by L. B. Dunbar
More time…
[Perkins]
Hollister had already stayed straight through those two days. I knew she needed to get back to work, but I was too worried to let her leave without me. I was slow to move when she said she would call a cab. I refused. When I stood and almost stumbled over, she decided to stay one more day. I sat on the edge of the bed, while she called Marie and then returned to me.
“You do need a shave,” she said, rubbing a hand quickly over my face. Her steel eyes turned to silver as I leaned forward and kissed her stomach. “But, you know what they say about a man with a beard?”
I paused for a moment, still taking in the scent of her. I lifted her sweater to be closer to her skin and realized she smelled like me. She must have showered here, of course. I kissed her bare skin and she sucked in a breath.
“Mmmmm….What do they say about a man with a beard?” I kissed her again and let the rough hair tickle her stomach.
She giggled. “You know?”
I pulled back. “Actually, I don’t know.” I was serious. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Well…” She paused. “Never mind.” She moved to step back, but I caught her hips and tugged her toward me. It hurt to sit upright and I could feel the tension in my abdominal muscles.
“Well, they say…you know…that it feels…oh God…I can’t,” she stopped.
She wasn’t making any sense to me. She struggled in my grasp for a moment, and I tugged her hard, feeling her hipbones through her jeans.
“No really, what do they say?” I was getting a bit concerned. Was there something wrong with the beard?
“They say…it feels good when…” She stopped again. I decided if she wouldn’t tell me outright I would torture her with the beard until she did. I ran my chin across her bare stomach and she bent forward in laughter.
“What do they say?” I asked. She wiggled and squirmed in my hold.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” she teased.
“That’s not what they say, whoever they are.” I continued my torment over her soft skin. She continued to chuckle and gripped my face to stop. I didn’t release the connection between my face and her belly.
“They say it feels good when a man…” I looked up at her, and she dropped a hand to wave in front of herself.
“When a man tickles you?” I was ready to dive in again when I noticed she was signaling lower on her body.
I looked up again. “When a man what?” I squeezed her hips to make her speak.
“When a man goes…there…between….it’s supposed to feel…” She stopped.
I continued to stare at her and she looked away. Staring out into my kitchen, as if the greatest discovery in the world was in that direction, she ignored my glare.
“Are you saying that if I feasted on you, my beard might intensify things?”
“Well, that’s what they say,” she emphasized very softly.
“I don’t care about them. I care about you. Is that what you think?’
“I…I don’t actually know,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve never…before you.” For the briefest of moments, I felt relief that this was something she hadn’t experienced with another man. Then another thought took over.
“You want to know, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that,” she squirmed again.
“But you want to know, don’t you?”
“I…” She began, but I cut her off.
“Say it. Say Perkins, I want to feel your beard between my legs.”
“I do not,” she lied, and I could tell by the tone. “Plus you’d hurt yourself if we did anything, now,” she sighed and I unzipped her jeans. Her hands came to rest over mine.
“Say it,” I groaned, as I began to slowly tug at the edges of her pants, torturously revealing those curvy hips.
“Perkins,” her voice warned, but unconvincingly. “We can’t do this.”
“Not until you say it.” I had her jeans and panties down to her thighs then I leaned forward to blow in the general area at the apex of her legs.
“Say it,” I teased.
“Will you stop?” she laughed, her hands reaching for the edge of her jeans to pull them back up.
“Not until you say it,” I said, holding her jeans down with my thick hands wrapped around her thighs.
“Fine. Perkins, I want to feel your beard between my thighs.”
I was instantly hard. I looked at her eyes, which were bright silver. Deep down, she meant those words. I lay back on the bed, my feet still touching the floor. I wouldn’t be able to get over her. She’d have to get on me.
“I’m not getting on you,” she said quietly. I was visibly hard.
“Climb up me,” I said softly. “Come to my face.”
I saw her swallow and she met my stare. I was serious. I wanted to taste her, but moreover, I wanted to please her.
I attempted to sit up, struggling. “Or I could get on my knees like at your uncle’s.”
“No,” she said, gently pushing me back down. I watched the slow strip tease as she removed her tight jeans, then stared as she pulled off the larger sweater that disguised the shapeliness of her body. A tank top hugged her skin, but I could see the hardness of her nipples through the cotton material and a thin, light blue bra.
“Take that off, too,” I demanded. She did as I asked, then slowly crawled over me like a lioness ready to attack its prey. I was definitely ensnared by her, but while the temptress hunted, I was ready to devour her instead.
“This seems so…”she whispered, but I tugged the back of her bent knees to bring her closer to where I needed her to be. I blew onto her warm center and her words stopped. She slid over me and let out a sharp breath as the beard hit her thighs and my tongue hit her lower lips.
More time continued…
[Hollister]
I screamed in pleasure as he sucked me into him then lapped at me like a man still hungry for dessert. The awkwardness wore off as immediately as the naughtiness of it took over. I rocked on him; worried I’d hurt him, and yet totally lost in the connection of his mouth on me. I needed this, I decided. I’d felt disconnected watching him suffer, knowing it was from me. My fault.
