Losing Johnny

by Rachel Dunning

  And he’d gone all out and done...this.

  Tiago pushed my hair back behind my ears. Leaned down to kiss the left one, just the lobe. His lips lingered, his tongue moving slowly.

  And warmth seeped out of me.

  My hands went to his back, under his shirt. He had put on a dress shirt tonight, just like Thunder had done for mom a week ago. Tiago was also not a dress-shirt kind of guy.

  He unlaced the back of the dress I’d put on, slid the tops over my shoulders. Kissed my left shoulder, my right.

  I tilted my head back, starting to fade, starting to float. Mist surrounded me, a fog, a delightful haze that took me away until there was nothing left...but his kiss, and his lips, and the hairs standing up on my skin.

  My hands found his shirt buttons, undid them. One by one.

  My lips dived onto his nipple, hungry for it. Bit it. I dug my nails into his torso and he groaned.

  His teeth scraped against my shoulder, sent fire across my shivering body—shivering for him, to feel him, to be filled by him.

  I whimpered.

  His hands slid into my dress from above, pulled it over my shoulders. And it fell in a puddle at my feet.

  Tiago bent to his knees. He pulled my panties down. To my knees, my ankles. I stepped out of them. Stood there. Waiting. His nose found me, inhaled. Pressed just slightly into me.

  And then, violently, without warning, his hands clasped the back of both my buttcheeks.

  And he drove his tongue inside me.

  -5-

  I fell back onto the bed. My moans bounced like gunfire against the walls. Tiago licked, pressed into me with two long fingers. Curled them upwards until I screamed.

  I writhed, couldn’t wait. Clutched his hair, pulled him up by it. But he stayed down there.

  Eventually he stood, undid his pants. Let them drop.

  When I saw his cock, almost bursting, shrieking for release, my mouth watered. Unthinking, I sat up and put it inside my mouth. I just wanted him, wanted him so much, wanted his salt and flavor, wanted to feel the vessel of his body creak as it collapsed and shattered.

  I hollowed my cheeks and bobbed, first slow, then fast. His hands wrought fury against my hair, grappled madly for composure. “Oh, yes. Oh, fuck, yes!” he said. He pushed into me. I wanted to feel him, to feel his heat in my mouth, bursting.

  But he pulled away at the end, gasping for air, his cock hard and red and ready to explode.

  I slid back down on the bed. Spread my legs.

  He eased above me, tight muscles flexing with every movement.

  I instinctively widened even more.

  He knelt, grabbed my legs under my knees. Pushed them back so that my knees touched my breasts. This would be deep.

  He grabbed his shaft, maneuvered it to just between my folds—“Ohgod”—and pressed, teased me, moved it around until slick heat dripped down my skin onto the bed.

  He waited.

  Waited.

  “Ohgod,” I cried, eyes clenched tight..

  And then he slid the full length of himself into me. So fucking far high that I could almost taste him.

  I gasped.

  And then I screamed for blessed mercy.

  -6-

  “Ohdeargod, that’s so good. Oh, my... Oh, fuck. Oh...”

  He held himself there, so deep. Controlling himself.

  He grabbed my legs, eased them down.

  His face was contorted, so beautiful, flushed.

  He started to pump—“Oh, yes. Oh, God, yes!”—faster and faster. Lifted my—“Oh shit...”—left leg. Thrust in. Pumped madly, furiously. In and out. The tattoo of flames on his waist writhed and came alive. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh—”

  I couldn’t believe it. I was gonna come. Not even a minute into it.

  “—don’t stop. Don’t stop. OH, YES! OH... I’m gonna...”

  My voice box closed.

  Faster. Faster. Faster!

  He growled, groaned. Stroked me wildly with the length of his shaft.

  “Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Oh, dear sweet Jeezus.”

  He pumped. Slammed. Thrust!

  His voice, a slow, paining rumble: “Ohhhhhhhhhhh—”

  Faster!

  “—YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  Heat filled me as his load crashed into me.

  “OH, GAWHHHHD!” I howled.

  I arched my pussy up into him, thrust my pelvis high as he pushed down against me. We tumbled, swirling down the canyon, turning, bodies clasped, wind rushing against our ears.

  Hands scratching, teeth biting, “Fucking yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh!”

  His arms crushed my body to his. So tight I could hardly breathe. So tight...that I felt every quiver of his orgasming muscles against mine. Every tremor of his pleasure. He held me so tight...that I fell in love with him. Right then. In that very moment.

  But I didn’t say it first.

  “Catherine.”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “I think... I think... I think I love you.”

  Tiago couldn’t see my eyes. But they were wet when I told him I loved him too.

  -7-

  We made love—hard, desperate, hungry love—over and over that night.

  I straddled him, rode him as I’d done so many times before, only this time he was inside me. So wonderfully deep inside me. I rolled my hips against him, relishing the flash of his orgasm as he filled me time and again. He took me from behind, lying on top of me as he breathed heat into my ear and helped me climax with his fingers while his cock slowly stroked my singing nerves. His hands found my breasts, kneaded them, left them aching.

