She leaned against the railing and flattened her hair away from her face. “That thing was so fucking fun.”
“I remember,” I said stepping onto the loose planks behind her, “I remember it almost killing you, that’s what I remember.
“Oh don’t be so dramatic.” She sucked her lips. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Except it had been.
Nina laughed and stumbled along the bridge, nearly tripping and grabbing hold of the flaking railing to help regain her balance.
“Careful!” I called out to her. I looked at the scar behind her ear and swallowed hard.
I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before the town tore this thing down. It really wasn’t safe. But she liked coming here and I liked having a reason to be around her.
“Look!” she called out to me, amusement heavy in her tone as she skipped over the wide gaps in the planks. She knew it made me nervous as hell when she did that. I looked tentatively down at the water and swallowed hard.
Heights I could handle. It was the looming reminder that the impact of the water would kill her—kill me—that made me feel uneasy. But mortality never seemed to bother her.
“Oh don’t be such a worry wart,” she laughed, spinning on her feet.
I pointed at the current. “Do you see how fast the water is moving right now?”
“You worry too much,” she said, over enunciating the word ‘worry.’
I sighed and followed close behind her, wanting to grab her if she made a wrong step. She noticed the close proximity and stopped moving, turning around to look at me.
“I’ve heard stories about people killing themselves here. Have you?” The words coming out of her mouth contradicted the slight smile on her face.
I shrugged.
“I think it’s kind of beautiful,” she said, leaning against the railing. “Not the act, of course. But jumping right into your death. I don’t know…”
“You’re morbid.”
“Would you miss me?” She furrowed her brows, suddenly serious. “If I wa
s dead?”
The fleetingness of the question made me feel uneasy.
“Are you kidding?”
“Would you?”
“Of course.” I reached for her hand. “Don’t ask questions like that.”
She cocked her head and looked out at the water. “Do you think Liam would?”
“No shit.”
She smiled coquettishly, her lips curling around the end of her cigarette. “Why are you so afraid of heights?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I’m not.” I shrugged. “I’m more afraid of you.”
She snickered and bumped her hips against mine, her dark eyes glowing against the water. I loved her. Goddamn I loved her.
“Careful,” she whispered, twisting her fingers around her cigarette and stuffing the butt of it into her pocket. I never once saw her litter. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine and she shook her head. “Careful.”
I didn’t have to ask her what she meant.
Part 2
V E N U S
Chapter 5
—
I had come to know hell as a mental health building on 5th and Broadway, nestled between a small coffee shop and a Korean owned Laundromat. And right then I was inside of it. Floor three, room two hundred and five. Seated in an eggshell white office across from the one person I detested most.
“I’ve told you a million times.” I pursued my lips at her and picked a piece of lint off my blouse. “It just isn’t working out between us.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “We’re too different.”
“Is that why he isn’t here?”
I sighed and glanced over at the empty chair beside me. “He had to work late. And I don’t think he likes the idea of this, talking to you about out marital problems. It’s awkward, isn’t it?”
“You’ve been drinking,” she observed, changing the subject and blowing on her espresso.
