by Clara James
She began quickly clearing away the things they’d left scattered around the kitchen from their dinner the night before. She opened several cupboards looking for something, until she finally shouted a triumphant, “There you are!” Gripping the handle of a dustpan, she tugged it from its hiding place.
“What are you doing?” Reece blurted, one hand rubbing anxious at his forehead, while he watched her with incredulous eyes.
“Cleaning up,” she tossed back, as though the question was a stupid one. Not bothering to look at him, she sank to her knees by the small dining table and began sweeping up the fragments of glass that had been smashed in their flurry of passion – that all seemed suddenly so long ago she realized.
Inhaling deeply, Reece moved forwards gently grasping her arm and stilling her attempt to clean the floor. “Don’t you think you should be resting?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before he looped his arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet.
“Hey,” she protested, as he moved her with ease. “I can’t leave this here,” she added, still clutching the dustpan and using it to gesture to the red wine that was no doubt staining her kitchen tiles.
“Then I’ll clean up,” Reece responded. “You need to get to bed.”
“I’ve just spent God knows how long in a bed, Reece,” she insisted, trying to push him away, while he continued to hold her. “Would you let go?” she urged.
Reluctantly, Reece relaxed his grip and slowly released her. However, he stayed close, still within reach and ready to stop her if she began to exert herself again. “I’m worried about you,” he admitted quietly.
“Well,” she exhaled, regretting the loss of his warm embrace. Not that it had been an embrace, she reminded herself. He was just preventing her from moving; he hadn’t been hugging her. And yet, she still missed the feeling. “You don’t need to worry,” she eventually added. She didn’t look at him as she said those words, but quickly plastered a smile on her face after they’d been spoken. “It’s just one of those things, right?” she added, with a shrug of bravado. “We’re born; we die.”
“Allie,” Reece mumbled, shaking his head as he struggled to come to terms with everything he’d been told in the last twelve hours. “I really think-”
“You look tired,” she quickly interjected. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but whatever it was, it would be far too painful to hear. “Maybe you ought to head home,” she suggested. “Get some sleep.”
“No,” he replied. “I wanted to talk. I think we should, don’t you?” he challenged, recognizing her avoidance tactic and determined not to let her hide from him or her illness.
Lifting a tired arm, Allie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, before placing the plastic dustpan on the table. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Okay, you’re right.” Nodding, she pointed to the living room behind Reece, silently suggesting that they take a seat on the couch.
Reece responded in kind, not speaking as he moved backwards, keeping his eyes tightly fixed on her, while he stepped aside and allowed her to precede him. As she dolefully padded past him, he regarded her slender frame, which seemed so much more fragile than it had before. He mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner that something was seriously wrong. He followed her closely, but waited until she settled into the couch before taking his seat next to her.
“Okay,” she breathed, awkwardly trying to massage the back of her neck with her right hand. “It might be best if you just forget what I said last night.”
“What do you mean?” Reece responded, his exhausted head snapping around so he could face her fully. “I’m supposed to forget that you’re sick?”
“No,” she countered slowly, bringing her left hand up to lace with her right at the nape of her neck. “Well, you can forget that too if you want,” she quickly added. “But I meant… I meant,” she stumbled. If she said what was on her mind that would be it, past the point of no return; she’d be effectively shutting the door on any kind of relationship with him. But, as she was quick to remind herself, they could never have any kind of relationship anyway. Trying to pretend differently would just be cruel to both of them. “Maybe you should forget that I told you I love you,” she eventually said.
Reece released a humorless scoff. “What are you talking about?”
“This is what I was trying to avoid in the first place,” she mumbled, leaning forward and resting a tense head in anxious fingers. “I didn’t want hurt anyone, especially not you.” She twisted her face to look at him, but he made no effort to respond. Instead, he waited, watching her as he challenged her to explain. “Reece we can’t just pretend that everything is fine. We can’t drag this out; hoping things will turn out differently, when we both know how it will end.”
“That’s not true,” he argued. “We don’t know how it will end. You should go back to that hospital and start getting treatment.”
“No,” she insisted, shaking her head firmly.
“Yes,” he countered. “The doctor said-”
“I know what the doctor said,” she interrupted. “And I’m not stupid, Reece, I know what radiotherapy will involve, how ill it would make me. I’m not going to put myself through that.”
