by Cathy Glass
‘You’re not well enough, are you?’
‘Let’s put it to the test,’ he said roguishly. He eased off his shorts and then curled her fingers around him, growing firmer under her touch.
She assumed he wanted her to masturbate him as she had done when he’d been too ill and weak before the operation to make love properly. He’d touched her too, although she hadn’t got much pleasure from it. A large part of making love for her was the warmth and weight of his body on hers as they moved together as one. But she appreciated that men were different in their sexual wants and needs, and it had helped restore some of his confidence – his masculinity, he’d said.
‘He may need a bit of encouragement,’ Jacob said, moving her hand to work up and down the shaft of his penis, before reaching out and switching on the lamp.
‘Jacob!’ she said, startled. She blinked into the light.
‘That’s better. I need to see.’
He threw back the duvet so he could watch properly, see her hand on his dick, but the movement was too delicate.
‘Harder. Faster,’ he said, and gripping her hand showed her what to do. How he would have liked to have shoved it in her mouth as the bloke on the film he’d watched on his laptop had done, but he didn’t think she was ready for that, not yet. Not prim Eloise. Next time, he promised himself.
He was big now, he could see how big he was, and getting bigger by the second. Hard, proud and bold as the blood coursed through his veins. He was standing to attention as he hadn’t done for a long while. Watching her hand move up and down was adding to his pleasure. ‘Take off your nightdress,’ he said, tugging at it.
She didn’t and her hand lost some of its firmness. ‘I need to see you,’ he said again urgently. Why didn’t she understand? He tugged harder, yanked at the buttons at the top of her nightdress and they gave way. She gave a small cry, presumably of pleasure. Women liked forceful blokes, didn’t they? He roughly pulled the nightdress from her and rubbed his hand over her breasts and then down between her legs, making her cry out again.
‘Sit on me,’ he demanded, tweaking her nipple. ‘It’s the only way I can have you.’ While this was true, more importantly it was part of the image he’d nurtured all afternoon, having downloaded it from the internet. The very thought of the picture fuelled his pleasure.
‘Sit on me,’ he said again, pushing her body down the bed and towards his crotch.
She was hesitant to begin with, resisting a little. Playing hard to get. But with another firm push she did as she was told and sat astride him, knees bent. She was clearly reluctant to open her legs really wide and display herself to him as he would be able to see everything, and with her legs as they were, he struggled to get himself in. Taking hold of her knees, he forced her legs wide apart, as wide as they would go, and then with one good hard shove he was in. She cried out again and so did he. It was fucking ecstasy! He looked at his dick fully inserted in her opening and at her breasts with their large reddening nipples. Grabbing her hips, he moved her up and down to show her what to do as he began thrusting, as much as he was able to with the mattress below and his chest muscles complaining. But each thrust was sheer pleasure and as she grew moister it became easier. His pleasure raged and he could feel his new heart beating wildly, faster than it had before. Briefly he wondered if it would stand the strain; they were really pushing it now, testing it to the limit. But he felt his heart was on his side and willing him to succeed and if he didn’t, what a way to go!
Up and down, up and down, the usually conservative Eloise glued to his dick like a stuck pig. Was she enjoying it? He couldn’t tell and he didn’t know or care. If she wasn’t she’d just have to put up with it, for she was staying there until he’d finished, for sure. He needed this, his heart did, and as he couldn’t lie on her, or she him, she’d have to stay astride him, riding on his dick. He grabbed her nipples and began twisting them, hard. She cried out and tried to push his hands away but he held on tight; he was past the point of no return. He watched her face contort as he pulled and twisted and thrust as hard as he could, harder than he’d ever done before in his life. The gradual build-up to the moment, the absolute height of pleasure, and then stillness as he discharged into her.
‘Jesus! Fucking Jesus!’ he cried out. And in the room next door his father woke, convinced he’d just heard the devil.
Chapter Ten
‘Good to have you back,’ Eva said as she and Rosie took their places at the cashier’s counter of the high street bank. ‘I’ve missed having you here.’
