Landslide

by Jenn Cooksey

  It’s a costly high that’s not easy to come down from, yet…feeling her hand flutter across and then slide underneath the invisible boundaries we’ve adhered to ever since that wretched night has me remembering what gravity feels like. It hurts. Better to burn and crash into a lake or grassy plains than a frozen tundra made of iron ferrite though.

  “Erica…don’t. I can’t. I’m too drunk to—”

  “You’re not that drunk.”

  She gently wraps her hand around my erection to call my bluff, and of their own accord, my eyes shamefully squeeze shut. I’m not Superman, though, and I can’t go through this with her. No matter how much I want to give in, I know I shouldn’t. Things might be different in my eyes now, but they’re not in hers. When she closes her eyes, it’s Holden she sees. And, I just don’t think that’s a threesome I can handle again. The night of his funeral was different. It was the night I recognized, albeit only in a dark, un-traversed corner of my mind that’s just recently had a flashlight shone in it, that Erica is my kryptonite. I’m all but powerless when she’s anywhere near me. But, that night wasn’t about me—none of the moments we’ve shared have been. Not really, anyway. Sure, I get something out of them, but what I’m getting by masquerading for the moment as someone I want to be in real life is being able to help alleviate the pain of loneliness and abandonment that I know she still feels.

  “Please, will you let me?”

  My eyes open once again; she still hasn’t relinquished her hold on me, although it’s not that making it more difficult for me to deny her…to not crumble and give her everything she asks of me and even what she doesn’t. It’s the request itself. There’s something different about the tone of her voice and her expression. It has me questioning myself, her, and everything. “Why?”

  “Because I want to. It doesn’t have to mean anything, but you’ve done it for me and that does mean something. It’ll make me feel good to make you feel good for once.”

  My restraining grip on her wrist loosens almost imperceptibly. A selfish voice inside me begins raising a ruckus and clamors to be given the podium, completely disregarding the stinging phrase, ‘it doesn’t have to mean anything.’ As always, it declares my actions as justified if it’s about making her happy, but now it incorporates an argument against what I know to be true. It promises that if I allow myself this one thing tonight, I won’t resent the decision when reality dawns with the rising sun, just like it does after every night my alter ego gets to spend with her…and that tomorrow and every day after won’t be impossible for either him or me.

  “Please…” And just like that, as if she had a damned map to locate it, her beguiling petition drifts on a kiss light as a feather over the ever sensitive sweet spot behind my ear, shooting a delectable and utterly mouthwatering shiver all the way to my toes, momentarily quieting the prosecution and winning the court’s reluctant favor.

  On a soundless, acquiescing sigh, I shift again and gradually lean back to lay flat, my hand grudgingly releasing hers and allowing it to encircle me more completely. I can feel the smile playing on her lips when she places them here and there on my neck and chest as she moves over me and uses her free hand to push my boxers down as far as she can get them before the task is transferred to her feet. Her semi-chaste up and down strokes being made with barely enough pressure begin flooding my mind with memories, though, reminding me of the first time Erica held me like this and all the twisted pleasure and utter despair that was brought to me then.

  Her eyes find mine when her pace slows fractionally and I lift the cover of my hand from where it’s been hiding them and blocking out as much as I possibly can. Funny thing about ghosts and feelings though…they can squirm into the tiniest of cracks and crevasses, and are usually more often noticed in the grim black of night.

  “Is this right? I—haven’t really done this…you, you know, stopped me. I just…well, does it feel good so far?”

  I want to say no; I want her to stop. And I don’t all the same. Because the disgraceful truth is, it does feel good. Her undeveloped technique is halting, neither of us thought ahead enough to grab a bottle of Jergen’s so I’m dry—not counting the droplets of pre-cum that I’m sure were probably brought forth instantaneously when she broke the above the belt rule in the first place—and there are a million and one reasons swirling in my mind that either justify going through with this or why I can term what I’m allowing her to do as an act of terrorism. It still feels good. Really fucking good. Her innocence and her forthright question demonstrating her profound trust and desire to please are exciting all on their own, although even combined, they're just not quite enough to drown out the ongoing conflict in my head, or be of any help to me in deciding how to answer her…

  You should stop this. This isn’t what you want. Not really anyway.

  It’s something, though. And uh, by the way, why can’t you just be grateful? I mean, there is something to the phrase, ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,’ you know.

  You know it’s not right.

  Really? You’re gonna play that card? I think that ship sailed, buddy. Probably the night before your own father threw you out of his house.

  Right, for taking advantage of her, which is exactly what you’re doing here.

  It’s not taking advantage of someone when they ASK for permission. Besides, it would hurt her feelings to stop her now. And, she’ll cry. You know she will. But this time, you’ll be the reason for her tears, not Holden.

  And what about Holden? You might not care if he’s burning in Hell right now, but you were his friend. His best friend. You can’t deny that or erase it, and a friend like you doesn’t turn traitor to suit his own desires.

  Seriously? After today, do you really wanna define what a friend and traitor is? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

  Cole, please. I’m begging you. Stop her. I know I screwed up. I know I did. And I know I hurt you, but…be a better friend than I was. Don’t do this to me. Please.

