by Ally Sky
Well, at least he’s saying it gently. He could’ve been a lot more direct. I’m doing a shitty job.
“I know my limits. I’m fine,” I utter my biggest lie. I already know I am not okay. I’m having mood swings every few days, sometimes every few hours. But I’m painting like I haven’t painted in ages and I like the way I’m writing, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to take pills, which will ruin all this.
“If you say so.” He doesn’t sound pleased. I take another sip, frustrated. Why can’t we just sit and laugh together? Why do we always end up having these serious conversations?
“So, my dear workaholic, what did you do today?” I make a desperate attempt to improve the atmosphere between us.
“I had a good meeting with Sarah.” He smiles slightly and divulges what I wanted to know. “And then I had to leave the office to go and meet John Ceiling, but, what do you know, he stood me up.”
“That’s not very nice of him,” I laugh, feeling relieved. This is far better.
“And what were you thinking of doing this weekend?”
“Oh, I have so many plans. But you’ll have to find out on your own.” I smile slyly at him.
“Talia…” His voice is serious again.
“God, I’m kidding, I haven’t got anything planned.” I get defensive.
What is he afraid of? Until now, it doesn’t seem like he’s suffered too much from my crazy schemes.
“Then you don’t have any contingency plans and surprise tricks for the weekend?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Do you have any suggestions?” I ask seductively.
“No,” he replies.
I finish my brandy, and my phone rings in my bag. I pull it out and glance at the screen. Danny. I look at Ben, startled, and answer.
“Hi,” I say as a pair of green eyes stare at me uneasily. “Did you get my message?”
“Yes, when are you coming back?” He starts with his usual inquisitions.
“I don’t know, maybe in the morning.” My eyes search for approval in Ben’s solemn face. He doesn’t move a muscle.
“John told me you’ve met someone. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I haven’t had time.”
“Are you with him now?”
“Yes.”
“I’d love to meet him. Don’t get into any trouble, okay?” I wince; he meets him every day.
“Okay, I’ll see you.” I end the awkward conversation.
“Danny?” Ben confirms.
“Yes.”
“He thinks you’ve met someone.”
“Yes, John told him, like I thought he would.” I put my phone back into my bag. “Please, don’t let this bother you, not now.”
“If he finds out, I don’t know who’ll be in bigger trouble, you or me,” he says, sounding quite annoyed, as he takes a last sip of his whiskey.
“You.” I smile playfully. “You know it’s impossible to be cross with me.”
His face softens and he smiles at me.
“If you’ve finished drinking and you think you’re drunk enough, my sofa’s waiting for us.” My body awakens to him. I’m going to spend another night in his arms.
I ask for the bill. The waiter approaches and I manage to grab the bill from his hand and give him my credit card before Ben can react.
“Do you really think you’re buying?” He rolls his eyes at me.
“Me? No way. It’s courtesy of John Ceiling.” I laugh and indicate to the waiter to take my card before Ben can do anything about it.
“You don’t have to pay.”
“And you don’t have to make a chauvinistic issue out of it,” I retort, firmly clarifying that he shouldn’t waste his breath arguing about this.
The waiter returns with my card, and we leave the bar, which is just a few streets from Ben’s house.
“Did you come on foot?” I ask, as we walk down the street. Ben has one hand in his pocket and the other holding his briefcase. We can’t afford to be caught holding hands in the street, and I’m not even so sure he wants to hold my hand.
“Yes, someone chose a good location.” He grins at me.
“Thanks. Quite a bit of thought went into it.”
“You really need to do something with your creativity.”
“I do lots.”
“Are you still painting?”
“Yes.”
“And writing?”
“Also.” I smile widely when I think of what I will write about tonight.
“I’m dying to read it.” He laughs, and I can only think he’d go crazy if he had any idea.
“I gave you something to read at the park. You didn’t seem impressed.” I recall his ambiguous reaction.
“Is that what you think?” He sounds surprised.
“Yes,” I answer anxiously. “You never said anything except ‘shattering’ if I can recall your words correctly.”
“Do you want to know what I thought about it?”
I’m dying to know what he thought about it.
“Yes.” I feel my heart racing.
“I thought it was very personal. I was amazed by your writing, by your sensitivity, and by the realization just how fragile you are. I must admit…it freaked me out.”
He loved it. For real. And he thinks my writing is amazing. But why did it freak him out?
“What freaked you out? My demons?” I ask anxiously. He hasn’t run away yet, and I don’t want him to because of this conversation.
“Talia, I know you’re not a regular girl. You’re the one who’s making such an issue, demons and fairies. But I read it and freaked out because I realized just how easily you get hurt. And I really don’t want to be the one to hurt you.” He’s somber as he takes his keys out of his pocket.
“I’m glad you liked it,” I reply, completely ignoring his answer.
I’m not making a big deal out of anything. He’s the one who has no idea how I can be, the highs and lows I can reach.
And I could really get hurt. However, right now, standing in front of his white, wooden door, I don’t care.
