“Maybe we could, we just don’t know how. I’ve never been one to really use Facebook that way.”
“Me either.”
Stumped, the two stared at the screen.
Then, Kimberly had an idea. “The person you sent the email address too. Do you think he could find all the Emily’s in the DeKalb area and send us links so we can check out their profiles?” Truth was, she didn’t really know what could be gained from seeing the profiles, but figured it might be nice to have a picture of her if possible.
“I can always ask. He might say no though since it does sound a bit like something a stalker would do.”
“Even if you explained it to him?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, I can ask, but that’s about it. If I knew him personally I’d be a bit more optimistic, but . . .” he left it at that.
“What about the police? Should I call them and tell them about all this and what we suspect?”
“It couldn’t hurt, but I don’t think they will be able to do much with it since we don’t really have anything actually pointing at this Emily Moore as being responsible. Plus . . .” he didn’t continue.
“Plus what?” she asked.
“I was going to say they might come after me for doing what I did with the blog, but in reality I don’t think there is anything they can do. I didn’t break any laws and certainly didn’t instigate the murder.”
Despite his statement, she could still sense a bit of worry present in his voice. Had she done what he had done, she would be worried too. In this day and age there was no telling what the law could do to a person who did what he had done, especially if the media got hold of it and turned it into a moral issue.
14
Amy actually had an orgasm from the sex, which she hadn’t been expecting. It was a powerful one too, one that made her cry out in ecstasy as all the muscles within tightened into a nearly unbearable squeeze and then released itself.
Of course, Mark had very little to do with this. Sure, his penis was there and it filled her nicely (he wasn’t lying online when he said he was big), but it might as well have been a dildo that she had strapped to the bed beneath her for all the skill he displayed. Instead, the orgasm was mostly brought about by her mind as she replayed a wonderful moment from her past, one that involved her and a college professor she had loved. The wonderful friction she was creating inside herself by thrusting her hips up and down upon his erection helped as well.
“Oh, Jesus,” she said once the orgasm had finished, her body collapsing down upon his so that her head rested on his chest. “Wow.”
“Did . . . did you just cum?”
The question, and the innocence within it, caused her to laugh against his bare flesh. “I did.” She then realized something, his penis, which was still inside her, had remained firm. “Did you?”
“Um, no, not yet,” he admitted.
“Really?” After all that? Most virgins, and she was sure he was one, would have exploded just from her lips being on them, which was why she had only sucked on him for a little while as a sort of tease before the main event. After that, she had just assumed he would cum quickly once she unrolled the condom onto him and slipped the covered organ inside herself.
“I was holding back waiting for you.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “How sweet.” In her mind she said, bullshit. Men couldn’t hold back like that. It just wasn’t possible. She had been taught this at a young age just so she would never fall for the ‘I will pull out in time’ claim that all men made, a claim that had resulted in her being born.
Frustration was present as well, but she hid it as she began to rock her hips back and forth once again, her movements slow due to her own exhaustion.
“You like that?” she asked.
“Uh-huh,” he muttered.
“Are you close to coming?”
“I think so.”
What? You think? How was that even possible? “And when I do this?” She reached down with her right hand and grabbed the base of his penis while still rocking her hips.
“Oooo,” he moaned.
She took that as a good sign and then, in hopes of having another orgasm herself, started thinking about her professor and all the wonderful moments they had shared together last year. Sadness and anger came with the thoughts, but didn’t dampen the pleasure she felt. Instead, the emotions seemed to enhance everything, almost as if --
“Ahh,” she gasped as pain shot through her breast.
Surprised, Mark pulled his hand away from the boob he had grabbed, a look of horror and embarrassment appearing on his face. “Sorry, I just thought – “
“Shhh,” she interrupted, putting a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. I tripped coming out of the shower the other day and crashed into the sink.” She slipped her shirt off to reveal the bruise he had grabbed. “See? I should have said something, but thought you might find it a turnoff.”
“Oh, no, I don’t,” he said while lightly touching the battered flesh.
Amy shivered, which startled him, the slight buck of his body actually feeling good since it forced his penis to pull forward a bit.
“Do that again,” she moaned, her own body still rocking back and forth on top of him.
“What?” he asked.
“Pull it forward like that again.”
Puzzled, he just stared at her, then understanding seemed to arrive and he said, “Like this?”
“Ohhhh, God, YES!” she cried.
He grinned.
Down below his penis kept making a pulling forward motion, the head pushing right into that ultra sensitive circle of nerves that some liked to call the G spot every time. This, coupled with the fingers of her right hand rubbing her own clit, caused an explosive orgasm, her cry echoing throughout the house.
“Wow,” was all she could say while rolling off him, her body too weary to do anything else at that moment.
They were not finished though, her eyes easily able to see that the condom was still nice and tight against his firm erection.
“Do you always last this long?” she asked, lungs struggling to find enough air to create the necessary words.
