by Dylan Allen
At the top of the stairs is another door. Simon opens it and we step inside. It’s dark except for a light on a desk that sits in an otherwise sparsely furnished room.
There is a long, black leather couch in the corner. We walk over and sit down.
I am not sure how this conversation is going to end, but we are clearly both apprehensive about what we have to say to each other and about what we will hear, as well.
I look over at him and he appears lost in thought. I don’t want to rush him and honestly, I am trying to decide how to tell him a story I have avoided telling for most of my adult life.
I think about my parents and sisters, and I realize I am stroking the fern that is always around my neck.
“Tell me about that pendant,” Simon says breaking the silence.
I’m surprised by his question, but happy to share.
“My parents gave it to me when I was too young to understand its significance. In Ghana, before Christianity there was an indigenous religion with the many aspects of God represented by symbols called Adinkra. This one, Aya, symbolizes perseverance and resilience. My mother told me it was because, even at five, there wasn’t a challenge I wouldn’t rise to.”
Of course, they had no idea what it would come to mean to me. I think about it and that despite everything, I have persevered and am sitting here against all odds with a man who I have started to develop real feelings for.
Right now, I can feel it almost pulsing around my neck. It is telling me, Addie, rise to this challenge. Be brave. Tell him.
So I start to speak. I don’t look at Simon as I talk. I tell him about that morning thirteen years ago when my whole world changed. `
I don’t tell him exactly who my father is, I don’t think it’s important, right now. I tell him we had to move. I tell him how much I resented my mother for her defense of him. For her refusal to be angry at him. How there was nothing I wanted more than to be nothing like the weak, foolish woman I thought her to be.
Simon listens quietly and when I finally muster the courage to look at him, he is watching me with a look of admiration in his eyes, which causes my speech to falter. He reaches out to take my hand and squeezes it softly. It’s his cue for me to continue.
I tell him how I have been driven in my career pursuit. I’ve wanted to make sure I could always stand on my own two feet. I confess my fear of getting involved with anyone because I don’t think I could take the betrayal I had watched my mother endure.
As my confessions, pent up for over ten years, spill from my lips, I feel a lightening in my soul. I feel a calm I haven’t felt my entire life.
Sitting here, talking with this man who I’ve known for such a short time, I feel a kinship I’ve never known before.
The look in his eye—still shining with a look of admiration and understanding—I realize this is how he has always looked at me.
“Simon, tell me your story.” I say abruptly. I am suddenly eager to know why I feel this way. What has he suffered that allows him to know my suffering so well?
He sighs. It’s a heavy sigh, full of resignation. Then he starts to speak. I don’t release his hand because I can sense he needs the contact.
“I don’t know my father. Well, that’s not true. I know who he is. He was never married to my mother. They were together when I was born, so I have his last name. I know he is from Ghana, and he lived in the same neighborhood as we did until I was twelve, then he disappeared and no one knows where he went. Not that it matters. He didn’t have anything to do with me or Kyle, who was born four years after I was.”
He looks at me as if gauging my response. I just smile at him, hoping it’s all the encouragement he needs to continue. It is.
“My mother is an alcoholic and a drug addict. After Kyle was born, my father stopped coming around all together, and she had different men in and out of our home. We lived in a council flat.” He pauses, “Do you know what that is?”
I shake my head in the negative.
“It’s like state housing. I think you all call it welfare. Anyway, because she had kids, we always had a roof over our heads. My father’s family always tried to make up for his lack of interest, so we always had food and clothes, too. I knew from a very early age school was going to be my ticket out of the hell of my life, for me and Kyle, and then eventually for Ashley.”
“I spent most of my childhood trying to keep my brother and sister out of my mother’s path. When she was drunk and high, she was mean, and when you added her boyfriends into the mix, it was ugly.” He grimaces.
“I was always big for my age, so I made sure to use my size to my advantage, becoming a shield for Kyle and Ashley. When her rages turned violent, I made sure she took it out on me.”