We’re lying on the sofa, wrapped around each other and panting. Our clothes are strewn on the floor, by our feet. My head is on his smooth chest as we lie with our eyes closed, wrapped up in our own thoughts. Ben’s hand caresses my back, up and down. He threads his fingers through mine, and we don’t say a word. I could stay like this forever, entangled, and listening to my perplexing man breathing. Just a moment ago, he whispered to me how much I amazed him. He stared at me, his eyes filled with confusion as he whispered how much he wanted me. Maybe a tiny fissure is starting to appear in this fortified wall he’s built between us? I float as I imagine being entangled with him for days and nights and months and years to come. I imagine him mustering courage and surrendering to me, giving me his heart.
A loud knock at the door startles us both and we jump up. Ben looks at me in alarm, but I pull myself together and bend down to find my clothes.
“Who is it?” Ben shouts, putting on his tight, grey boxer shorts.
“Danny! What’s going on, are you opening or what?” Ben’s eyes widen. Okay, he’s overreacting a bit. He stares at me seriously.
“What?” I put my shirt on.
“Go into the bedroom.” He points to the hallway.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“Talia, don’t start now, okay? Go into the bedroom and keep quiet. I’ll get rid of him as quickly as I can.” He puts on his black pants and gives me the rest of the clothes to take with me as I go and hide in the other room. I glare at him one last time and reluctantly go sit on the bed like a good girl, in my panties and shirt. I leave the door slightly ajar, trying to hear the goings-on in the living room.
“Hi, what took you so long?” I Danny’s voice fills the hallway.
“I was just on my way to the shower.” Ben makes up an excuse. That does explain why he’s only half-dressed. No way Danny will guess what he did with his li
ttle sister on the sofa just a few minutes ago.
“Are you coming to the pub?” Danny’s voice gets louder, and it seems as though he’s sitting down on the sofa. I hope Ben’s going to get rid of him, because I have no intention of sitting here all night.
“No, I need to finish a few things on the computer before the weekend.”
“What’s going on with Ronnie? John was concerned today.”
I hear the sound of the fridge door opening and the clinking of bottles reaches the bedroom.
He’s not going to have a beer now and leave me here, is he?
“I don’t know. I’m also worried,” Ben answers in a tone that leaves no room for doubt. This Ronnie, whoever he is, must be really important to him. “Well, I’m just going to throw a shirt on.” I hear footsteps in the hallway. The door opens and Ben enters the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
He’s holding his brown, leather bag, which he sets near the door and walks over to me. Still sat on the bed, I look up at him. He stands between my legs and runs his hands through my hair.
“It seems that your brother has decided to stay for a beer,” he whispers and looks at me seriously, however, I swear I can detect a tiny smile creeping up at the side of his mouth.
“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” I grumble and roll my eyes.
“My laptop is in my bag. I’m sure you’ll be able to work it. Can I trust you to not to do anything crazy and stay here like a good girl?”
“And if I say no?” I smile sweetly, not planning on causing any problems.
“I’ll go with him to a pub and leave you to find your way home alone.” He smiles cheekily. “So what will it be?”
Ugh. We both know I’m not going anywhere. Well, at least he’s leaving me his laptop. He goes to the walk-in closet behind a small, white door and comes out after a few seconds wearing a white T-shirt.
“I’ll make it quick.” He leans toward me, lifts my chin, and gives me a sweet kiss on the lips. I don’t know if it’s because he’s grateful I’m on my best behavior, or because he can’t wait for Danny to leave so I can be in his bed again, naked. He leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and I can’t hear them talking anymore.
I get up, take the laptop out the brown briefcase, and lie on the bed on my stomach, my legs toward the door. I go into my blog and start typing.
Friday
June 8th 2012
Locked Up in the Tower
Just like Rapunzel, I find myself locked up in the tower, waiting for my happy ending, for my prince to come and set me free. Innocent Rapunzel. She also wanted the sweet and sentimental ending of ‘happily ever after.’
To my joy, my tower is a big, pampering bed and I have a laptop. My prince is sitting in the living room, drinking beer with the wicked witch, who, in this story, happens to be a blood relative of mine.
And I’m not as innocent as Rapunzel. I’m well aware that my prince can get on his horse at any given moment (or his luxurious Porsche) and flee for his life when he decides he’s had enough fun.
And then I’ll find out I’m not Rapunzel, just some random Bond girl whose name no one knows. But at this very moment, as I wait in his bed, I’m willing to be anyone he wants me to be. Don’t get me wrong, I know how pathetic that sounds— like a total sixteen-year-old. But that’s me, a twenty-six-year-old girl acting like a teenager, including heart palpitations, giggling, crazy hormones, and zero inhibitions.
Stick around. Summer’s here, and it’s going to be hot…
Talula
I hear the bedroom door opening. I have no idea how much time has passed. I turn away from the computer and find a pair of playful eyes smiling at me from the door.
“I apologize. It took longer than planned.” He stands there without moving, a smile spread all over his face.
“I forgive you,” I answer and start turning onto my back, but he stops me.
“Don’t turn around.”
I gulp and try to imagine what he has in mind. I roll back onto my stomach and stare at the computer screen, although I’m not reading a thing. I’m only listening to the movement in the room. I can hear him getting undressed, and the thought of him naked sends exciting signals up my thighs.
