by Liana Key
Actually it was my legs that were sore. Funny, when you do a sport that's not your regular one, when you use a different set of muscles, you really do feel it. You'd think with all my tennis training, sprint work, running, squats they'd be immune, but they weren't. Guess I must have stood up more times than I had remembered yesterday.
Before we went to school, Magdala hugged me and said, "Thanks Cash. That was the best morning." She looked happy, like really happy.
It should have been reward enough, my good deed for the day done, and I didn't regret doing it, I had enjoyed being out there too. But this lingering thought of Paola wouldn't go away, and the ten hours until I saw her again seemed like an eternity away.
"Any time," I replied, "remember that."
PAOLA
My days off usually flew by, like I'd generally be saying, Where has the time gone? I've not achieved half the things on my To Do list. But today time dragged. Pilates, still only nine o'clock. Grocery shopping, lunch time. Manicure, pedicure, two o'clock. Vacuum, dust, clean the oven, mop the floors, cook dinner. Still he was hours away.
I showered, washed and blow waved my hair straight, just because I had so much time on my hands. I sat on the sofa waiting, turning pages of a magazine as if in a daze.
I heard his footsteps running up the stairs. I dropped the magazine and leapt up, opening the door just as he reached it. I literally fell into his arms. His arms smothered me, I relaxed into him. We just held each other. You would have thought it was a long lost reunion, the way we clung to one another.
"I missed you so much," I said. He scooped me up, his strong arms holding me around my back and under my knees and strode off to the bedroom. He placed me down gently, pulled off his tennis shirt, kicked off his shoes.
"I like your hair," he said. I moved myself towards the pillows, unbuttoning my blouse as I did so. He crawled onto the bed, covering me, his lips on mine. He broke away, undoing the last button and I wriggled my way out of the sleeves. He unhooked my bra, needing several attempts to do so, and I raised my arms so he could pull it off. His lips resumed at my breasts, my hands running through his hair, around the nape of his neck, across his back. He rolled to the side, tugging at his shorts. I unzipped my skirt, he pulled it away with my underwear. He briefly smiled as he fingered the black lacy g-string, not my norm. Could have been conveniently retrieved from the back of my drawer.
He came over me again, on all fours, his lips on my lips, his eyes looking into mine.
"It was a long day and night without you," he said. I felt touched, emotional.
"I know," I whispered back. He guided himself into me, his body sliding against mine, my legs tangling around his, trying to absorb him, wanting him to be part of me. He thrust into me, his eyes closing as he did so, again, again, trying to master his control. A slight grin on his face, as if he knew he couldn't keep it going, as if he was resigned to an early release. One last time and his face told the story, "Sorry," he said, his face nuzzling into my hair, "total lack of control." He truly sounded disappointed with himself.
"Don't be sorry," I said and joked, "I know I'm irresistible."
He laughed, "You are!" He rolled to the side. "Shit," he said, sighing, "sorry."
"I'll give you a second chance later," I said lightly, leaning over, touching his cheek.
He smiled. "You're too good to me." Right then, his stomach rumbled and we both laughed.
"You need food," I said.
"No, I'm fine, I'll grab something later."
But I suddenly felt the need to mother him, to care for him. "I cooked earlier," I said, pulling him up, "let's eat." We quickly dressed, and went into the kitchen. I'd made a chicken and mushroom risotto, figuring it would be easily heated. I wasn't bad in the kitchen. Though I'd never wanted to be a chef, like Daddy, I had obviously grown up around him and Mama cooking, so some of it had rubbed off on me. I made him sit down, while I prepared the bowls.
"Tell me about the beach," I said.
He seemed surprised, and shrugged, told me he'd gone with his sister and cousin, surfing. "And we went out this morning too," he added. I remembered surfing was one of his extra curricular activities.
"So you're a good surfer?" I nudged for information.
"Not really." Typically modest, I assumed. "My sister is though."
He seemed to do an awful lot of things with his sister. Was I jealous of her? "How old is she?" I tried to keep my voice casual.