This makes me shudder. What he must have suffered.
“I couldn’t be home all the time, though. When I was fourteen, I got a scholarship to play rugby at Harrow. Most boys boarded there, but I didn’t. I couldn’t leave them alone at home, so I took the train every day. Rugby meant I had practice after school. Kyle and Ashley knew they had to stay at Mercy’s house until I could come pick them up.”
I interject, “Mercy? Henry’s nanny?”
“Yes, she is my father’s sister.” He says quickly, clearly eager to get the story told.
“One evening, I got to Mercy’s house and no one was there. I didn’t have a mobile phone, and I had no idea where they were. I ran home. When I got there, my mother was passed out on the couch. I walked into the bedroom to find Ashley naked in the corner crying, while the bastard straddled Kyle on the bed trying to force him to…,” Simon’s voice is barely a whisper now and it breaks as he continues, “to suck him off.”
This rushes out of his mouth like he is expelling a bite of poisonous fruit. I can’t control the sob escaping my mouth. I think of Kyle, easy going and handsome. The horror of what I’ve just heard is beyond measure. I can’t imagine what Simon felt witnessing it.
He has stopped speaking and the haunted look in his eyes breaks my heart.
“Oh, God, Simon. Do you need to stop talking?” I ask him. I want to reach out and hug him, but I don’t know what to do. What he wants me to do. The anguish I feel emanating from him is killing me.
“No, I want to get this out. I’ve never told anyone these details. Not even Mercy.” He takes a deep breath before he continues.
“When the motherfucker saw me, he jumped off Kyle and charged me. I was ready for him, almost the size I am now and full of rage induced adrenaline. I knocked him out flat. I called the police and while I was waiting for them, I gathered Ashley up and got her dressed. Kyle was already dressed and was begging me not to tell anyone what I’d seen. Ashley was in shock. She was crying, but didn’t say a word. I asked Kyle what happened—how he ended up alone at home.” His hand balls into a fist.
“He said Mercy had been called into work, so they had come home. They had walked in on him and our mother having sex. The pervert tried to convince mum she should let them join in, but she’d balked. They went to her room and Kyle thinks they took more hits of whatever drugs they were using because next thing he knows, he was carrying our mother, barely conscious, out of the bedroom. He’d grabbed Ashley by her hair and pulled her into the room. Kyle ran in after them, but he was still so small. The bastard pinned him down, held a knife to his throat, and made Ashley undress. He told her he was going to kill Kyle if she didn’t.”
I feel like I am going to be sick. Simon’s tone is flat and almost robotic as he recounts his nightmare.
“Then he turned his attention back to Kyle which is when I came in. The police took the asshole and my mother away. She has been in jail ever since. She was charged with child endangerment and criminal possession of a controlled substance.” His expression is full of disgust.
“Given it was her third offense, her sentence was long and stiff. We all immediately went into care. Kyle and Ashley were together for a while, but Kyle got into Harrow, too, and we both were boarders. Ash
ley…” His voice breaks and his eyes are glassy with tears. “Ashley was never really the same. She was angry, withdrawn, and ran away frequently. Five years ago, she disappeared and no one had seen her until she showed up pregnant with Henry. She is in prison now, too.”
He rubs his hand over his face and leans back on the couch.
“She has refused to see us since she has been in there. She won’t even see Henry. I’m his guardian for now, but we are moving to full adoption, as soon as her parental rights are terminated. She initiated it two months ago.”
He looks up at me, his eyes full of pain. “I failed her, Addie. Now she is lost to us.” He looks away in shame.
At this I sit up and grab his hand. “Simon, look at me,” I demand. I know my voice is hard, but I need him to hear what I have to say.
“You did not fail her. You had a mother whose job it was to look after you all, and she didn’t. You were just a kid. You did the best you could for both her and Kyle by going to school every day to try make sure their future wouldn’t be as hard as their past.” I speak with all of the vehemence I can muster.
