by Selena Kitt
With a sigh, I realise I probably wouldn’t have believed me either.
“You don’t remember.” Her voice sounds low, not quite a whisper but still very far from her normal self. I’m not sure what’s worse, facing the reality that I’ve lost her, or seeing her this upset.
I shake my head in response.
“I am so sorry I’ve let you down.” My own voice cracks noticeably. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything, I didn’t have a clue about any of it until I read the damn letter myself.”
When I look at her again I see tears flooding her face. I wish I knew how to fix this, she doesn’t deserve to be so sad, not for something I’m responsible for. Before I know it, I can feel the stinging start in my own eyes.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” She stares at me with those mysterious eyes of hers. The sadness I see in them just tugs at my insides until I can barely stand it.
“Believe in whatever feels right. I don’t know.”
Just when I’m losing any remnant of hope, she takes a step back inside and nods at me to come in. The whole thing reminds me of another set of fairly unreliable and blurry memories I have, when I came here after finding her note. Strange to be in the same place as our beginning, while facing our end.
“Tell me exactly what happened that night. Just what you do remember,” she says.
So I start. Leaving the trade show venue around 6, the bar, the night club. I distinctly remember the others were flirting with girls there, dancing and making fools of themselves. I remember feeling tipsy when I decided to switch to coke. And then everything turns black and I’m lost for words. The next thing I know, I get a wakeup call from reception and find myself back in my room with a hangover.
With arms folded in front of her and a thoughtful look on her face, she restlessly shifts her weight back and forth from one leg to the other. Then she takes a few steps around the sofa and sits down with her back towards me. I’m not sure whether to follow her example or not, so I do nothing at all.
“I have spent the best part of today trying to convince myself that I’d been played. That if you could lie about something so significant, I could not be sure of how much else was fake as well,” she says.
“I would never lie to you. None of it makes sense to me. I don’t even look at other women, never mind paying one to…” The thought alone makes me feel a bit sick.
She turns around and studies my expression. Then her face relaxes and she motions at me to sit with her. My heart skips a whole bunch of beats even if I try to tell myself not to get my hopes up. Either way I’m glad to join her.
But when I do sit down, she starts to cry again and helpless doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. She pulls her legs up in front of her and wraps her arms around them, hiding her face while her shoulders continue to shudder.
“Cath,” I say, “please…”
“I believe you,” she says and her sobs intensify.
“Then why are you crying?” Perhaps I should do something to console her, but it seems quite alien and uncomfortable. Eventually I do put my hand on her shoulder and I take it as a positive sign that she does not shake me off.
“Because I don’t know how to take this back!”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
She leans against my hand and I’m encouraged to start caressing her shoulder. It feels nice to touch her again. Like I’m starting to bridge the huge gap between us.
“After finding something like that, rather than ask you about it and give you the chance to tell me what happened, I just left.” She looks up, her eyes full of remorse.
I swallow, hard and move closer to her, putting my other arm around her. More so than the every other time I’ve held her, it amazes me how small and fragile she seems. As if I risk breaking her if I made one mistake, one wrong move.
“Knowing me, things might’ve gone a lot worse had the tables been turned,” I say.
“But don’t you see… I went back on every promise, every commitment I’d made. I’m no better than your ex-”
“OK stop. That’s nonsense. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I need you. All this stuff is secondary,” I say.
“I’m so very sorry…” She rests her forehead into the crook of my neck and I try to hold her more tightly but due to the awkward angle, I decide to just lift her into my lap instead. Safely tucked into my arms, she noticeably calms down.
“Me too. I don’t think I could live without you,” I say.
The last of her tears transfer onto my skin, making me slightly itchy but I dare not move for fear of disturbing her. I don’t want this moment to end, in case it’s the last one like it.
Both her legs have slipped onto the sofa to one side, meaning she actually completely fits into my embrace. I’m so relieved to have her back, don’t know what I would’ve done had she not opened the door when she did. Probably I would’ve sat there in the hallway all day and perhaps all night, just waiting and thinking about how it all went wrong.
And to think I very nearly didn’t come over at all… Best not to consider what might’ve happened then.
“I love you,” I whisper.
She starts to plant soft, ticklish kisses below my ear. Although I still feel raw and wrung out, these small affections from her cause an intense reaction in me. My heartbeat is all over the place and my chest feels like it might burst open. I worry whether expressing the state of mind she’s put me in would be inappropriate right now.
When she presses up against me and raises her head to nibble on my lips, I realise that this is our real reconciliation; everything previous was just words. I pour everything I have into our kiss and embarrassingly tear up yet again.
Her eyes widen when she sees, but she doesn’t stop. Instead she holds my face in her hands, wiping the wetness off me with her thumbs and lets her tongue respond to mine. She takes my breath away, replacing some of my earlier pain with a pressing need for her. One which of course she notices straightaway, as she’s sitting right on top of its most obvious indicator.