I’d never felt more connected to a man than after our romp on his kitchen island, only a few days ago. With his sudden incapacity to even function, I felt the loss of him. Everywhere. My heart ached for Perkins Vale in a way I was trying to deny. While I lay next to him each night, he tossed in his drugged fog, and I traced the tattoo on his arm. It was thick and dark. The links of the chain were intricate and detailed with smaller designs. I let my fingers run over the outline of the large shield covering his heart. It was also detailed with a bright red cross and a dull white background. Outlined in black, I wondered if he placed it there to protect his heart. I’d worn a figurative shield over mine for so long, I almost didn’t remember I had one. But when Perkins Vale told me he loved me, I cracked. When he told me he defended me because he loved me, I crumbled more. When he told me in his feverish haze, before I got Marie, that I was the love of his life, the chunks of protection fell away. I wanted so desperately to believe him.
Words I’d never said before I tried on him.
“I love you, Perkins Vale,” I whispered, as I traced over the cross that covered his heart. He didn’t stir and I continued to let my fingers wander. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I said in my head. I was blessing him and sharing my words with him, like a promise. A prayer.
“I love you, Perkins Vale,” I said louder, knowing he wouldn’t hear me.
His head turned toward my voice, but he was incoherent. I continued my exploration of his colored skin, drawing lazily over and over. I could hear his heart thump under my head on his shoulder. It beat low and rhythmic like he said a drum played.
I love. You. I love. You. I love. You. It beat.
“I love you,” I said at full voice, convinced Perkins would not hear me.
When he was finished tasting me, I returned the favor in kind. I allowed him to remain flat on his back as I savored him hard and brought him relief I knew he needed, too. He was a thick man and his body responded to me often. He tried to disguise it, at times, but it seemed almost constant. Since I knew he had been a virgin, so much made sense. His hesitation at first. His inexperience second. His continual arousal. He wanted to try it all, and he admitted he wanted it all with me. That was an amazing power, I had. I wouldn’t say I was a pro sexually, by any means. As a matter of fact, I preferred to forget all my previous sexual experience. Fortunately for me, Perkins was wiping those memories clean.
When he looked at me, I saw it in his eyes. He wanted me. Not for a higher purpose, but just me. When he kissed me, he took my breath as if he needed it to breathe. When he made love to me, it was like he was fulfilled in a way that only I could complete. I wanted that same connection with him. I believed I had it, but I wasn’t ready to admit it.
I helped him to the shower, although the best he could have was a low filled bathtub. He couldn’t get those stitches wet, yet. I also helped him shave, which was a tough job because he kept trying to kiss me. He’d also smile sheepishly at me, like he had a secret, which moved his face, and I worried I’d cut him. I remembered the first night I’d slept with him, and I was annoyed the next morning by this teenage behavior. I wanted to slap myself in hindsight. Who doesn’t want a man to look at her in the way he looked at me? He stared into my soul and knew things about me, even I didn’t know. He was perfectly happy to hold those secrets until I was ready to tell them to myself.
A gift stolen…
[Hollister]
We fell into a routine again of my working and Perkins taking me to and from the shelter. I didn’t spend the night unless I had an overnight shift. I worried that there would be retribution against Perkins for the fight with Jordan, but I also wondered why Michael McMann was at Perkins home, as well. Perkins was convinced it had been Arturo King saving us, but I wasn’t so certain. Either way, I was more than curious how any of them knew where Perkins lived, or that I was there on Thanksgiving night.
I couldn’t skip out on Christmas at the shelter. It was our most depressing day. While many people saw that time of year as a time to celebrate, many women came to terms with the tragedy of their lives, and depression hit hard. Some women in the shelter openly discussed their desperation, and I worked hard to reassure them that life could get better. I tried to remind myself as I felt this way for the first time in my life. I was happy.
Perkins Vale was becoming everything to me, but I had to figure out Jordan and Michael. At Perkins persistence, I filed a restraining order against Jordan; I was reminded I already had one against him. The fact that I saw him outside the shelter, on several occasions, then had the altercation with him at Perkins’ home put Jordan in violation of his parole. Realistically, he was already in violation as he had not reported to his parole officer, and his whereabouts were completely unknown. New York City was a large place, and it was possible to hide right under the nose of those looking for you. The truth of this was that’s why I was here: to hide, but I was no longer safe.
I didn’t want to be scared. I didn’t want to give up my job. I didn’t want to run. But I had to do something.
Perkins came to see me on Christmas Eve as we had a host of volunteers working another dinner, and then we had a private dinner celebration with Marie afterward. Martha had disappeared again. I had to tell Marie what I had witnessed before: Martha leaving the abandoned business apartment and entering the shelter after hours. We couldn’t help Martha if she wasn’t willing to help herself. A momentary guilt took over me as I liked the youthful Hispanic girl, but I had more women to worry about on that night than I knew what to do with. Sadly, my goal for the night was to keep them all alive, and to see tomorrow as a new day as the holidays were a brutal time for suicides.