‘Thanks.’ Rosie smiled. ‘It’s good to be here again. I hope I can still remember what to do.’
‘You’ll be fine. Nothing’s changed. Are you free for a quick coffee after work? I’ve got some news I’m dying to tell you.’
Rosie hesitated and then realized she didn’t have to go straight home any longer. ‘Yes. I’d like that.’
‘Great. We’ll chat later. Here we go, ready for the onslaught.’
It was exactly 9 a.m. and the deputy manager was unlocking the main door ready for business. A small queue had already formed outside and as soon as the door opened it quickly dispersed itself at the counter of cashiers. Rosie smiled and said a bright good morning to her first customer. She was pleased to be back at work – another step towards normality. She’d taken two weeks off after Shane’s accident. She was due some annual leave and she’d told her boss that she needed it for personal reasons. As well as clearing out his belongings, she needed time to recover and come to terms with what had happened – and hopefully move on. Her mother had suggested she stay with her for a while but Rosie felt she needed to stand alone to prove to herself that she could, that Shane no longer had a hold over her and she wasn’t afraid of him any more.
While Shane had been in the hospital, she’d sent him a letter saying that if he ever came near her again she’d call the police. That night, Rosie had called out the local locksmith and had the locks on her flat changed, so that if upon his recovery Shane did try to visit, he’d find himself unable to enter. Once the job had been done she’d felt an overwhelming sense of relief. At last, her flat was safe. Now all that remained of Shane was in her head and she knew it would take time before he left her completely, if he ever did. She was trying hard not to think about him, to shake off the moments of panic that gripped her when she thought about him coming out of hospital, perhaps angrier than before. She’d told her mother a little of what had happened but not all. Some things – the sexual things he’d done to her – she couldn’t say. She’d found it a little easier to share this with a group for survivors of domestic violence she’d joined online. The anonymity helped and of course they were on the same page as her, having experienced similar or worse. There were two men in the group, which surprised her; she’d never thought that some women could be as evil as men. But while the group had helped, ultimately she knew her full recovery would be down to her. Clearing out the flat and going back to work was the next step.
Mondays were always busy at the bank and the time flew by. As she dealt with each customer’s request or inquiry her confidence grew, and by lunchtime she was starting to relax. Eva was on a different lunch break to her so she went out for a short walk and a breath of fresh air before returning to the staff room to eat her sandwiches and make a cup of tea. Other colleagues who didn’t know her as well as Eva were there and they asked her if she’d had a nice holiday and seemed pleased to see her back. Their kindness touched her. It was a pity she hadn’t been able to confide in anyone and ask for help when she’d needed it. She still felt responsible for letting Shane into her life and allowing the abuse to continue, although the online survivors group tried to reassure her it wasn’t her fault.
At 4.30 the deputy bank manger locked the door, and they cashed up, shut down their terminals and packed away for the night. An hour later, she and Eva called goodbye to their colleagues and left the building. The coffee shop was a short walk up the High Street and they settled with
their drinks either side of a corner table where they could talk without being overheard.
‘Rosie, I’m pregnant,’ Eva announced with a huge smile as soon as they sat down. ‘I did two tests at the weekend and they were both positive.’
‘Oh Eva, that’s fantastic,’ Rosie said. ‘Congratulations! I’m so pleased for you both.’ And she was genuinely pleased. She knew that Eva and her husband, Syed, had been trying for over a year for a baby.
‘Promise you won’t tell anyone at the bank yet,’ Eva said. ‘I’m going to wait until I’m three months.’
‘I promise,’ Rosie said.
Eva shared her plans – to take a year’s maternity leave and then return to the bank part time as they needed her income to pay their mortgage. Then her attention turned to Rosie. ‘But enough about me. How are you? Do you want to tell me what the personal reasons were that suddenly made you take time off? You know it won’t go any further.’
Rosie looked carefully at her friend. How easy it would be to tell her the truth but then she’d have to live with her shock and sympathy and she didn’t want that. She was trying to move on.