“You stepped up to take care of Henry when most people wouldn’t have. None of what happened to Kyle and Ashley is your fault. But you can take credit for what has happened since. I met Kyle, he seems like a really happy, young man.”
“He is.” Simon’s voice fairly bursts with pride as he agrees with me. “He’s finishing his Masters at UCL, and he will be graduating with honors. He took his therapy really seriously and has done his work. Sometimes I think he’s more okay than I am.” The last part is accompanied by a chuckle.
“Is this why you pushed me away?” I ask him tentatively, not wanting to change the subject but needing to know.
“Yes and no,” he says soberly. “Addie, I didn’t know if I could handle being with someone and being there for my family. The first time I came to your place, Henry got hurt. I felt like it was a sign. I felt like my mother. Getting my rocks off while the person who depends on me actually needed me.”
He stands up, breaking the contact of our joined hands. He starts to pace the office.
“I wanted you. Hell, more than that, I needed you. From the first time we met, I looked at you and felt like I could see a story in your eyes. One that was as sad as mine and I wanted to know it.” He stops in front of the door and leans back against it to look at me
“I’ve spent the last fifteen years blaming myself for what happened to Kyle and Ashley. I’ve told myself if I had been more present it wouldn’t have happened. I know it’s not true, but it’s how I feel.”
He starts to pace again.
“Then you were at my office, and I felt like I was being punished, seeing you every day, but not being able to touch you, especially after having already touched you, knowing what you taste like—it was torture. When you showed up at my house that day, I knew I shouldn’t have, but you are a temptation I just can’t resist.” His eyes close on that memory and his smile is wry and brief.
“Then Kyle walked in and all I could think was this is what happened to him all those years ago, and that I was behaving like those despicable people. I know I treated you terribly that night. I am so sorry. Sorrier than I can say. I just totally freaked out.”
He walks back to the couch then sits down again. “But that night changed things for me. Kyle confronted me about the way I’ve been living. He showed me the insanity of denying myself a chance with you.”
I burst out laughing at that. Thinking about the parallels our lives have taken in the last couple of weeks.
“What’s so funny?” He looks amused rather than annoyed at my laughter.
“It’s just that Cara gave me the same lecture last week. Telling me I need to stop letting my past dictate my future.” I yawn and look at my watch. It was almost 1am.
“You’re tired?” He reaches a hand up to stroke my hair. I nuzzle into the palm that is caressing my head. We move towards each other at the same time and my head lands in the crook of his neck and my arms go around his waist.
“I am exhausted… mentally, emotionally. But physically, I’m still where we were an hour ago.” I mumble this into his neck and hope he gets the hint.
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes dark and penetrating. “I want to take you home. Will you let me?”
Instead of answering, I lean my face towards him and kiss him, almost chastely. When I break the kiss, he smiles at me - his grin full of wicked promises. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me off the couch, and walks quickly towards the door.
October 11, 2014
After we find Cara and Louis, we say our goodnights and we catch a cab back to her place. This evening has been a surprise. I knew she’d be here, but I didn’t know if she would be happy to see me or not. I didn’t expect it to go so well, and I feel unburdened by our conversation. The gratitude I feel at her lack of judgement is almost overwhelming.
The mood between us has changed dramatically since we left the club. When we got in the car, all I could think about was being inside her, and now, I am thinking about how important this night is. Once we make this next step, I won’t be able to walk away from her. We hold hands the whole way home. Addie’s grasp on my hand is tight and almost desperate in quality. I know she is worried about how I will behave. I can’t wait to show her that I am serious and that I am not going to let her down again. I squeeze her hand just as we pull up outside of her building.
The ride up the elevator is quiet and tense, we don’t speak, we just hold hands.
As soon as we walk inside, her apartment, she flips the lights on and starts to speak.