  At one AM, maybe two, he fell asleep.

  I got up, pleasantly sore. And I threw a log on the fire. Sat there naked, daydreaming, lost in a haze.

  Not much later I went back to bed.

  At six AM, Johnny called.

  -8-

  “Hey, what’s up?” Johnny’s voice was soft over the crackling phone line.

  “Hey. How you doin’?” I tried to feign joy. The stab of hearing his voice again after so long was maddening.

  “I’m OK.” He sounded down, hoarse. “I...miss you.”

  “Johnny...” The words were almost a plea. “Don’t do this.”

  Silence.

  “J, c’mon,” I continued, “let’s...be cool about this. It’s been...forever—we’ve survived so far. How’s, uhm, what’s her name?”

  “Marina.”

  I swallowed hard at hearing her name. “Yeah—how’s...Marina?” I wasn’t really interested.

  “I don’t know.” An interminable silence. “We broke up.”

  Tiago, lying naked next to me, roused. He put his hand on my bare leg. “Cathy, who’s that, baby?”

  My world exploded.

  -9-

  “I’m coming to the states,” Johnny said.

  “Wh—”

  “Cathy, who is it? Who’s calling so early?”

  “Look, uhm...” I was careful not to use Johnny’s name. “Just hold on.”

  Tiago frowned at me, got up onto his elbows. “Everything OK?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep, baby.” I put on some clothes and kissed Tiago on the forehead, kissed his lips. “I love you!” I whispered.

  And I meant it.

  I really meant it.

  He smiled, bleary-eyed, kissed me back. Lay back down.

  I took the phone out onto the deck, looked out at the magnificent lake reflecting the trees and the morning blue sky. “Hey,” I whispered. “It’s not like you to call so early.”

  “It’s not like me to call at all.”

  “True.”

  “Nicole wasn’t answering so I called you. Scratch it off as a drunken call.”

  “Nicole?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you hated her.”

  “Did I say Nicole? I must be drunker than I thought.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Almost a full bottle of Vi
nho do Porto. 1976 Vintage. Expensive stuff. It was just sitting here going to waste. And a few tots of Vinho da Madeira.”

  “Christ, Johnny. Since when do you drink so much?”

  “Don’t worry, babe. It’s not a regular thing. Look, uhm, forget I called. I’m sorry. My mistake.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Marina. What happened?”

  Pause. “You’re digging.”

  Actually, for the first time I felt like I wasn’t. Last night with Tiago had changed something for me. Something major. “I’m not digging. What happened? Tell me.”

  “We got too close. What can I say?”

  “Too close?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When will you be in the states?”

  “A month from now. Two. Three.”

  “I’ll come over for dinner at your parents’ place. We should talk. I’m worried about you.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  I didn’t know what he meant by that, so I said nothing.

  “You got nothing to worry about, Cat. Business is booming. I’m making lots of money, got a new car, partying on weekends, living the life. What else could I want?”

  I didn’t comment. “Let me know when you’re flying out. We’ll meet at your parents’ place.”

  Pause. “OK.”

  “See you, Johnny.”

  “See you.”

  I looked at my phone, lost for a second in the unreality of it, when I heard Tiago behind me. “Johnny?”

  I almost dropped the phone. Turned. “Yeah.” Tiago sat on a chair, a glower on his face.

  “A little strange for you to be calling him after the first night we have sex.”

  “I didn’t call him. He called me.”

  “I won’t compete with him, Catherine. I’m not that kind of man.”

  I strode up to him, cupped his cheeks. I felt him resist when I moved down to kiss him. “You don’t need to.”

  He gripped my wrists, held them tight so they hurt. Glared at me. “I mean it.”

  “And so do I.” I yanked my wrists away.

  Words wouldn’t handle this. If I’d caught him talking to Simone, I’d be pretty wobbly in the knees as well. I grabbed his hand, pulled him into the cabin. When we got inside, I undressed in front of him, stood there naked.

  Tiago smiled, eyed my breasts.

  He took me ravenously on the nearest couch.

  Twice.

  -10-

  Propped up on chairs, our feet on the wooden railing, looking out at the lake: “I wish we could stay here forever,” I said.

  Tiago put his hand on my leg, sipped a caipirinha he’d made. (His was virgin, because he was driving later. Mine was...strong.) “So do I,” he said.

  We had made love an uncountable number of times today. We were gonna drive out at two AM so Tiago could be back at school on Monday.

  He made us another fire that night and I lay in his arms. “What does this mean?” I asked him, pulling the wrist with the barbed wire tat on it.

  Tiago looked at it, sighed. Looked vacantly at the fire.

  “Tiago?”

  He cleared his throat, readied himself. “It’s...after my mom died, after I saw... Well...” He closed his eyes. “The barbed wire is a reminder of how close I came, you know... The wrist. How close I came to...”

  “I get it,” I whispered.

  And I really did.

  It was that very feeling that had brought me and Nicole together as friends. And split me and Johnny apart. The feeling that you can’t face anything other than the next moment, the next breath, the next second of still being alive.

  I got it completely.

