by Lisa Ferrari
I hurt him. Badly.
He warned me, but I did it anyway.
I want to say something to make it all go away.
But, alas, the mighty wordsmith is struck dumb.
Big surprise.
I sit on the edge of the bed and cross my legs.
The ocean looks beautiful through the window. The sun has almost set and the sky is orange and purple. The water is too cold to swim in, I bet. But a walk on the beach would be nice. That might be a romantic thing to do, a way to reconnect.
Especially if we held hands again.
Kellan rises from his chair and extends his hand to me. “Come.”
I take his hand, not caring so much where we go as how we relate while we do it.
As if he’d read my mind, Kellan leads me to the elevator, down through the lobby, and out to the beach. We take off our shoes and leave them at the base of the stairs leading to the sand, which is cool under my feet. Cool and soft. I find it soothing; I already feel better.
We stroll along the waterline, hand in hand.
After a time, I dare to put my arm around Kellan’s waist.
He returns the gesture.
I put my hand in his back pocket.
He puts his hand in my back pocket.
His hand on my butt. Wow.
Definite progress.
We stop walking and stare at the water. The sun is setting. We couldn’t ask for a more romantic setting.
I want to kiss him. Desperately. If we have a long, passionate, loving kiss, the way we used to, I’ll know everything is okay.
Or on its way to being okay, at least.
Maybe.
I dare to hope that I haven’t messed things up beyond repair.
I stand on my tiptoes in order to reach Kellan’s lips with mine. Just as I do, he turns away and goes back to admiring the ocean and the orange sun that’s about to set.
Oh…
He doesn’t want to kiss me.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes.
I start to panic.
What am I going to do?
How can I hide my tears?
Kellan still has his arm around me, he’s going to feel me shuddering if I start to weep like a widow, which in a way I am, given that I was stupid enough to kill the only real relationship I’ve ever cared about.
Kellan says, “It’s too bad we’re not out here at sunrise.”
He speaks softly. I can barely hear him over the crashing of the waves and the rushing of the sea foam.
I calm my tears and steady my voice as best I can. “Why?”
“Metaphors.”
“Metaphors?”
“Yeah, metaphors. Or am I not using the word correctly?” Kellan reaches down and wipes the tears away from my cheeks just as they spill over from my eyes.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Use it in a sentence.”
“Okay. ‘The sunset is beautiful but a sunrise would be a more fitting metaphor for Claire and Kellan’s relationship.’ ” He looks down at me. “How was that?”
“Fine. But, what do you mean?”
“Claire bear, use your powers of deductive reasoning honed through all those years of English Lit classes you had to sit through until you could get back to your dorm to read The Stand and hear about Denise’s latest romp with a guy named Skip at Alpha Omega Suckmeoff.”
I’m having difficulty understanding what he’s talking about. I’m getting pissed, though. Kellan just refused my kiss and now he’s going on about metaphors. “Please don’t call me ‘Claire bear’.”
“Why not? Denise does.”
“I know. My mom does too and I hate it. The only reason I tolerate it from them is because I know they don’t realize how condescending it is. But I can’t take it from you. Call me something else.”
“Okay. Sorry.” He gives me a squeeze. “Okay?”
“Okay.” I tilt my head back, so we’re face to face. Please kiss me.
Kellan runs his fingers through my hair, down my face, brushing my cheek. His hand slides around to the back of my head and he kisses me hard.
It was exactly what I was waiting and hoping for, yet I’m taken by surprise.
Kellan’s mouth opens so I open mine, too. Our tongues meet, softly and a bit tentative at first. But then we tilt our heads and open our mouths and devour one another as the familiar chemistry takes over. We both moan as we kiss deep, soulful kisses of great longing.
Wow.
This is what I’ve missed.
This is what I wanted.
This is what I feared I would never again know.
Kellan’s long, warm, soft tongue explores my mouth. I can’t get enough of him.
AT LAST, THE moment subsides like a receding wave at our feet. Kellan presses his forehead to mine. His eyes are closed. “God, I’ve been waiting a week to do that,” he says.
“A week?”
“Ever since I got back from North Carolina.”
“Why didn’t you kiss me at Denise’s, when you first saw me? Or at your place? Or up in the room? I’ve been waiting. I was afraid you didn’t want me anymore.”
“I know. I wanted to. Really, I did. But I was…scared.”
“Scared? Of me? How can you be scared of me?”
“Because I love you.”
My breath hitches.
He said it.
He actually said it.
OMG OMG OMG OMG….
Say it back, Claire.
I’m scared.
So what! Say it back. Now!
“I love you too.”
Wow.
I said it.
I’ve never said that before. Not to a man, anyway. My mom. My dad; he’s a man but it’s obviously not the same; that would be wrong and highly disturbing.
Kellan and I stare into one another’s eyes.
His eyes….
I’d almost forgotten about his eyes. They’re so blue. So beautiful.
And he loves me. He really does. He said it.
“Now what?” he breathes, heavily and huskily. I know that voice. It means he wants to be naked with me and for us to do stuff to each other. Fun stuff. Oh God…I’m getting moist and antsy merely thinking about it.