“So, you’re just giving up?”
Allie opened her mouth to snap something back, but closed it again. This wasn’t getting either of them anywhere. “It’s not like that,” she sighed. “I’ve accepted what’s happening to me, Reece. If there was a good chance of radiotherapy working, I’d take it. But the odds are slim, so I’m not going to spend my last month’s feeling sick, being forced to stay in the hospital and dying there.”
“A slim chance is better than no chance at all,” he blurted defiantly.
“It’s not your decision to make,” she insisted angrily. Suddenly his attitude was annoying her, it spoke more of arrogance than concern. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I care about you, damn it,” he yelled.
“Then why can’t you respect my decision?” she shouted in return.
In a flash of motion, Reece was thrusting himself forwards, his hands snaking around her hips, as his mouth crashed down upon hers. His weight pushed her back onto the couch and her upper half was soon lying beneath his.
Allie fought against him, a muffled, “Get offa me,” cried out and coupled with two fists beating against his chest. However, Reece would not release her. And soon, the hands she had fruitlessly used in her attempts to push him off were wrapped around his back. Her mouth, meanwhile, opened and her tongue darted out to aggressively entwine with his.
Both of them were breathing hard, frantic gasps between slanted open-mouthed kisses. Reece’s hands traced carefully down the shirt at her sides, his fingertips brushing over her in a way that never failed to set her on fire. As he brought them back up, he curled his palms over her cotton-covered breasts, gently cupping her breast that were swaying freely without a bra. Her nipples almost instantly reacted, popping up into the heel of his hand and seeming to beg for more of his touch.
Allie mewled plaintively, the sound of need reverberating in the pit of her stomach. She quickly realized that she liked Reece like this. A demanding, desperate side of him, the same one that had caused the mess in the kitchen. It really turned her on.
“I love you,” he mumbled, freeing his lips from hers.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered, as the swell of his groin began to push against her hip. Instantly, as had always been the way, her body responded to him. Her legs instinctively parted and her pelvis moved rhythmically against him, as her arousal acknowledged the primal call of his. She needed to feel the pressure between her thighs, the satisfying warmth of his body questing for hers. He rolled slightly, slipping his broad thigh between her legs. It wasn’t quite what she’d been hoping for, but the glorious weight of his strong muscle pushing against the swollen, moist lips of her outer sex was close enough. “Ahh,” she cried, her hips bucking, as she tried to stimulate herself further.
&nb
sp; “I love you, Allie,” he repeated, his lips working down her neck. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Those words were like a bucket of cold water thrown over her lust. There was no question, he was going to lose her: sooner or later. She could make it easier on him, or she could make it harder. “Stop,” she gasped, once again shoving at his broad shoulders. “Stop.”
Instantly, he lifted his head. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, panicked by the sudden tension he felt in her body.
The question was almost laughable to Allie. It ran through her head to say, ‘no, but I’m going to hurt you’. “Reece, we have to talk,” was what actually came from her mouth. “We really can’t do this,” she announced, her voice shaking.
Slowly, he released a deep breath and eased himself away from her, realizing that their position and a growing discomfort in his pants was not conducive to a serious discussion. Closing his eyes, he tried to think unsexy thoughts and, as he pondered what Allie was about to say, found it surprisingly easy to banish the erection in his jeans. “Why not?” he eventually asked, fixing her with his bright blue eyes.
“We can’t carry on seeing each other,” she replied, as if it were obvious to her and should have been to him, too. “Listen,” she breathed, as her brain finally landed on a tack that might prove more effective. “I started seeing people,” she placed a quiet emphasis on the word ‘seeing’ to ensure he would understand her meaning, “shortly after I found out about the leukemia. Nothing serious, it was all just about having some fun; making up for lost time.”
His brow crinkled slightly, but he made no comment about the revelation. Allie wondered whether there was disappointment in his face, but all she could clearly define was confusion.
“I sort of promised myself...”she continued, pausing when she found it more difficult than she’d bargained to bare her soul. “I told myself that I wasn’t going to leave this world regretting experiences I’d brushed aside, because, at the time, I had better things to do. Do you know what I’m saying?” she asked, wondering how she’d go about rephrasing it if he said, ‘no’.