I let my feelings and her responses guide me, trying not to over-analyse for a change. It feels right when I caress her hair, her back, down her sides and over her hips and back up again. It also feels right when she grinds down into my crotch and sends jolts of bitter sweet pleasure through me.
But before I get too distracted, I just want to show her how special she is to me. So I gather her up in my arms again, struggling but managing to get up somehow while still mid kiss and head to the bedroom. There is something very important I’ve so far failed to do. Something to show her that she’s the most important person on earth. A goddess who deserves to be worshipped; I want to be worthy of her forgiveness.
Upon laying her down, I start to remove her Pj’s and she leans back on her elbows, watching me. I kneel in between her legs, realise that’s not going to work so I lie down instead, also propped up by my elbows. Now I’m able to reach and kiss her inner thighs.
“May I?” I ask.
She nods and continues to watch me go further up the silky skin of her thighs, alternating between sides. Her body reacts instantly, muscles fluttering, back arching just a bit with each kiss. The scent of her arousal is intoxicating. So sweet and kind of floral as well. I run my finger over her, down her lips and in between to find a pool of moisture waiting for me.
Encouraged by her soft moans, I lean in and kiss her. Then I spread her open with my hand and kiss again, this time finding her clit to softly lick. She tastes wonderful, a hint of salt contrasting with the sweetness of her scent. I had been nervous about this before, another first to be tried with her but it turns out I had nothing to worry about.
X.
How could I be so idiotic, so paranoid that I completely lost any semblance of sanity and nearly ruined everything we had together? Of course he didn’t lie. There was another explanation for it all. I couldn’t find any hint of dishonesty in his eyes, only love and fear.
&nbs
p; I believe everything he told me. If that’s wrong and naive, then so be it. This connection which we share is worth taking a risk on. I want us to be real.
My mind goes blank, all negative thoughts banished by the onslaught of pleasure he’s unleashing between my thighs. I can’t control my moans, I don’t want to either. He deserves to hear exactly what effect he’s having on me.
“Tell me how you like it”, he says, pausing only for a moment before continuing to lick at my clit.
It makes me squirm, so intense is the sensation. But I want more also.
“It’s perfect, keep going,” I gasp.
He licks all around my outer, inner labia and further inwards. I am feverish and my muscles twitch almost uncontrollably. It takes a whole lot of effort for me not to crush his head between my thighs.
A few more spasms later, he gets the hint and holds me firmly spread with both hands while fucking me with his tongue. It’s beautiful, not just the pleasure he’s giving me but also the visual aspect. His eyes looking up at me every so often in between bouts of intense focus on what he’s doing.
He takes my clit between his lips again, gently sucking on it and slips a finger inside me. I buck my hips, nearly losing all control.
“Stop,” I cry out, “stop, stop, stop!”
He lifts his head, startled and concerned. I smile at him and reach for his hand, pulling him further up the bed. At the same time I crawl around until my head is nearer the foot end of the bed and unbutton his jeans, tugging impatiently.
As soon as he’s got them off, I lie down, on my side, waiting for him to put his head on my thigh while I lean on my arm and lick a droplet of pre-cum from his cock.
He groans into my crotch and tries to continue licking, sucking and fingering me from this new direction. I take his whole length into my mouth as far as it’ll go and wrap my free arm around his thigh to steady myself. It’s like a competition, to see who distracts the other more. We’re fairly equally matched.
Every time he flicks his tongue across my most sensitive parts, I moan uncontrollably with my mouth still full. Then I suck him harder, out and in until it won’t go any further and he groans in response.
His finger moves inside me, finding my G-spot very easily and causing a build-up of heat as well as tension. I am out of breath and weak, forced to merely hold on to him while he continues to probe me. Moving my hips to help him on his way, I cringe my hand around his cock, seeing a shudder go through his hips and thighs in front of me.
Continuing to lick and suck on the outside, with first one and then two fingers in me, he pushes me along to the inevitable. I cry out, my hips twitching and squirming despite his firm grip on me as he tops it all off with more flicks from his tongue. He’s a natural; able to read the slightest moan or shudder to decipher exactly what pleases me.
My thigh goes limp, threatening to crush hit him in the face, which his hand only just prevents. He has removed his fingers from me and moved on to licking me clean with gentle yet long slurps. It takes minutes before I’ve caught my breath, but then I continue to focus on him.
One hand gripping him tightly from the base, allows me to more easily bob my head back and forth on him. His cock feels like it’s pulsating, so tense, so ready. Feeling his balls with my other hand, I notice he’s tensing up elsewhere too; back, thighs, ass. I force my hand between his thighs, caressing and then putting pressure on the skin behind his balls and enjoying the interruption in his urgent breaths caused by my explorations.
He seems to like being touched there, reacting more intensely than when I was only sucking him off. So I continue to feel him, massaging as well as mouth-fucking him and it isn’t long until his balls contract in front of me, his thighs go hard as planks and he shudders against me.