“I – I – um, sometimes,” he said.
“Well,” she just took a deep breath. “We’ll just have to keep going then, only this time you take charge.”
“Oh, um, what do you mean?”
She laughed and shook her head. “I mean get on top and fuck me.”
“Oh, okay.” He shifted around and rolled over, his movements awkward.
Once he was in position, she opened her legs for him. To her surprise, however, he didn’t thrust himself inside right away. Instead, he leaned his face forward and started probing her with his tongue and fingers.
“What’re . . . ooooo!”
For someone who probably had never laid a girl before, he somehow knew what he was doing with his fingers and tongue and managed to pull forth a third orgasm from her.
“You like that?” he asked. Unlike his previous statements there didn’t seem to be any hesitation in his voice.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“And how about this?” he demanded while sliding his penis into her.
“YES!”
He grinned and started moving his hips. At first, the thrusts were awkward, but then, as his body got used to the unusual movements, he seemed to find a rhythm that worked. An aggressive side also appeared, one that saw him grabbing hold of her hips and lifting them so that he could thrust from his knees rather than while laying on top.
Knowing he might grow tired quickly while in this position, and fearing it might end too quickly, she clasped her hands beneath her butt and helped keep herself lifted.
His thrusts grew more forceful, each one punctuated by the lifting motion of his penis, which, while enjoyable, was torturous given the amount of pleasure that had already been pulled from her.
And then it happened, her mind knowing it was coming due to the sounds he was suddenly making
and that added pressure she felt within as his own muscles clenched.
“Oh yes,” she cried. “Give it to me! YES! YES!”
A serious groan escaped him followed by a heavy grunt and a long sigh.
During this, she felt warmth through the condom and, though it might have been her imagination, thought she could feel each spurt as more fluid erupted from him.
“Ohh,” he gasped and gave one final thrust. “Yeah.”
He then slowly pulled out of her, the gentle withdrawal causing a subtle pleasure as each nerve seemed to send one final signal of ecstasy racing to the brain.
“Oh, wow,” she said while looking at the condom, cum visible within. So much had been ejaculated that it had actually dribbled out beneath the bottom ring. “I don’t think I have to ask this time.”
“Not this time,” he agreed. His hand then moved toward the base of his penis, fingers ready to pull it free. “Um, what should I – “
“Here, let me get that for you,” she said and shifted herself so that she was between his legs. “There we go,” as it slipped free, “and – “ she leaned in and put her mouth on his penis and sucked as hard as she could, the salty flavor instantly assaulting her taste buds.
“Ahhhh,” he cried and tried to pull out, his nerve ending obviously too sensitive for any contact.
“Yum, yum,” she said once her hold was broken. “Didn’t want you feeling all sticky.” She grinned. “Be right back.”
“Oh . . . kay.”
With that she got up from the bed and headed into her bathroom where she took a much needed pee while her hands tied a knot in the condom, and then hurried out into the kitchen. “Want some water or a soda?” she asked.
“Oh, sure,” he called back. “Soda’s good.”
“Okay.” She grabbed two Cokes and walked back to the bed where Mark was sitting up, naked body on full display.
“You can get under the covers if you like,” she said and handed him the soda. “That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Oh, I wasn’t sure if that was okay without first – “
“Shhh,” she said and motioned for him to lift himself so she could pull back the sheets, his movements awkward due to his nakedness.
Once settled she crawled in as well, took several sips of soda, and then snuggled up against him, her body savoring the comfort the intimate position provided. In return he put his arms around her, his muscles pulling her close with a gentle firmness that she loved. It had been a long time since she had been in such a position with anyone -- a long time since the nights when she and her former professor would curl up together after a night of strenuous lovemaking.
15
A terrible sense of boredom arrived once Bill was back in his own place, one that could not be broken by his normal everyday activities. The fact that he hadn’t written anything of note for a while made it even worse, especially when in view of his laptop sitting upon his desk. Attempting to add pages to his latest novel would be fruitless, however, so he wouldn’t even try it. Some writers could sit down and produce words no matter the time and location. He couldn’t. If he didn’t start writing during the early morning hours, fingers typing before the sun crested the horizon, a cup of fresh coffee at his side, then he didn’t get any writing done that day. The only exception to this was his blog posts. He could pen those without much trouble, just as long as he actually sat down to do it and wasn’t facing a moment of mental exhaustion.
And just as long as you had a topic to write about, he said to himself.
Nothing within his head seemed interesting enough to share with the visitors to his blog, though. In fact, nothing but the events concerning Emily and her parents could hold his attention for long. It was all so surreal. Unbelievable too. If someone had warned him a year ago that he should hold off on trying to get men to sign up for the Adult Friend Finder dating site because it would one day lead to a girl in the apartment below him being threatened by the daughter of a man who was killed by his estranged wife, he wouldn’t even have known what to say. Yet here he was now living that situation.
