by Ron Vitale
Charles blushed and took another sip of whiskey to hide his embarrassment.
“Well, you could put it that way, but I was trying to be more sensitive to a man of his upbringing.” Stephen leaned forward and nudged his friend. “Well, ever been with a girl?”
Charles put down his drink and stared right at me and said, “No, I haven’t.”
Stephen clapped and patted Charles on the back. “I give you credit for telling the truth and not lying. I’m impressed.”
“We’re playing a game and I didn’t want to cheat.” He still did not take his eyes off of me and asked, “Risk or honesty?”
I pretended that I didn’t hear him and asked, “Are you asking me?”
“Yes, I am. Risk or honesty.” He took a big swig of whiskey and waited for me to answer.
I dipped my pinky finger in my whiskey, swirled it around, and then pulled it out and sucked the whiskey off. “Risk, of course.” I flashed a brilliant smile at him and stared him down. There was no use holding my cards now. I wanted him, and the whiskey eased any inhibitions I once had.
“Good, a risk. Let me think.” He kept staring at me, and I leaned forward to show him a little bit of my cleavage. He was lost in thought for a few moments, and then pointed to Stephen. “I want you to kiss him like he’s your boyfriend who’s just come home from the war.”
I shot a quick concerned glance at Stephen, and he shrugged at me, willing to play along. “Come on over here, my lady of the rags, and let me kiss you good!”
I stood up off Charles’ bed and took a step and wobbled. The whiskey had hit me faster than I had expected. I caught myself from falling by grabbing the side of Charles’ bed, and both of them laughed at me. Stephen patted his lap, and I placed myself there and wrapped my arms around him and kissed him right on the mouth. I exaggerated the kiss, pushing Stephen back in his seat and pretended to kiss him deep and long, but all the while I kept my eyes open and stared at Charles. I let him watch me and let him drink in all of me. Stephen played along and he finally pushed me off. “You she-devil, I can’t breathe! Get off of me.” He pushed me off and I fell back onto Charles’ bed.
Charles caught me, and I rolled over onto my back and then kicked my legs up into the air, threw up my arms, wiggled my whole body, and then pretended to be dead. He glanced over to Stephen and asked, “Do you think she’s still alive?”
Stephen reached for his cane and, prodded me, but I stayed motionless. “I think my kiss has killed her. It was so horrible that she needs her prince to kiss her and wake her up.”
Charles bent over and tried to tickle me, but I resisted and refused to laugh. “You are right. Where do you think her prince is?”
Stephen took his cane and hit Charles lightly in the back of the head. “You’re her prince, you dimwit. Kiss her!”
I held my breath and kept my eyes closed, waiting for Charles’ kiss. There was a moment in which I could feel my heart beating fast, and I wasn’t certain if he would come to me or not. But then he bent over me and pulled me to him and kissed me lightly on the lips. I could taste the whiskey on his lips, and his kiss was soft and tentative. I fluttered my eyes and opened them and stared back into his blue eyes. His blond hair hung over his face and he looked at me like a boy who had just had his first kiss. I let my legs and arms fall to the bed, and then came to life and kissed him back.
Stephen stood up and balanced himself with his cane. I glanced at him and for a brief moment saw a pained expression cross his face. He limped toward the door with the bottle of whiskey under his arm and tried to make a graceful exit.
“Where are you going?” Charles sat up and pushed me away.
A look of longing crossed Stephen’s face, but he smiled and said, “I forgot something in the kitchen. I’ll head down there and go get it.”
“Stay with us, don’t go,” Charles said.
I took my cue from Stephen’s body language and chimed in. “Charles, let him go to the kitchen if he wants to go.”
Stephen reached the door. “I will give my lady of the rags and her prince some time alone. I’ll be fine.”
I mouthed “thank you” behind Charles’ back, and Stephen bowed to me. “I’ll meet you at the carriage later.”
Stephen left the room and we were alone. Without his friend in the room, Charles withdrew into his shell and sipped at the last drops of his whiskey and said, “Maybe you should go get him?”