  -11-

  Monday, Jul 20

  Sitting on swings, at a children’s park near the promenade.

  “You know what he said to me?” I said.

  “What?” Nicole asked.

  “That he tried to call you first. Can you believe that?”

  The slightest pause. “Hah! Crazy.” Nicole looked away.

  “Are you still talking to him?” I was just interested. I didn’t care if she spoke to him or not.

  “Pfft! No! Not at all! I mean, sure, the occasional text.”

  “You text often?” Again, I was just interested.

  “I don’t know? I mean, what’s up with all the questioning, damnit? Am I on trial?”

  Her reactions were unusual. I looked at her blankly, trying to read her. She was pissed. This wasn’t like her. “What’s going on, Nic?”

  “Nothing’s going on. I swear it.”

  We stared at each other for another few moments. There was pain in her eyes. “I swear it!” she said. Her lip trembled. “You mean the world to me, Cat. Please, you gotta believe me. We just text every now and then to say hi. You know, me trying to make good on all my shit from school. Kinda like My name is Earl. I swear to you! You’re my best friend. I would never go behind your back on something like this.”

  “I wasn’t saying you were. No need to get so worked up about it.” It really wasn’t like her. Maybe something else was going on. “You got anything else on your mind?”

  “No. No.”

  “OK. Come here.”

  I wrapped my arm around her neck, via the chain of the swing, and brought her to me. We sat quietly like that for a long while.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ~ Spark ~

  -1-

  Thunderstruck.

  Down on her luck.

  Needing to pluck

  away the tears which had ripped

  and stripped

  and kicked

  her down to the ground.

  Awestruck.

  Things run amuck.

  Needing to suck

  out the venom which had poured

  and soared

  and chased

  her down like a hound.

  Bewildered.

  Socked in the jaw

  by a feeling so raw

  that it defied all the laws

  that she knew;

  that were true.

  Until he was found.

  Rain-drenched.

  His love had been pure,

  and the pain he endured.

  Now you.

  His lightning.

  Brightening

  the skies

  without lies

  as it tries

  to claim

  the reason to bring you two together.

  Alice.

  Out the rabbit hole.

  Into the sun.

  You and him.

  Thunder and Lightning.

  One.

  Poem accompanying Studio Portrait of Alice and Thunder.

  Photo Taken on Saturday, August 1

  Poem written on Monday, August 10

  Final Draft.

  Book Title:

  Rough Love - A Photographic Portrait of America’s Toughest Men (and the Things and People They Love)

  -2-

  Stone’s photo (remember him? a.k.a Worthington Westerley?) was of him with Jax, replete with his doggy-denim vest and shades. Jax was licking Stone’s round nose in the shot. And Stone smiled dreamily against a white background, not a care in the world, revealing his gold teeth.

  Stone had never looked so much in love.

  -3-

  I put some teaser shots of my “Tough Men” onto the web to hype up the upcoming book. I still didn’t have a publisher, but I did have a literary agent which Nicole had found for me through the contacts she’d made at her screenwriter’s workshop. Not only was I shooting bikers, Pat Abreu had arranged for longshoreman to be part of the shoots as well.

  We had done two shoots now, the first being on August first. We were shooting on Saturdays.

  But Thunder was at our place more often than that.

  It turns out he was pretty well off, and that he’d made all his money legally (in case you were wondering) before he’d hit the road. Music business or big-time Texan exe
cutive or something like that. He didn’t talk much about his old life. Losing Rain four years before had destroyed him, and then he’d gotten his neck inked, hit the road, and turned a weekend passion and “club” into a full-time thing.

  Not all the members were full-time.

  We had to schedule several photo shoots, there were just too many shots to take. Thunder was also “negotiating” with other “clubs” for me to take photos of them, too. Them and their girlfriends, wives, kids, motorbikes, dogs, cats, tarantulas and, yes, even their snakes. Anything they loved.

  I loved the way he used the word “negotiating.” He sounded a little like Don Corleone from The Godfather when he said it.

  Thunder met Tiago at my birthday party on August fifteenth. That was a fun Saturday. He took on the role of father figure, came dressed in his biker gear, brought some friends along. Tiago didn’t look stressed at first, but after I’d left the two alone for a few minutes, he seemed to be sweating. I asked him later what Thunder had said to him, and Tiago told me, “He said that...if I ever hurt you, he’ll cut my balls off and stick them up my ass. And then he’ll take them out again and make me give myself a blowjob. Then he smiled like nothing had happened and offered me a beer.”

  I started laughing hysterically.

  Tiago stayed serious. “Catherine,” he said, “he fucking meant it.”

  I laughed a little less.

  When Tiago still didn’t join me, I simply swallowed. And then secretly smiled.

  Trust is one thing. Having a bazooka to your head is another. I liked the bazooka.

  -4-

  Johnny never called me on my birthday, merely texted.

  I was glad he hadn’t.

  I was finally coming to realize that us staying close-as-skin-friends after having been lovers, had been a childish dream. There’d been too much electricity between us as teenagers, as lovers. Too much spark. And when you bring two charged electrodes together in near proximity, they fire. Inevitably. Always.