‘The guy I was seeing had an accident – wrote my car off.’ She paused. ‘We’re – we’re not together any more, so there’s been a lot going on in my life. It was all getting on top of me. I just needed a break.’ She shrugged, trying to be casual, and took a sip of her coffee.
‘OK. I can understand that. So he’s out of your life for good?’
‘Yes, completely.’
‘A carefree singleton. Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that!’ Eva laughed.
‘I’m in no rush to start another relationship now,’ Rosie said. ‘So how are you feeling?’ She was anxious to steer the conversation back to safer ground. ‘No morning sickness?’
‘No, not yet, but I won’t mind if I am sick. I mean it’s all part of being pregnant and will be worth it in the end.’
‘Absolutely,’ Rosie agreed, and they continued talking about Eva’s pregnancy.
Once they’d finished their coffee, Eva said she’d better go as Syed would be home soon and she wanted to have dinner ready. They left the coffee shop together and then went their separate ways. Rosie was returning to an empty flat but she didn’t mind, not at all, for empty was far better than having Shane waiting for her. She’d started to relax again in the flat; she could watch some television, listen to her music, then go to bed without being in constant fear. Every night, she went through a little ritual of checking the doors and windows were locked and that there were no shadowy shapes lurking in the street. But every night, she saw nothing. It looked like Shane was leaving her alone. And once she’d saved up enough she’d buy herself another car.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth had telephoned Eloise on Sunday to see how she was, but her call had gone through to voicemail so she’d assumed the poor girl was still ill in bed. She’d left a message saying she hoped Eloise felt better soon. She waited until midday on Thursday before trying again; she knew how irritating it was to keep having to answer the phone if you weren’t feeling well. This time Eloise did answer.
‘Hello, Elizabeth,’ she said quietly.
‘Hello, love. How are you? Feeling a bit better?’
There was a pause before she replied. ‘Did Jacob tell you I was ill?’
‘Yes of course, love. When Andrew and I returned on Saturday and found you’d gone we were obviously concerned. How are you feeling now?’
Another pause. ‘Better, thank you.’
‘Good. What was it? The flu? Jacob didn’t seem to know.’
‘I’m not sure. But I’m all right now.’ Her voice sounded flat.
Elizabeth hesitated. ‘Are you really all right? You sound a little … I don’t know … a little subdued,’ she said, for want of a better word.
‘Yes. I’m all right.’
‘Well, that’s good. It was fantastic news about Jacob’s test results, wasn’t it? He hates those biopsies but it’s so reassuring to know there’s no sign of rejection.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, Elizabeth, I have to go. I’m on playground lunch duty.’
‘Oh, OK. I’m pleased you’re feeling better. See you at the weekend then. Will you be coming Friday night or Saturday?’
‘I’m not sure yet.’
‘Don’t worry. Come as soon as you can. We’re all looking forward to seeing you.’
‘Thank you,’ Eloise said a little stiffly. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye, love.’
Elizabeth slowly set down her phone on the table in front of her, not sure what to make of their conversation. Eloise hadn’t sounded herself, she’d seemed distant and restrained, as if she was hiding something. One of the characteristics Elizabeth had always liked about Eloise was her bubbly personality. She had a zest and enthusiasm for life which Jacob had had too before he’d fallen ill. It took a lot to get Eloise down. Perhaps she and Jacob had had an argument. Maybe about her leaving early? He was so insensitive and tetchy at present that if the poor girl had said she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home, he could easily have thrown a strop. Elizabeth could picture it only too clearly and if that was the case then he needed to apologize. She and Andrew were having to make allowances for him continuously and think carefully before they spoke.
Elizabeth thought hard; another possibility for Eloise’s mother was that she’d just found out Eloise was pregnant. But no, she dismissed that straightaway. Jacob had been in hospital for the last month and before that he’d have been too weak. She assumed they were having a physical relationship, as young people did nowadays before marriage, but because of his illness he hadn’t been well enough. Yet something was bothering Eloise.