I grabbed Charles’ drink and put it down. “No, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
He pulled at the blankets to cover his stumps. “I’m afraid.”
“You have no need to be.” I stood up and slunk over to the table across the room. I wobbled a bit, but did not fall. I dug into my coat pocket and pulled out a small vial and headed back to the bed. This time I stumbled at the end and fell forward.
“Are you all right?” He scooted forward and helped me sit up.
“I’ve had a bit too much whiskey.” I twirled my finger in the air and closed my eyes to focus. “I need to tell you something.”
He watched with interest at the vial that I held but hid in my hands. “I’m listening.”
Using his strong arms, he scooted himself back to the head of the bed. He leaned back on the pillows and waited. I knew that if I did not say something soon that my fear would rise up and swallow me, and that I would regret it for a long time. I closed my eyes and then just spoke and let the words spill out. “Last summer two men tried to rape me. I was able to get away, but I need you to know this before we start anything tonight.”
His expression softened and he reached for me. “I didn’t know. If you would rather that we call Stephen back in, I’m fine …”
“No, that’s not what I want.” I pulled out the vial and showed it to him. “We’re both wounded and I want tonight to be about healing. I don’t want to be rushed into anything, and I thought we could enjoy each other’s company and I could try something with you.” I bit my lip and waited for him to respond.
He didn’t answer me right away, but held back and kept quiet for a few moments. He then glanced down and pulled the sheets away, exposing his two stumps. The wounds had healed fully, but the scar tissue was still red and appeared sore to the touch. “This is who I am now. I can understand, somewhat, how you might feel about what happened to you.” He raised his head and looked me right in the eyes. “I really would like to kiss you tonight. I’m not looking for much more than that. I just want someone to treat me normally and not pity me. I just want …”
I came forward on my knees and put my finger on his lips. “I understand.” I kissed him on the lips, ever so lightly, and asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” He did not even pause to consider.
“Lie back and relax and let me work my magic.” I pushed him down and then pulled the pillows out from under his head. I wanted him to be flat on his back and relaxed.
“What do you want me to do?” He picked his head up to look at me.
“You’ll know what to do when it’s time, but, for now, just relax.” I showed him the vial. “I think you’re going to like this.”
He put his head back down and took a deep breath. To calm him, I rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and then I placed my palm on his shoulder. Opening the vial, I poured some oil onto my hands and then rubbed my hands together again. His bed was large enough that I was able to sit next to him without having to get off. Leaning forward, I massaged his upper arm and rubbed the oil in and moved my hand past his nose so that he could smell the jasmine infused oil.
He smiled. “That smells nice.”
“I’m glad you like it. Now close your eyes and relax. I’ve plenty of oil.” I poured more oil into my hands and massaged the rest of his arm. He had little hair on his body. My hands glided over his skin and I could feel his muscles, taut at first, and then after I dug into them with my fingers, he relaxed and became more at peace. I unbuttoned his shirt and then helped him pull it off and stared at his chest. He had a
small scar over his right breast, but the rest of him was muscular and hairless. He had a body that a sculptor would love to model out of clay. Firm and hairless, he had clean lines that marked his pectoral muscles that appeared to be chiseled by the gods. I took more oil in my hands and rubbed them quickly together, creating a funny squishing sound that caused us both to laugh.
I placed the palms of my hands on his chest and did not move, but closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He followed my example and did the same, and then we exhaled together. I could see that his nipples had hardened, and his penis rose in his undergarments. I lifted my hands up and then used my nails to slowly claw down his chest to his belly button. Pulling my hand off his stomach, I started at the top of his chest with my other hand and clawed down his body again. I could see tiny rivulets of oil form on his chest and then fill back in again. He sighed and relaxed more, allowing his hand to be unclenched at his side. He had begun to breathe more relaxed on his own and kept his eyes closed, trusting in me and in what I had planned for him.
Rubbing my hands together, I took the excess oil and reached over and massaged it into his left shoulder and down his arm. I had to stretch across his body and nearly touch his oily chest with my dress. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
He nodded slowly, a mixture of the spirits and the massage. “This is relaxing.” Charles opened his eyes and watched as I slipped out of my dress like a flying fish leaping up and out of the water. The dress fell off me and I knocked it to the floor and shivered. Although the fire burned bright, the winter’s chill still came in through the window.