"Sixteen." Well, his mother had died at birth, this sister was obviously only his half sister. Hell, his father hadn't mucked around. Where was her mother, I wondered. I brought the bowls to the table, setting one in front of him, stroking his hair as I did. I watched him eat, smiling.
"So what time were you out this morning?" I prodded, not wanting to sound too nosy, but hell I wanted to know everything about him.
"Seven, it was just a spur of the moment thing. My legs are pretty sore now," he said and grinned. "I'll blame that on my poor performance!"
I laughed, surprised that he was honest enough to joke about it. "No complaints from me sweetie," I said and he looked at me, shyly looked down and said, "Thanks." Which also surprised me.
"You and your sister are close?" I interrogated.
"Yes." He didn't expand.
"She's your half sister?"
"Yes." Then added, "Her mother lives in Honolulu."
I raised my eyebrows. Maybe that was why he seemed so close to her, with her mother being half an ocean away. Ludicrously, I didn't feel quite so jealous of her now, the poor girl possibly hadn't grown up with her mother. I had a soft spot for her as well. "How's that risotto?"
"Best I've had," he said, he'd actually almost finished the bowl, while I'd barely touched mine.
"Do you want more?" I asked, "there's plenty."
"No thanks. That was great." He used the napkin to wipe his mouth, had a drink of water and set his elbows on the table, smiling at me. A strange feeling came over me, one of protectiveness, of comfort, a satisfaction that I was feeding and nourishing this boy. It seemed to be in stark contrast to the lust and passion that drove me to him half an hour ago. I rested my fork on my plate and pushed it to one side, my appetite gone.
"Do I get my second chance now?" he asked, pushing his chair back.
"Maybe I need to do a little tutoring?" My husky voice returned, and I stood and lead him back into the bedroom. And I sat on the end of the bed, my legs spread wide and gave him a chance of redemption, firstly with his tongue and then his cock. Needless to say I awarded him an A plus.
CASSIAN
Dad told us about the house on Tuesday, and we did a drive by that night, when I'd finished at the gym. I didn't mind the street, it was a less than ten minute drive from the beach, in fact you could walk if you really wanted to. It was only a ten minute drive to the local high school, but it would be a twenty five minute drive back to Beverly, longer in peak traffic. Dad said he'd look at transferring me. He said it would be good if Magdala and I could go to school together. I kind of agreed.
On Sunday Dad and Antonia had planned a trip for the little kids to a fun park down in San Diego. They were leaving early, making a full day of it. Magdala had already planned to go to a piano recital that afternoon. Her old piano teacher had got her a ticket. Dad had arranged for Kate to take her and I would pick her up because I would have finished work by then. The concert finished at four thirty; I'd need thirty minutes to drive there, so I knew my time with Paola was going to be short and sweet. I met her at her apartment when I finished work.
I'm not sure why my brain switched off. Something to do with a hot naked woman running her hands, her tongue across my body? Maybe. Next thing I knew my phone was vibrating on the bed stand, and of course my memory returned. I pulled myself off Paola and picked up the phone in a panic, saw Magdala was calling and said, "Fuck." A word I don't usually say out loud. I think it often, but I try not to actually say it. Jakey says it enough times for the both of us.
&
nbsp; "Magdala? I'm on my way." I said, though of course I wasn't. I'd leapt off the bed, retrieving my clothes.
"Will you be long?" Magdala asked
"Yeah, it's taking awhile. Have you got somewhere to wait?"
She said she did, so I rang off, zipped up my pants, picked up my shoes.
"What on earth?" Paola looked pissed.
I bent down and kissed her cheek. "I forgot my sister," I gabbled, checking my keys were in my pocket.
"Don't I ever come first?" she asked, and I thought it an odd thing to say, but didn't have time to query it. I took off in a run.
Magdala was fine. She said her teacher had waited with her for awhile, then she had talked to another teacher from school, and she was really pumped about playing and practicing again. She asked me why I was late and I said the restaurant had been extra busy and we took longer to clean up. She asked me if I liked cleaning up. I said it didn't worry me, I quite liked things to be tidy and in order. Except, it seemed, my relationship with Paola.