“Um, what were you saying about sunsets and metaphors?”
Kellan laughs. “Uh, I’m not sure. Something about how a sunrise would be symbolic of our relationship beginning anew. Or something poetic to that effect.”
“That’s nice. But what if we say that the sunset represents the close of this day, a day which has been great but also somewhat stressful. But when the sun goes to sleep, the moon wakes up. That means we have the whole night. And in the morning, when the moon goes to sleep and the sun wakes up again, we’ll have a brand new day, a metaphor for a fresh start. And I….”
I can’t bring myself to say it.
I know I should; I need to reassure him; I need to reassure myself.
“You what?”
I’m mute.
Kellan grins at me. “Do you want me to get the radio and the trench coat and play Peter Gabriel?”
It’s his way of telling me, once again, that I can say anything to him.
God, I love him so. The feeling encourages me. “What I was going to say is that…I promise—I promise—I will never say anything like that to you ever again. It was–”
Kellan kisses me. He kisses me to shut me up.
He pulls back finally and says, “I know. You don’t have to say it. Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? It’s in the past now. We talked about it, we both understand what happened and why, we’ve learned from it, we’ve grown closer because of it, which makes it a good thing in a way, but we don’t need to relive it. And it’s crucial to our future that you don’t berate yourself over it, okay?”
Kellan is right.
Yet berate myself is exactly what I will do. Perhaps not now, standing here on the beach with him, with our feet in the soft, wet sand. But at some point down the road I’m going to
look at myself in the mirror and a torrent of mean things will spill forth from inside me, covering me in hate and self-loathing.
“Claire Valentine, do you hear me?”
Kellan is grinning, waiting.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I won’t berate myself.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Kellan smiles. “I know you will anyway. But when it starts, get down and do ten push-ups. Okay?”
“What does doing ten push-ups do?”
“It shifts your energy, gets you out of your head and back in your body, and stops you from thinking so much. That’s one of the reasons I fell in love with bodybuilding. It wasn’t just about getting big muscles. It was the process. When I’m lifting and I’m in the middle of a workout or in the middle of a set, I’m focused. I don’t have room in my brain for any outside stuff. It’s actually a form of therapy. It makes me feel good. Which is why I do it so much.”
“I know what you mean.” And I realize I truly do. All those training sessions with Kellan were some of the most fun I’ve ever had. Sure, it was because I was with him, a gorgeous, hunky guy who was interested in me romantically. But it was also because of what Kellan just said: there was no time to think about any drama or problems or issues with my mom or Denise or whatever. We were focused on training, and only on training. “I enjoy training, too. It makes me happy. You make me happy.”
“You make me happy, too.”
Kellan encircles me in his big, strong, muscular arms. He wraps me up. His body is so warm.
“Want to go up to the room?” he asks.
“Yes.”
KELLAN AND I don’t take our eyes off one other as we undress.
When he pulls his pants and underwear off, he’s erect.
And big.
Wow.
I feared I’d never see THAT again.
He runs the shower for us and we step into the hot water.
We stand that way, holding each other, for a long time.
It’s the happiest I’ve been since before he went to North Carolina.
His erect penis pressing against my stomach makes me happy, too.
After a while, I can no longer resist. I grab the cute little bottle of complimentary body wash and squirt some into my hands. I proceed to wash Kellan all over. His chest, his arms, his ridiculous washboard abs I want to bite like a vampire. His underarms. I kneel down and wash his legs and feet. I stand and tell him to turn around. I wash his back. And his perfect, round butt. I take my time there. I’ve deliberately avoided his erection and balls because I want to make him wait. I decide to make him wait even longer while I squeeze and caress and massage his glutes. I spread them apart and slide my soapy, slippery fingers all around his opening. I want him nice and clean. I have plans for his perfect ass. They may not come to fruition this evening, or maybe this trip, but they will.
As I wash his behind, Kellan leans forward and rests his forehead against the black granite wall of the shower. He exhales loudly a few times, relaxing under my slippery ministrations. He stick his butt out, giving it to me. He did say I could do anything I wanted to him. I could fist him. I don’t even really know what that means, beyond the obvious. I’ve never done it and don’t know that I ever will or if I even want to. But it’s nice that he trusts me.
To that end, I gently slide my slippery middle finger inside him.
It’s tight. But very soft.
He gasps and moans at the same time. I hear surprise but also ecstasy and longing. I slide my finger out, then back in again, deeper. Then around in little circles.
Kellan moans loudly.
I reach around to feel his penis. It’s hard as a rock.
I turn him sideways so I can stroke him and cleanse his anus as the same time. My soapy hand begins on his scrotum and balls. They’re huge. I almost don’t remember them being so big. I love it.
I slide my hand slowly up to the base of his thick erection. I squeeze and pull, biding my time until I work my way up the shaft to the head. I know that’s what he’s waiting for.
I am, too.
But I take my time, savoring every moment of this, enjoying it more by knowing it almost never was.
I push my middle finger deeper inside him.
Kellan gasps and his erection flexes. His anus squeezes my finger. Pretty hard, too. Wow. I’m learning his body. Every private, intimate nook and cranny. It’s so hot.