His loud animalistic groans encourage me to continue massaging as best I can despite my trapped hand, round and round, through the sensitive skin of his perineum. All the while I drain and swallow every last drop of cum, slowly. I’m so sorry, for everything. I’ll not make the same mistake again…
He reaches down, his hand trying but failing to get a grip around my shoulder. His hand finds my wrist, gently tugging until I turn right-side-up. Glad to be surrounded in a most perfect embrace again, I can feel a calm envelop us which makes everything almost seem OK again. The slow and relaxed kisses he plants on my cheek tell me he feels it too.
“Can I stay?” he asks.
There is no need to respond verbally, instead I hug him tightly and half-rid him of his T-shirt. He seems sufficiently reassured after I kiss his chest a couple of times because he sighs and rests his arm protectively around me.
“Let’s promise each other that no matter what happens, what suspicions we may have or rumours we may have heard, we’ll always hear each other out?” I say.
He caresses my back, slipping his hands in under my top and kisses my hair.
“Sounds like a plan,” he says, “I just need to know one thing… Aren’t you upset at all about what I did in Germany? Because I am.”
I shrug and think for a bit. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about it. I was too busy focussing on whether or not there was a cover-up.”
For a few minutes neither of us says a word.
“I’m so sorry I doubted you,” I whisper.
He runs his fingers through my hair, sending goose bumps down my spine.
“And I’m sorry I let things get out of hand,” he says, “It’ll never happen again.”
Our moment of quiet reflection is loudly interrupted by my stomach which has decided that enough is enough. As soon as it stops growling, he pokes me softly in the side.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten all day?”
I shrug.
“Wasn’t hungry.”
“Then allow me to change that…” He gets up and starts to put on his clothes again while I watch from the comfort of the warm bed.
When he’s done, I decide to follow him into the kitchen, partially because I’m curious to see what he’s planning, but mainly because I can’t bear the thought of being further apart than necessary while our wounds are still raw. I find him rummaging through the fridge, looking for god knows what before settling on what looks like all the vital components of ham and cheese sandwiches.
“Have you got a sandwich press?” he asks.
I nod and find it for him, then stand back and watch as he assembles the ingredients. I get it now, why he stared at me when I cooked for him. It’s a lovely thing, watching that special someone busy at work; I could do this for hours.
My stomach claws at my insides violently again when the aroma of nearly ready toasties fills the room. I get the plates and as soon as they’re ready we sit down to eat around the breakfast bar. The envelope that came in the mail yesterday is still lying there so I mindlessly open it while taking a few bites.
“Goddamnit, I can’t fucking believe this!” I drop the half eaten toasty back into the plate and hold on to the letter with both hands, reading it again.
“What happened?”
“I’m being evicted! My landlord has given me a month’s notice due to refurbishment planned for the new year. I can bet he’s just trying to get rid of me to up the rent.” My appetite is ruined and all the tension from earlier in the day flares up again.
It’s always something. One thing gets better, another fucks up. I feel like Lady Luck is torturing me on purpose, sending me on an emotional roller coaster and making bits of track disappear underneath me without warning. I drop the letter onto the bar surface and John picks it up to read it for himself.
With my head in both hands, I try to think. What do I do, how will I find a new place at such short notice.
“You’ve got a month, surely you’ll find something else?” He asks, his hand reaching across and caressing my shoulder.
“Not unless he gives me the deposit back early, I literally can’t afford it!” My throat feels tight and I’m developing a splitting headache.
�
��And plus, it’s almost Christmas. Who the hell is going to do viewings on flats over the holiday period? The timing couldn’t have been worse…” I add.
He puts the letter down and gets up, within a couple of steps he’s next to me and puts his arms around me once more. I’m too emotionally drained after everything for further tears, so I just sit there, trying to focus and formulate a plan. I’ve got nothing.
“You know, today has made me think really hard about everything,” he says, “I couldn’t face the thought of having to live without you. I realised that…”
I’m only half listening to him, mostly preoccupied with trying to force my mind into trouble-shooting mode. There must be something that can be done…
He clears his throat, causing me to snap out of my moment of self-pity and look up.
“It’s not sensible, or rational and of course much too soon… But I need you in my life, Cath. I can’t think of anything better than to spend my evenings with you, my nights holding you in my arms. So…” he rambles on.
I blink a few times, trying to let his words filter through the clutter in my brain. What is he trying to say?
“You could stay with me, if you like. Just for a while, until you find a new place if you need your space. Or… you know – just stay.” He looks concerned, no, that’s an understatement. He looks terrified.
And I don’t know how to respond. Does he really mean it? Then again, if not, why would he suggest it. Is he feeling so guilty about Germany perhaps that he thinks this is what’s required to sort things out?
“Are you sure?” I ask. I’m worried as well, hoping that his offer is genuine, because I’d like nothing more than to stay together.
He forces an awkward smile.
“I won’t lie, I’m about ready to shit myself right now.”
“Why? Do you think I’d say no?” I ask.
He averts his gaze from me, hesitating for a moment.
“That and… It’s just that I’ve been here before, in a similar situation. And although I’d like to make it perfectly clear that you’re nothing like her, it’s still a bit weird, scary.”