  You hear that? Be better. Do what’s right and be better. Besides, her heart belongs to him. It always has…always will.

  You have a point there. All the more reason for you to enjoy it while you can, though.

  The barrage comes from all angles, and it’s exhausting to argue against the truth; so much so that I’m left without having breath for a lie.

  “Yeah, keep going.” I nod and place my hand over hers, helping her to create a rhythm I can use to lose myself within her good intentions, as if the more pleasure I feel, the less bound I’ll be by the ethereal chains of deprivation and a friendship past.

  I try to focus on the physical; the sensation of her lips on my body and her untrained touch instead of the contrary voices inside me, all of them declaring in different ways that I’m a thief and a coward for trying to enjoy something not meant for me. When she passionately kisses me until my breathing is ragged and then works her way down my body, I close my eyes tight against the assault within. An all-out war is being waged now; one in which Holden and a frightened little boy are leading together, making it one that I can’t win for losing. Especially when it comes to her, because even when I do the right thing, it’s still wrong and I come out indisputably defeated.

  I’m drowning, feeling like a rag doll; lost at sea and battered by waves crashing against me and within that are both delicious and devastating. I hardly notice her take her hand out from under mine to push mine away so she can continue on her own. My hands petrified of touching her but not knowing what to do now, they take it upon themselves to clutch my head and hair in indecision while I pray to the ceiling for direction or help from above. Neither is forthcoming and I feel the warmth of her breath coming from her uncorrupted lips, searing me into action.

  “Oh, Jesus. Wait.” Too late are the words and I stare at her in terrified wonderment as she reverently brings me into the safe haven of her mouth.

  Her eyes flick to mine, but now I can’t look. Feeling her tongue and lips caress my entire length
is shredding my sanity as it is; watching her do it would no doubt eviscerate me. Not only that, but that one quick look was a glimpse; a glimpse of something I think I’ve coveted my entire life, and it burns me through and through to know that I wouldn’t be here today, viciously fighting with myself and a dead man for dominance and the rights to another person’s heart…not if I’d only recognized it earlier and made a different decision. I can’t go back now though and say no. Not a single soul, dead or alive, has ever looked at me like she just did in that fleeting moment…with naked trust, adoration, and yes, even something that could best be described as love. Although none of this is out of reciprocation of my feelings, in that glimpse her eyes told me she’s still doing it all for me. For once, Holden wasn’t there, or if he was, I didn’t see him.

  However, he is still here. He’s with me.

  He was her everything…her love, her life…her future. And now he’s gone. But who am I to try to take his rightful place? The spot I unknowingly, yet voluntarily stepped away from and gave to him? It’s too late and I will never fill the hole he left in her. I’m no one now. And in this moment, I can feel my soul blackening for letting her fill the gaping emptiness inside me, and spending every last nickel and dime I have until my coffers are left with nothing but cobwebs to do it. But for relishing every single dissipated second and scorching sensation of her mouth gliding up and down over me with innocent expertise, my soul is surely being damned for eternity.

  Well, at least you have the decency to be haunted by it.

  Acceptance of the fact that I’m already lost couples with a far off knowledge that I have been for some time now, and my decision to journey closer to the crackling brimstone gates of Hell becomes almost easy. My hips begin moving, rocking in time with the tempo she’s settled into, the two of us combining to strike the perfect chord for me to ignore the clatter and silence the aggrieved apparition wailing in my mind for me to stop her; to stop the person who still loves him with everything she has before it’s too late for either of us.

  Let it go. It’s time to say goodbye. It’s time to set everything wrong in the past on fire. Torch it all and break free. You can do it. Look at her. Look at her and know, deep in your heart, it’s never too late.

  The words of encouragement—of hope—come from the most unlikely source. The once scared and forlorn boy is suddenly empowered. By what I have no idea and I’m afraid to look at Erica again; afraid to see that during this whole struggle, I’ve been here in the present with her while she’s been with someone else in a different time. Something new she does convinces me to borrow the boy’s confidence; to strike the match he holds out for me and lift my head to look at her. Nothing happens and still keeping myself from touching her, I’m able to cope. That is, until she glances up at me from under her lashes.

  Because when she does, the dam holding back all of Hell crumbles around us and breaks free at last.

  Her eyes smoldering into mine, she lavishes attention on my engorged head with her tongue, finding and tasting the glistening drop of fluid she finds at the tip before completely covering me with her mouth to take me in deep. She doesn’t once break eye-contact, seizing my heart and lungs with the stark emotion that appears to be reflected back up at me in her heated gaze. Despite a severely rocky prelude and the gradually building crescendo, the finale sneaks up on me fast and I find myself having to forcibly swallow words that, no matter how true, to utter them in this moment would make them a premature cliché.

  A low moan escapes her throat. It cuts through my resolve; my eyes rolling back into my head and making me groan in response, those three words balancing precariously off the tip of my tongue. I bite them back again and open my eyes to stare at her once more, watching me watch her repeatedly draw me in as far as she can. It’s then that in addition to blurting out that I am wholly, beyond all reason, fiercely in love with her, I recognize the imminence of one other thing I desperately don’t want to do.