“Can I get you anything to…”
I cut her off by pressing my mouth to hers.
I kiss her and her mouth opens for me. I push my tongue inside and lick her mouth. I can taste her vodka soda mingling with the sweetness of her; it’s like a cool drink after a long, hot run.
She groans and rubs her hips against mine. My cock is already as hard as a fucking stone.
I have to be inside her.
I break our kiss and grab her chin. I force her to make eye contact. Her eyes are glazed with desire, the color of cool caramel and I am even more desperate for her.
“I promise, next time we will go slow, but right now I want to fuck you like I should have two months ago.”
I reach between us and unbutton her jeans. I pull them all the way off. She is completely naked from the waist down. I can’t help but to stop and stare at her. She is so full of surprises.
“Why’d you stop, baby?” she mumbles.
“Ad, you’re not wearing underwear.” I state the obvious.
“I rarely do,” was her nonchalant response.
I pick her up, swing around and lay her on the dining table in the dining room.
I spread her legs and reveal her beautiful, glistening, neatly waxed pussy. My mouth waters; but my hard cock jerks and reminds me he has been waiting his turn. I reach for my wallet and fish out a condom.
Never taking my eyes off her, I open the packet with my teeth. She is magnificent. Her hair is fanned out on the table with her eyes hooded and focused on me. Her lips bruised and swollen from my kisses and all I can think of is this beautiful woman is mine.
“Addie, you know when I fuck you tonight, that’s it. Right?” I ask.
She only nods. I know she knows what I am talking about. We have hit a lot of bumps on this journey, but from the moment we met, we both have felt the pull of this inevitability between us.
“Addie, I need you to answer me. With words,” I clarify when she only nods again.
“Yes, Simon. This is it.” She says. Her voice clear. Her eyes wide open. She sits up and reaches for my pants. She unbuckles my belt, unbuttons my pants, and yanks down my zipper.
She takes the open condom wrapper from my hand and pulls the condom out. I pull my trousers and briefs down together in one swift yank. My cock springs free and stands at attention, honed in on its target.
&
nbsp; Her small, beautiful hands reach out, and she swipes the drop of pre-cum off the head of my cock with her thumb. “Addie,” I growl in warning.
She looks up at through those long lashes and smiles a wicked smile. But she doesn’t play with me. She wraps her hand around the base of my cock, and rolls the condom down.
I cover her body with mine, putting my hands between us to stroke her pussy. “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”
“Always for you.”
I kiss her, grab her hip with one hand, the base of my cock with the other, and line it up with her pussy.
Eyes on hers, I start to ease into her. I try to give her a chance to adjust to my size when I see her wince, but I can’t. She is too wet, too hot, and I thrust home until I am buried balls deep in the sweetest pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.
We moan in unison and my eyes shut.
I knew this would be a fast fuck, but I had no idea how fucking savage it would be.
As soon as I’m inside her. Addie wraps her legs around me. Her heels dig into my lower back like she is spurring me on. Her nails claw at my back and any restraint I have is gone.
I can hear the table scraping the ground with every thrust and she is chanting low in her throat, “Simon, Simon, Simon”. Besides this siren’s song, all I hear is the blood as it starts to rush in my ears.
I reach between us to find her clit and I start to rub it. She grabs my hand and directs my motion. I love it. She knows what she needs and is going to fucking show me.
I lift her up and turn around so I am sitting on the table and she is straddling me.
“You like this? I want you to fuck me. Ride me, Addie. I want to see your tits bounce, baby. I want to watch your face when you come.”
She looks down at me. The look on her face is one of raw determination. She nods her head like we just made a pact. She brings her knees to either side of my hips and starts to fuck me.
Her eyes closed, she rides me, chasing her orgasm. I stare up at her and marvel at the power she has over me. In this moment, I am this woman’s slave.
I put my fingers back on her clit, where she showed me before, and I start to rub. My other hand snakes under her top and I thumb her nipple.