His steps pad slowly across the carpet toward me, and then he climbs onto the bed, kneeling between my legs. I close my eyes, trying to control my poor, racing heart.
He strokes my thighs gently, up and down while I lean on my elbows allowing his hands to continue wandering, entering the space between my panties and my waist. He pulls them down with agonizing slowness so only my ass is exposed to him.
“Did you enjoy your time here alone?” he whispers, his hands continuing with the torture. He passes his thumb over the cleft between my buttocks.
“I enjoy it more when you’re here…” I stammer, as he slides his finger inside me, turns it around, and I release a loud moan.
His other hand explores my ass. I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel embarrassed, lying on my stomach with all the lights on, while his hands do unimaginable things to my body.
He pulls his finger out slowly, and I groan, longing for his touch inside me. He pushes it in again, and then an endless cycle begins, in, out, and around. I try to be quiet, but the feelings he arouses in me…I know what he’s doing. He doesn’t want me to be quiet. He wants to hear how good it is, how good he makes me feel.
He takes out his wonderful finger, yanks my panties off, and throws them to the floor. I get rid of my shirt and he lies on top of me, skin to skin. I can feel him between my legs, his large erection ready for me. He entwines his fingers with mine, stretches our arms up, past our heads, and leans on our arms. I press my fingers into his palm, as he eases into me slowly and groans in my ear.
“I love being inside you so much…” he whispers, and his breathing intensifies as he goes in and out of me at an increasingly fast pace. “You’re amazing…”
I match his rhythm, raising my hips each time to meet him. The feeling of him inside me is perfect, it’s so deep, so fulfilling. My body is singing, waiting for him to come back in every time he pulls out. The familiar feeling intensifies, building up inside me, between my legs. My voice hides nothing, exposing my body’s secrets. He continues at a steady rhythm, aware of what he’s doing to me, leading me on the direct track to breakdown.
“Scream…” he whispers, and I come apart beneath him, shouting his name. He slams into me time after time, and then he comes, my name falling from his lips like beautiful music to my ears and to my body. I calm down under his smooth, muscled body, which sends me to places I never knew existed. He collapses on top of me, leaning all his weight on his elbows, and I close my eyes. I don’t want to ever open them again. I don’t want to stop dreaming.
I lie beneath the big blanket, a huge and satisfied smile on my face. Ben moves one of my curls behind my ears.
“You’re so beautiful…” My tummy flips. He can tell me ‘it is what it is’ until there’s no tomorrow, but when I’m lying beside him in his big bed and he says these words to me, it feels different.
“You need to get your eyes checked.” I smile.
“You don’t see it, huh?”
“See what?” I ask quietly.
“How beautiful you are,” he replies.
“I don’t think it’s true.” I stare at him disbelievingly. I don’t understand why he says such things.
“I don’t get it.” He passes his hand over my cheek, caressing it gently.
“Don’t get what?”
“Your self-loathing…” He sighs.
“I don’t hate myself,” I answer in a low voice, knowing it’s not always true. Sometimes, I really do hate myself.
“You don’t see yourself as others do.”
“I just think they’re wrong.” I close my eyes, so he can’t see through me.
“Talia, you’re so amazing. How can you not see that?” I open my eyes and look at him, flinching at the stab of internal p
ain. His words smash me into pieces.
“I never had a reason to think I was.” I’m exposed—I hate it.
“Why?”
“Because everywhere I turned, I only saw people who wanted to take advantage of me.” My voice is shaking. Why am I telling him everything? How is he different from all the rest? Why does he want to know so much about me?
“You really have been hurt.” He caresses my cheek again gently, completely unaware of the memories overwhelming me. My throat tightens and chokes up.
“Enough times,” I mutter, trying to stop the tears.
“Who hurt you so badly?”
“You know…” I whisper. The damn memories—I don’t want to cry now.
“I don’t know. Tell me,” he says in concern.
“Men, friends, my mom, each in their own way.” I fight the terrible sensation of suffocation. “I trusted people who never deserved my trust.” His green eyes gleam, and he leans forward, kissing me again, and I breathe him in.
“You really are so beautiful. You enchanted me from the first moment,” he says tenderly, smiling, and his voice consumes me. “With your sexy bra and paintings…”
“In lace and in paint.” I blush, smiling.
“In lace and in paint.” He leans in toward me.
I let him kiss me passionately and drown inside me again, giving him everything I have.
I’m in Ben’s bed, watching his chest rise and fall peacefully. He’s asleep, and I just want to lie here and burn every breath he takes in to my memory.
I get up slowly, trying not to make any noise. I put on my panties and go into the walk-in closet, pulling out a white T-shirt from the shelf, tugging it on, and duck from the room. I take my cigarettes out of my bag, sneak into the living room, and press the button for the electric blinds, which open slowly. Out in the darkness I sit on the small sofa close to the wall. At least he has an ashtray on the table. My lighter illuminates the dark space as I light up a cigarette and lean back, pulling my legs up to my chest. I’m cold but I don’t care. I’m at Ben’s house, on his patio, smoking a cigarette, and Ben is sleeping peacefully in his bed. And there’s no other place in the world I’d rather be. I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander…