Dad and Antonia weren't going to be back till late, so we rang Jakey and ended up going round there and eating dinner with them, having a swim. I waited for Paola to ring me, but she didn't. Nor did she text me. Then once Dad came home and talked about their day, I figured it was too late.
The next day, Monday was our usual post-training encounter. I had no reason to believe I shouldn't go. I hadn't heard from her all day, but that wasn't unusual, she knew I was in school, then straight to tennis. I rocked up just after six, knocked on the door. She didn't open it straight away, normally she'd be right there waiting, or sometimes the door would be open. It was about twenty seconds, and there was a split moment when I thought she might not be at home. I felt relief when she did open it and I stepped inside, but she was already walking away, towards the dining table, where I could see she was in the middle of a meal. I didn't quite know what to make of it, she'd never eaten this early before. Plus, she hadn't spoken a word.
"Um," I hesitated, able to see she was clearly pissed, "aren't you expecting me?"
"I don't know," she said, her tone icy, "you tell me." She put a fork up to her mouth and had a bite of whatever she was eating, deliberating looking uninterested in me. It didn't need a genius to work out it was about yesterday. The way I'd tossed her aside mid thrust. Obviously doesn't go down well with women.
"I'm sorry about that," I said, feeling uncomfortable now. I didn't like her attitude towards me, it upset me. Perhaps I should have rung or texted last night to apologize, but I hadn't, and now I was feeling her wrath. She continued to eat. It looked like a piece of crumbed chicken and salad. "Do you want me to go?" I asked, not liking this rejection at all.
"Well, why don't you check your phone, or your diary first," she said huffily, "and just see if you have anything planned with your sister first?"
I was genuinely taken aback. This wasn't just about running out on her, this was about Magdala? I just stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, debating on whether I should just turn and leave, or beg forgiveness. She looked up at me, glaring, willing me to respond. I wanted her to say something, tell me what to do.
"Well?" she finally prompted, her eyes drilling me.
I felt I owed her an explanation. "My sister was raped," I said. And I saw her eyes react first, widen and her mouth opened, her jaw dropped. "Two months ago," I carried on, "she was raped and stabbed." They were words I don't think I'd ever said out loud. Words I never wanted to say again.
She stood up, hesitated, as if she was only now fully acknowledging what I'd just said. She came towards me. "Oh Cassian," she said, her voice low. "Oh." She seemed lost for words. She came to me, putting her arms around me, resting her head on my chest. "I'm sorry, so sorry." My hands came around her back, pulling her closer. "Your poor sister," she murmured, "I wish you'd said something sooner."
I wanted to keep holding her, it was making me feel better already, her earlier rejection forgotten about. But she pulled away, dragged me to the table and sat me down. She brought me out a plate of dinner, even though I tried to tell her it wasn't necessary. She insisted I eat. She resumed her meal, asking me gently to tell her about it.
"She was meeting her boyfriend, but she got raped in a carpark," I said, realizing I'd never actually told anyone the details before. Rape, unlike other crimes is something that remains silent, hushed up, never talked about. People will talk about a murder, an assault, being robbed and mugged. But rape? No one divulges that information. And I realized that a lot of Jakey and my friends at school, my tennis friends, they didn't know. And I was hardly going to tell them. I even wondered if Nathan knew the details, had Magdala ever told him, or Dad, because I certainly hadn't.
Paola shook her head, she did seem devastated. She came to me and sat on my lap, putting her arms around my neck. "Can you forgive me for being such a bitch?" she said. "I feel shame for the way I spoke to you."
"You don't need to apologize," I said, "how could you have known?"
"I acted so selfishly, wanting you all to myself," she said, "while your poor sister is going through hell."
"I've been doing the same thing," I found the courage to say. "I wanted this job, so I didn't have to deal with Magdala's pain. Like if I could be busy with something else, it meant I didn't have to think about what she was going through. And now, I find I want to be with you all the time...I'm the selfish one."