“Come here.” He reached for me, but I shook my head and held him off.
“Please, I just don’t want to be touched yet.” I glanced away to hide the fear in my eyes. “I need you to trust me.”
He put his head back on the bed and closed his eyes without another word. I still wore a pair of undergarments that covered the bottom portion of me and I rolled over him to get to his left side. He was not expecting that and his stiff penis brushed against my thigh. Even through his underclothing, I could feel his excitement. I put a tiny bit more oil into my palm and then massaged his left hand. Using a knuckle, I dug into his palm and then used my thumbs to massage the rest of his hand, careful not to be too rough. When he had relaxed enough again, I squeezed the tip of each of his fingers and then placed my hands on the sides of his stomach. “I’d like to take your underclothing off. Would that be all right with you?”
I could see him tense up, but he said, “Yes.” He opened his eyes and I could see tears in them. “I’m so sorry.”
Taking my hands off of him, I put my hand on the side of his face and leaned in close to him. “Why? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I mean my legs. I’m sorry for how they look and don’t want to scare you off.” I could see the young boy in his face. He had not lost all hope and belief in life and become a hardened man yet. He still could be saved.
“There is nothing for you to apologize over. We both had a horrible thing happen to us, and we just need time to heal.” I kissed him on the forehead. “You will need to learn how to do things differently, but I believe in you.”
“I don’t know where to begin, what to do, I can’t even get to the bathroom any longer. It’s so hard.” The tears in his eyes faded, and a deep anger and frustration returned.
I massaged the sides of his head and then kissed him again on the forehead. “You are right. It is hard. And I don’t know how difficult it really is. But for right now, each of us needs to let go and trust the other. Can you do that?”
“But I’m scarred and broken. Why would you want to be with me?” I could hear the whiskey talking.
“Stop that. Stop that right now!” I faced him and allowed him to see me in the firelight. My breasts touched his chest and my hair covered part of my face. “What happened to you was tragic and horrible, but you lived. What we have right now is the best there is. It’s me, you, and no one else. For the rest of tonight, let us just accept who we are.” I leaned in and put my hand on his cheek. “Can you do that?”
“I can, but it’s going to be hard for me.” He went to touch my face and, on instinct, I flinched. “See? I feel the same way. I understand why you’re hesitant. It’s not easy for you either.”
“You are right.” I let him see my doubt and fear. “I don’t think I could do what you are right now. Lying back and having you touch me.” I shook the darkness from my thoughts. “No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just with what happened last summer. They held me down, and I couldn’t stop them. For tonight, I want to be in control and thought that I could show you that you could trust me.”
“May I kiss you?” He did not move but just stared at me. I could see the stubble on his chin and a brightness in his eyes from the fire.
I lowered myself onto his chest and kissed him, but then relaxed and let him take control. We kissed, and I felt him probe lightly with his tongue and allowed him to touch mine. A thrill shot through me and he pulled away only to lick my lips lightly and to kiss my nose and cheeks. He smiled and we giggled along together. I allowed my breasts to press against him and relaxed. He wrapped his arms around me and we kissed again, but this time we lost ourselves in it, and I enjoyed the sensation. A dark door within me opened, and I let the light in. The winter’s cold faded, and I took a brave step by allowing him to see me. To see into my true self and did not fear that he would cast me off or think me damaged. I allowed him to love me, and it felt good.
I pulled away from him, and he tried to kiss me again, but I wagged my finger at him. “You’re not going to get off that easy.”
He relaxed, and I went to pull the covers fully off the lower portion of his body. He reached for me, and I could feel the tension in his arms, resisting me. “Wait.”
I stopped and watched a complex array of emotions erupt on his face. “I’m afraid that if you see my stumps that you’ll not want to be with me anymore.”
“I might be young, but I’ve been through some rough times, and I’m not going to be disgusted or scared of your injury.” I lowered my head and kissed his chest. “You can trust me.”