Elizabeth ruminated on it for the next half-hour and when she called Jacob down for lunch she said, ‘I’m not prying, love, but is everything all right between you and Eloise?’
‘Yes of course,’ he said, immediately on the defensive. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I phoned her a little while ago to see how she was and she didn’t seem like her usual self.’
‘I told you, she’s ill,’ he said, irritated.
‘She was back at work. She said she was on lunch duty when I called.’
‘So?’ he demanded.
‘I’m just concerned, that’s all. She’s a sensitive girl, and all of this can’t have been easy for her.’
‘And it’s easy for me?’ he shot back.
‘No, love. Of course not.’ She knew she wasn’t handling this right, but it was so difficult to talk to him at present. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything at all. ‘I’m just concerned for you both.’
‘Well, don’t be!’ he snapped. His face was set as he glared at her. ‘What goes on between Eloise and me has nothing to do with you or Dad. You both need to keep the fuck out of my life. Understood?’ Grabbing his plate of food from the table, he stormed upstairs.
‘Jacob?’ she called after him. But his bedroom door slammed shut and then there was silence.
Elizabeth remained where she was, her mouth dry and her pulse beating wildly, shocked to the core by what had just happened and at a loss to know what to do. It wasn’t the first time he’d sworn since coming home but she’d never felt threatened by him before. The way his face had contorted with anger. The look in his eyes as he glared at her, the tone in his voice; she had seen and felt pure hatred in her son! The aftercare notes from the hospital had said transplant patients could become frustrated by their long recovery but this was more than frustration. Much more. She and Andrew couldn’t do anything right and the way he treated them suggested he loathed and detested them. But why? Then she caught herself. Of course he didn’t detest them. He was recovering from a major life-changing operation, and it didn’t get more serious than a heart transplant. He was also having to take a vast array of pills which, though necessary, all came with possible side effects. With small relief Elizabeth acknowledged that it was quite likely his medication was resp
onsible for his mood swings and aggression. She’d check the list. If it was the medication then presumably something could be done about it. The surgeon had mentioned that if the side effects of any of his drugs became too unpleasant then they could try him on another brand.
Mitsy ventured out from under the table and Elizabeth stroked her head. ‘We’re just going to have to be patient,’ she told her. ‘It’s bound to take time.’ The dog looked up questioningly. Since Jacob had returned from hospital he’d hardly had anything to do with her; she’d stopped vying for his attention, and now kept out of his way. ‘It’s bound to take time,’ Elizabeth repeated, as much for her own benefit as the dog’s.
‘No Eloise?’ Andrew asked when he returned from visiting a parishioner on Friday evening.
‘Apparently not,’ Jacob said sarcastically, glancing at her empty chair at the table.
Elizabeth saw her husband take a breath. She knew he was about to reprimand Jacob and quickly stepped in. ‘She’s coming tomorrow morning,’ she said. ‘Your dinner’s ready.’
Andrew nodded and went upstairs to wash and change before eating, avoiding looking at his son. He’d been later than he expected so Elizabeth and Jacob had started dinner without him. When he returned Elizabeth pinged his plated meal in the microwave. Jacob gobbled down the last of his food and, as his father sat down, left to go to his room.
‘What have I done now?’ Andrew sighed. ‘I’ve just come in.’
‘You haven’t done anything,’ Elizabeth said, setting his plate in front of him. ‘You know how he is at present.’
‘I’m not sure I do any longer.’
She joined him at the table but didn’t resume eating until he’d said grace. ‘How was Mr Tilney?’ she asked. Andrew picked up his knife and fork.
‘Comfortable. His family are with him.’ He paused. ‘You’re definitely going to ask about adjusting Jacob’s medication at his next appointment?’
‘Yes. Monday,’ Elizabeth confirmed. She smiled encouragingly, although she’d checked the list of possible side effects and the most serious had been the increased risk of infection from the immunosuppressants. Nausea, vomiting and hair loss were mentioned, but nothing about mood swings or sudden anger.