She used her hand to angle my face towards her. "From what I've seen you are the most caring, loving brother there is. And don't you forget it."
"I love her so much," I said, "but I don't know how to help her."
Paola's touch was gentle. "I'm sure she knows you love her, and it sounds like you are there for her. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."
"I let her down," I said, revealing my innermost pain, "I didn't protect her."
She stroked my cheek, kissed my lips softly. "How can I not love you?" she whispered, "you have the kindest, most giving, most loving soul." Her eyes were moist. She closed them and kissed me again. I realized she'd just said she loved me. We sat on the sofa, she fed me tiramisu, we kissed, touched and talked and it was the first time we didn't make love, but somehow the evening seemed more intimate than any other.
PAOLA
I wanted the earth to swallow me up. That's how bad I felt, I deserved to just disappear. All day, in fact all night and all day I'd been stewing, getting myself more and more worked up, refusing to yield with either a phone call or text, ready to express my abhorrence of how he was treating me, how he was able to so easily dismiss me, as if I were nothing but disposable. And literally in the middle of hot, wild sex. It had crushed me. I had all my weapons drawn and ready to fire.
And then he offered the seemingly only excuse that could ever be acceptable - his sister had been raped. At first I heard, My sister was draped, and an image of a girl wearing a Versace designer gown entered my head, but within milliseconds my cognitive functions kicked in, and I realized the truth of his words, and the impact was shattering. And that's when I'd wanted to be swallowed up.
How could I have been so shallow, so petty, so Mean Girl. Me, the one who should be wiser, more mature, but instead had been playing games like a middle schooler. The shame was immediate. And I could see his pain. And his pain was real. I didn't deserve the way he overlooked my immature attitude and then proceeded to berate his own behavior, loathing his inadequacies, blaming himself for something he could have had no control over. I knew I had been right about his character. He truly was special, and I knew then whatever it was, this thing between us, which may have started as something physical, had gone beyond. My heart belonged to him. But he never acknowledged my words of How can I not love you? Never indicated he grasped the meaning.
The need to comfort and console overrode any desire for sex, rather feeding him, touching, holding, talking felt more important. And as he opened up, revealed more about himself, I felt our connection, our bond grow deeper, and I knew it was impro
bable, impossible even, but I wanted him, more than anything, to be loving me back.
He looked at the time, and released me. "I've got to go," he said. I nodded, escorted him the few steps to the door. How I longed for him to stay the night, to not have to abandon me. Would I ever have that day?
He bent down and kissed me. "Thank you for understanding," he said. The irony of it all, him thanking me, when it should have been me thanking him.
"You should bring your sister in for a meal," I said, suddenly wanting to do something to help her.
He shook his head and laughed. "Oh no. Then she would find out about you and me."
"How?" I asked, "I would keep my distance."
He laughed again, "She would smell the chemistry between us." He paused. "My cousin knows. I had to tell him."
"You told your cousin?" I gulped. One person knows, then who's next? A fear crept through my veins.
"He knew something was going on," he said, "apparently I'm transparent." He smiled sheepishly.
My nerves felt jittery. "He won't say anything?"
"He's like my brother," he said, shaking his head. "I trust him with my life." I was impressed that he had such strong relationships in his life. He paused and laughed, "Hey, I couldn't just take your picture, could I?"
I smiled, "Why?"
"It might make my nights easier," he laughed, and I felt a puffed chest syndrome, but then he admitted, "Jakey wants evidence." And he rolled his eyes apologetically.
I couldn't help but laugh, he was so likable, lovable. "How should I pose?" I preened, but he snapped me then and there, and then stood next to me taking selfies of us.
"Don't you post those all over the net," I growled.
He laughed and kissed me again and was gone.
A little while later he sent me through a selfie of the two of us. It made my knees weak. Our first photo together, it seemed significant. His caption? She loves me. I smiled, I laughed, on my own, crazily laughing. If anyone had seen me they would have thought I'd gone insane. My joy was so great that I had to ring him.