He hesitated, and I could see he was unsure of what to do.
“If you’d rather I not see, that’s fine, but I want you to know that I’m not worried about it.” I put my chin on his chest and stared up at him.
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and said, “You can see.” He ripped the cover off and threw it on the floor.
I scooted off of him and pulled away his undergarments. He gasped as my hands touched his side, and I slipped the garment off as quickly as I could. His penis twitched, erect and ready. I ran my hands around his stomach and could see a clear bead of liquid at the tip of his penis. Clawing my way down his sides with my hands, I gently held onto his balls and gave a little tug. His penis twitched again and the bead of liquid at the tip dripped off and stretched down to his stomach as a thin thread, resembling a clear sticky taffy.
While holding him, I glanced at his legs and saw that they ended right above where his knees had been. The scars were red and looked sore, but were not puffy or infected. Keeping my right hand tugging on his scrotum, I used my left to massage his left leg and then his right. I let go of him and firmly massaged both of his legs, using excess amounts of oil. I made certain to avoid his scars and be sensitive to him but to also avoid any irritation from the oil.
“I’d like to try something, if you’re up for it.” I positioned myself near his head and kissed him.
“What would you like to try?” He put his arms around me and rubbed his hands up and down my arms as though to keep checking that I was real.
“I once heard a story about learning Latin and would like to know if you would be interested.” I pulled my undergarments off and sat naked next to him. When he went to touch me, I playfully slapped his hand.
“If you teach me, I will try.” He started to roll over, and I stopped him.
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��No, for tonight, I want to be in control.” I wanted to say more but stopped. “It will help me relax.”
“When the lady of the rags is naked on your bed and asks for you to perform cunnilingus on her, you listen to what she wants.” He crossed his arms behind his head and waited for me to direct him.
“Have you done this with a girl before?” I asked.
“If I tell you, will you not laugh at me?” The spirits had affected both of us, and we balanced that line between being drunk and tipsy.
“Why would I laugh at you? I’m naked on your bed and want you to lick my cunt.” I tickled him, and he grabbed my hands to stop me.
“When I was about ten years old, my older cousin came to stay with us. She was twelve, and we hid in one of the bedrooms and she told me what she had seen her father and mother doing one night. So she pulled up her dress for me and told me to lick her.” He laughed, and I saw that he blushed. “I had no idea what I was doing but tried it.”
“Did you like it?” I was intrigued that he had such experience in this area.
“I don’t really remember much. We tried it for that afternoon and the next, but neither of us knew what we were doing.” He lay there, and then his forehead wrinkled as I could see his focus drift away from me. “She died of yellow fever a few years after.”
“I’m so sorry.” I kissed him on his forehead. “It’s getting late and we’ve left Stephen on his own for a while. Do you want me to leave?” I couldn’t get a true sense of what he wanted, and the whiskey had clouded me a bit. I wasn’t making the best decisions of my life that night.
He turned back to me and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I haven’t thought of Lilly in a long time, and it’s probably not a good idea for me to talk about one girl in front of another, but I wanted to share the story with you.”
I straddled his stomach and massaged his chest and then leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled me closer to him, and, as awkward as our position was, we kissed for a while. Our tongues touched, and I tried to learn how to go with his so that we flowed more naturally together. A feeling rose deep within, and I wanted him to lick me. I was curious on how I would feel, and a part of me wanted to just let go. It was our night, but I wanted to make certain that I was comfortable and in control of the evening. No man would force himself on me again, and in a twisted way, I knew that to be true with Charles because he would not be able to chase after me. Not that he would try to harm me, but with nearly being raped last summer, I wanted an extra bit of insurance that I would dictate my fate and only me. I pulled away from him and then rose up on my knees and shimmied myself up over his face and placed my palms on the backboard of his bed. He licked my thigh first and then put his hands on my thighs and bent his neck to come closer to me. His second lick caused a stirring within. He did not have much finesse or control, and he was unsure of what he was doing, and a part of me enjoyed that. I would teach him.