Kellan plunges his tongue into my mouth.
It’s all I can do to continue stimulating him while I return his kiss.
He pulls away, grabs the little bottle of body wash, squirts some on his hands, and begins washing me.
But he goes straight for my vagina and my anus. One hand slides up and down my front while his other hand circles around my rear. He starts working my clit quickly. My breath hitches as the pleasure overwhelms me. A finger glides up my bottom; my stomach and belly and groin and places I never knew I had fill with ecstasy and longing. A finger glides up into my vagina while his thumb works my clit and his other finger slips in and out of my anus.
I’m not sure if I’m still stimulating or stroking him. My eyes are half closed, my mouth is half open, and I’m staring blankly at the muscles of his broad, flat chest.
Then he suddenly stops.
I’m left standing there, halfway to orgasm, nearly overcome with need.
“Let’s wash the rest of you.” Kellan grabs the detachable shower head. He smears body wash all over my body, spending extra time on my breasts and nipples. He washes my armpits, something no one besides me has ever done. It’s intimate. I’m a bit self-conscious, but I find that I enjoy it very much.
Kellan kneels before me and washes my thighs and calves and feet. One at a time he has me lift a foot so he can massage it with the body wash. He does a good job and it overwhelms me with relaxation. I plop down on the granite seat I didn’t even realize was there. I lean back, against the wall. The granite is cold against my skin but I ignore it.
“Here.” Kellan hands me the shower head and I let the hot water run over my shoulders, warming my back as it’s pressed against the cold wall. I love it when he anticipates my needs. It’s almost spooky.
He spends several minutes on my feet, massaging each one quite thoroughly. It’s heaven. I do believe it is my first foot massage ever. Sad but true. But what a way to break in.
Once he has my entire body lathered, he uses the shower head to rinse me. He then quickly rinses himself, shuts off the water, and we step out into the palatial bathroom. He grabs two big white fluffy towels. He wraps one around his waist, which is interesting considering his penis is still hard; it creates a peak through the towel. As he towels me dry with gentle pats and wipes, I have an urge to reach out and grab him through the towel.
So I do.
Kellan smiles but continues drying me.
I need to up my game. I hook my fingers into his towel and pretty much rip it off of him and toss it on the floor.
I want him naked. I like him naked. “That’s better.”
His penis goes from pointing at the floor to pointing at me. I actually watch it get hard.
Kellan kneels before me and dries my legs and feet. I nearly swoon again when he caresses each foot with the soft towel. I may have a newfound thing for foot rubs.
When Kellan stands up, his penis is even more upright.
I’ve always liked penises and the male anatomy in general, and have always enjoyed what little interaction I’ve had with it.
But seeing Kellan is different.
I want it.
I want him.
In ways and in places I’ve never thought of before. New modes of pure carnality. He said I could do anything I wanted to him. I realize now that he can do the same to me.
“I think you’re dry,” he says. He dabs a few more drops of water from his shoulders and dries his armpits and buttocks one more time.
“Am I?”
I start touching myself. When I think about you, I touch myself…I can’t believe I actually got up and sang that song. But it’s true. I decide to give Kellan a little show by pleasuring myself as I drink him in with my eyes. I could sit and look at him and masturbate for hours. I've never really been into watching porn, but maybe this is why guys like it. This is how they feel; frickin HORNY.
Kellan hangs the towel on the rack and looks at me. I’m half sitting, half prone on the bathroom counter, fingering myself a bit more fervently that I had planned to. But I can’t help it; I love looking at him and I’m touching myself the way I always do when I’m alone. I think I hear Coldplay coming from the other room, emanating from hidden speakers. I’m going to find those speakers before we leave here.
Kellan grabs his erection with one hand and begins stroking it.
Two can play at this game, I see.
Kellan stands before me, a few feet away. He may as well be a Greek sculpture. Maybe Perseus. Or Hercules. One hand strokes his erection while the other hand pulls on his scrotum. I make note of his technique.
His eyes range over my body. His mouth his open. His chest rises and falls steadily. His respiration is increasing. He’s really getting turned on. He stops stroking himself and slides his hands up and down his abs a few times. He pinches his nipples. I make note of that, too. He resumes stroking his cock. It’s so big. Seen from underneath, it looks even bigger.
I realize I’m about to come.
I decide to go for it. I want Kellan to see me do it. I slide the pad of my middle finger quickly up and down my engorged clitoris, trying to be patient, trying to time it perfectly, delaying as long as I can, so it’s a powerful orgasm. I want Kellan to get the full monty, whatever that means; something British with naked men. It’s always cloudy in Britain. Isn’t it? But surely they have sunny days, too. Or is that why they’re always popping off to the south of France for a bit of a holiday?
Focus, Claire.
I haven’t touched myself or had an orgasm since before Kellan left for his trip, so I’ve got a lot of sexual energy built up.
And then it happens. I time it perfectly. “I’m going to come…” I manage to say, halfway between a moan and a grunt in a voice I scarcely recognize.
The orgasm seizes me and doesn’t let go.
Everything flexes and tightens and I can’t breathe. My body shudders and quivers. I feel my breasts jiggling. Hopefully it’s sexy.