I wanted to celebrate the night with Perkins, but I just couldn’t do that on Christmas night. We hadn’t exchanged presents, as he wanted to wait until we were alone, which wouldn’t be until after December 26th, Boxing Day. There was some tradition of a party at Tristan Lyons’ place, but I wasn’t attending this year. Perkins had told me he wanted me to go as his girlfriend, and after several rounds of lovemaking, convinced me that I had that label. Unfortunately, I still wasn’t going to the party. Around midnight, I wondered if I’d be welcome so late. It would be sweet to surprise him.
I smiled to myself as I travelled through the hall and down the stairs, as the home was quiet but restless. I was reminded of that poem “The Night Before Christmas” only I felt that despite not a creature was awake, there was definitely something stirring. I wandered through the reading room and the front visiting room, then back into the large dining area to enter the kitchen space. Yes, there the mouse stood, only he was larger than a rat. It’s said that a mouse can slip through a hole the width of a pencil. Jordan Waters appeared to do the same.
He stood proudly in the kitchen, unflustered by my surprise at this presence.
“I promised I’d return for you, my Chosen One,” he smiled sheepishly as he approached me. He was the lion and I was his catch. I stood frozen to the linoleum beneath my bare feet. This couldn’t happen again. Jordan was stealthy. He could slip into and out of anywhere undetected. That’s exactly how he got into Elaine’s and my room, without it appearing as a break-in, and how he stole me in the night, without making it seem like a kidnapping.
It wasn’t until Jordan’s icy fingers traced down my face that I was able to snap out of my stupor. The coldness of his touch reminded me instantly of the feel of his hands on my body. The uncomfortable pressure of him doing things to me that I didn’t want done. The unpleasantness of him touching me in places I didn’t want to be touched. The functionality of an act that served only one purpose for him; a purpose I did not fulfill. Jordan Waters believed my body was sacred. He believed I was from a lineage that he was predestined to continue forward, and that meant he needed to procreate with me. Essentially, he needed me to get pregnant and birth his child. I shivered at the thought.
“We haven’t fulfilled our destiny yet, my dear,” he said, as I flinched away from him. His dark eyes gleamed black as he stared at me.
“You know what I want from you,” he sighed, as he stepped toward me and I instinctively stepped back. I should have screamed. My head was telling me to scream, but the racing of my heart filled my ears. I couldn’t hear myself think. My arms were crossed protectively over my stomach, as I knew what Jordan wanted but would never have from me.
“I…I can’t give it to you,” I said, trying to control my voice. I needed to stay strong. I needed to be firm in my tone. He was not taking me again. He could not have me. I was not offering myself to him.
“You can, and you will,” he said, reaching for me. I stepped back but felt the breeze of air as his grasp missed my arm. I bumped into the counter with my back. I had framed myself in.
Jordan stepped closer and I leaned back. His breath was rank and his awkward smile made me tremble inside. I instantly thought of the sweetness of Perkins: his lips, his warm eyes, his tender touch.
“I won’t. I’ve already given it to someone else,” I said, again trying to sound confident.
“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t,” Jordan implored, a hint of panic in his voice, but he wasn’t thoroughly convinced.
“Is it the big guy?” Jordan asked. “I’ll forgive you your sins, Holli, as you will fulfill your purpose. With me,” he emphasized.
“I can’t,” I spoke again. “I’ve already given it to him.”
Jordan froze. His evil grin grew as his eyes narrowed. Doubt was written on his face, but his mouth twitched as if he held those thin lips falsely
in place.
“No,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
“Yes,” I breathed out. His eyes narrowed and then fell to my stomach, which I protected with my hands.
“You…you couldn’t,” he said, implying as he often had, that it was my fault destiny was not complete.
“I did. I am,” I stated. “I’m pregnant,” I said the words with confidence I didn’t believe in, and then the world went black.
A gift returned…
[Perkins]
She’d worked several full nights and most of the holiday days. I didn’t want her to work so hard, but I admired her conviction to save women and encourage them to take a new life for themselves. She seemed more comfortable coming and going from my home. I had to admit I loved the simple pleasure of her sleeping in my bed, showering in my shower, and eating meals with me. We passed the other time making love, as I had lots to learn, and she was a willing teacher. I was happy to find not all that we had done she had experienced before. Together we discovered a world of sensuality neither of us had known. She assured me that nothing she had done in her past compared to us now, and further explained it was never like what we shared. She still hadn’t told me she loved me, but I knew we were getting close to that point. I had a big surprise for her for Christmas, but I asked her to wait. I wanted it to be special, not rushed.
We last spoke shortly before eleven when she assured me one final time she just wanted to rest. She’d been tired often during the last two weeks, and I worried that she worked too much. We had to be creative as my stomach healed. I enjoyed the naps, as I needed the rest as well, but it seemed, as I grew stronger, she was growing weaker. She explained the holidays were difficult, and she always had a tough time holding everyone else together. She said how each year before this one, she’d typically bury herself away at this time as it reminded her of family she didn’t have. No father. No mother. No extended family she cared to reach out toward.