  One hand clenches the sheet beside me and the other flagrantly disobeys my will and flies from behind my head to her shoulder, my fingers digging into her soft flesh, as if either of them gripping onto something the way they are can stop what’s about to happen.

  “Oh shit, Erica. Stop. I don’t wanna cum in your mouth. Please…stop.” Frantically pulling at her, praying she’ll heed my warning, I know that although each word would come from my charred soul, my soul isn’t ready to say them…and her heart certainly isn’t ready to hear them. “Come here…I need you to kiss me. Now.”

  With words of bleeding love unadulterated straining at their reins to be set free, like a thundering herd pawing at the smoke and fire engulfing us, the plea is barely out of my mouth before rapture begins to strangulate me. I feel myself panting; it’s the maximum I can do now to stave off the inevitable. Short huffs of electrified air echo the cadence of my pounding heart until she finally relents, giving me her lips and breath, my hand joining hers in working me to a moment of release pure and unfettered.

  Our tongues hardly have the few seconds it takes them to twist and tangle before behind my eyelids, starbursts fly through the night. It’s a light show the glory of which has never before been witnessed; not in my lifetime’s experience anyway. Of course now, the meager sparks lit in me by others previously as well as those promised by anyone else in the future will forever fall short in comparison to this grandiosity.

  The little boy in me, though, tall and proud now, tucks that bittersweet truth away—not forever; he’ll give it back when it’s time—and then he confidently takes his place in front of the bonfire of guilt and memories, and for once righteous, he will remain there, respectfully standing vigil over everything in me that’s been burnt to ash.

  Our breathing slows and our lips leave each other’s; hers move to drop sweet and tender kisses onto my neck and cheek, and mine go to nuzzle her temple as I pull her closer, a deep, satiated sigh escaping from them at the same time.

  “You okay?” she mutters, pulling her hair out from under her cheek and getting herself more settled by finding her head’s favorite comfy spot on my chest.

  I like being her pillow. It sucks for me in terms of sleeping, but, I figure I can sleep when I’m dead.

  “Yeah, I’m good. Better than good.” The admission feels good too. It feels right.

  Replete in almost every way, another gust of air comes from my lungs and one hand starts habitually weaving its fingers through Erica’s hair; the other running over my face as I acknowledge to myself just how much I’ve been repressing; how pent up I’ve allowed myself to become. I didn’t really realize it until now, after all the nagging negativity, hostility, and completely bottled up intensity has been, for now, let go of. I’ve been holding onto so damned much but it was like trying to hold onto thin air with my bare hands. I was afraid though that if I were to let go, there wasn’t anything except an empty abyss of darkness waiting to swallow me. So, I kept grasping at a rope made of nothing to keep myself from falling.

  “Wow. I didn’t think I did, but…I needed that. Really bad.”

  “I know. I remember I did too, and now we’re even,” she whispers with not a trace of a tear in hers eyes or voice, but rather, grateful satisfaction is heard as she snuggles even closer.

  I don’t have any idea how many minutes tick by before a teary yawn threatens and explains in no uncertain terms just exactly how spent I am; however, I’m pretty sure it can’t have been more than one or two. So knowing I’ll probably soon become the embodiment of a stereotype by passing out on a girl, I use my last vestiges of energy to search for my boxers with my toes. Once they’re in my free hand and I’m done using them to clean us both up a little, I give in to the joyous feeling of being utterly depleted in every way imaginable, and smile to myself as I settle her as close to me as I can.

  Then she giggles. “So…tell me, just how bad do you want a cigarette right now?”

  I feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion and looking down at her, I give her
a questioning look. “Now that you mention it, pretty bad. Why?”

  “Because you keep putting my hair in your mouth,” she answers and laughs at me again before taking the gathered strands of hair from my fingers that I have, in fact, been subconsciously sucking on. “If I get up and get you one, can I have one of my own?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if you get up and get one, will you share it with me?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she whines the query and I chuckle at her through another yawn.

  “Uh, hello, am I gonna have to start calling you Smokey Joe? You keep forgetting that you don’t smoke, and because you keep forgetting, I’ve been burning through more than a pack a day. Plus, everyone knows smoking in bed is dangerous…if you fall asleep you can burn your house—er, house on wheels down.”

  “Oh please, you smoke in bed all the time,” she accuses and then turns her head marginally so she can express her feelings of being denied what her shiny new addiction is craving by biting me.

  It’s not hard, but it’s enough to make my pectoral muscles flinch and cause me to narrow my eyes at her while I try to decide if and/or how I want to make her pay for it. We’ve never been playful like this before. I mean we have, but it’s most often been in public and both of us have always had clothes on. This is different for us. And now after thinking about it, actually, I kind of want to bite her back. The yawn I’m overcome with though reminds me that I really just don’t have it in me.

  Although… The nibbling I can just barely feel threatening me with another bite gives me a small surge of after-burn bravery. “Alright, Smokey, you want the truth? You literally sucked the life outta me and I got nothin’ left.”