And if given the chance, I wouldn’t change what I did.
Admitting this to Kimberly, or anyone else that asked, wouldn’t be good, and therefore was something he would lie about. When talking with himself, though, he couldn’t deny it. He also wasn’t ashamed of it. How could he be when the money had been like a life raft in a storm? Without it he and Toby would not have been able to stay in the apartment, which meant . . . well, he didn’t even like to contemplate what the consequences of that would have been.
His lack of shame didn’t equal a lack of feeling somewhat responsible for what had happened, though, but not in a ‘You’re to blame for this’ kind of way. Mrs. Moore had made a choice to kill her husband, thus the responsibility for that act rested with her. His responsibility lay within the realm of knowing he had created a situation that had helped push a crazy lady over the edge. For this he was sorry, and wished it hadn’t happened. At the same time he knew that if not for his actions, something else would have probably produced the spark that eventually led to the same outcome. That was the trouble with crazy people.
And she passed it down to her daughter.
Or did she?
Though slim, doubt about the identity of the harasser was still present so he couldn’t say for sure that the daughter was to blame. It did feel right, though. Laying out that possibility with Kimberly earlier had produced a ‘click’ within his mind that he could not ignore. He had a feeling Kimberly felt the same way. If he wasn’t mistaken, there had also been a change in her ever since they had realized the perpetrator was female, yet he couldn’t pinpoint what that change had been exactly. It was there though.
Downstairs the sound of the kitchen door slamming shut echoed, the needlessly tight hinges always producing a crack when released.
Bill went to the window and watched as Kimberly went into the garage and then, after a minute, drove away. He had no idea where she was going, and for a moment felt an odd sense of rejection that she hadn’t asked him to tag along.
Don’t be silly, he scolded himself.
The inner comment should have put the feeling of rejection out of his mind, yet it didn’t. Knowing it was ridiculous made it worse too, because it brought about a sense of foolishness that he couldn’t shake.
You’re falling for her.
Normally such a realization wouldn’t have been a problem, but this time around it was because he had a feeling she would not see him as the type she would want a relationship with.
What was strange was that for several years now he hadn’t wanted a relationship with anyone and would quickly sever ties if one began to loom. Sex, yes, he always craved that, but relationships, no. That was why his partnership with Nicole had been so wonderful. When sex was a part of a business deal it didn’t create that awkwardness of having to enjoy each other’s company when not taking part in the physical act. Now, however, he found himself not just enjoying the time spent in the company of Kimberly, but craving more. It was weird. Just sitting downstairs with her had been nice and something he could have spent all day doing. Driving to the motel had been fun too, despite the situation requiring it.
And now, sitting here, you’re obsessing over her rather than focusing on other things that could be more productive.
I can’t help it.
It kind of reminded him of the feelings he had experienced after a nasty breakup several years ago, one that had put an end to what he had felt was a perfect relationship -- though one that looking back upon he knew was far from it. During that time he had not been able to stop thinking about what he had lost and wondering how he would ever move on with his life. Nothing he could do would shake the thoughts of her from his mind. Now, the same thing was happening, only from the opposite side of the spectrum. Because of this sadness was not a constant companion.
But it might be soon if you push too hard and she ends up wanting nothing to do with you.
This, coupled with the fear that the only reason Kimberly was even spending time with him was because of his connection with the situation, brought about an unwanted worry that he could not shake.
You’re being pathetic, he said to himself.
No rebuttal followed. How could one when every ounce of his being knew the statement to be true?
16
Is it possible to think about nothing? Two years earlier a philosophy instructor had asked this question of Mark’s class, which, of course, was an attempt to spark a discussion on the concept of nothing. It also had been an introduction of sorts to what the class would be like given that it had been the first day, though of all the discussions and debates that had followed throughout the semester; this was the only one he really remembered.
You were thinking about ‘nothing’ but now you’re not, he said to himself, his mind having been completely blank for an unrecognizable amount of time following the sex. At one point he might have even lost consciousness, though not in an ‘I’m asleep now’ way. Instead, it had been as if his mind had simply shut down for a brief period, its satisfaction with the events that had taken place enough for it to disappear into some unknown region for a while since it knew the body was content and could be left alone. Now, however, it was back and letting him know he needed to use the bathroom. In fact, it was insisting. The only problem was that Amy was completely snuggled up against him, her arms actually having threaded themselves so that she was holding him.
You have no choice.
He had to untangle himself from her grip and get to the toilet. If not, well, the term ‘move it or lose it’ would take on a whole new meaning, the second half probably signifying two future events: losing the fill within his bladder, and losing Amy because she didn’t seem the type that liked to be peed on.
Breaking free of her grip was not easy, especially when not wanting to wake her. He also knew she had that bruise upon her breast and didn’t want to accidentally bump it – a task made difficult given that it was pressing up against him.
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