“I think so,” he responded, slowly nodding, while he leaned back in the couch. However, he still stared at her as though she were now a totally different person from the one he’d been so sure he knew.
“I know what you probably think of me,” she muttered, guessing by the look on his face that the word ‘slut’ was echoing around his head.
“I don’t think anything,” he quickly insisted. “It’s not for me to judge what you did, Allie. I just...” he added, unable to quite finish his thought. “So, while we were...” he stumbled, gesturing between his chest and hers. “You were seeing other people?”
“No,” she assured him rapidly. “No, I umm...” Allie wasn’t sure whether telling him the truth would make things better or worse. She suspected the latter, but forged ahead. “It was supposed to just be one time with you, but I...” Allie shook her head, banishing the emotions that welled up every time she thought about making love with Reece. “Anyway,” she quickly sighed. “Now that I know that time is even more limited, I really want to make sure I don’t have any regrets.”
Reece’s whole body became rigid. His head snapped around, his eyes deliberately moving away from her and to the floor. “You mean, you want to start seeing other people again?” he demanded, an edge in his question that Allie had only heard very infrequently; Reece was not a man prone to anger. At least, he hadn’t been. Given his fluctuations in temper over the previous few days, she was wondering whether he’d changed, or if she’d just brought something out in him. “Fine,” he said, not waiting for an answer as he leaped to his feet. “You want to go around making up for all the one night stands you didn’t have, go ahead.”
Allie jumped off the couch and opened her mouth to defend herself, but stopped when she realized what was happening was probably kindest for both of them. So, she bit her tongue and watched his tall frame stride across the room. Hating herself for causing him any kind of pain, but realizing that she had no choice. She could only hope that, in a few months time, he’d realize it, too.
When he reached the door, Reece spun on the ball of his feet. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for,” he muttered bitterly, before yanking the door open. He didn’t look back, as he marched across the threshold, turned sharply to his left and disappeared down the hallway.
She slowly wandered to the still open door, but didn’t dare look out into the corridor. Allie knew the sight of him would be enough to crack her shaky resolve. Instead, with tear-blurred eyes, she gently gripped the edge of the door and pushed it closed.
CHAPTER THREE
BACK IN THE GAME
She barely slept that night. Hours were spent simply staring at the ceiling, while she silently argued with herself. Every sensible, logical impulse in her being told her that she had done the right thing. And yet, there was a gnawing sense of loss. It was ridiculous, she told herself, she and Reece had only been back in touch for a few weeks. It was hardly a committed relationship. In fact, they’d both agreed that wasn’t what either of them wanted. The chances were, even if she’d been the picture of health, the fling would have fizzled out on its own. And she certainly didn’t want Reece sticking around out of some misplaced sense of duty. He cared for her, that much was and always had been obvious, and he was a loyal friend. Perhaps his desire to stay wasn’t an undying love he carried for her, as her imagination had begun to allow her to believe, but simple affection for someone who had meant something to him. If that was the case, she’d done him a favor by urging him to leave.
Besides, she mentally added, what she’d said to Reece had been the truth. The whole reason she’d seen him was because she’d started a mission to make up for lost time. Of course, with Reece it had been different. He was the only one of the men from her past with whom she’d had a ‘proper’ relationship. He had also been her first, which she’d known in advance would stir up emotions that were best left buried.
With weary eyes, but a still buzzing brain, Allie wondered whether that was all the last few weeks boiled down to. It wasn’t love, it was just the romantic imaginings of her eighteen- year-old self, set loose by the mere sight and even the smell of Reece.
By six in the morning, the sun was rising and she still hadn’t been able to find the refreshment of sleep. With a frustrated mutter, she pulled the bedclothes off her body and dragged her heavy limbs to the shower. As the thin, steaming hot jets stung her skin and coaxed some small amounts of energy from her exhausted body, she wondered if she should go into work.
Kyle had left her two messages the day before, asking whether she was okay. She’d called in sick, three days previously, when she simply couldn’t be bothered to go into the office. And she suspected Kyle thought her illness was nothing more than sulking over the killing of her story. She couldn’t help but laugh, as she climbed out of the bathtub and reached for a towel. That all seemed so long ago; a lifetime. Something that had seemed so important to her no more than four weeks prior, no longer mattered at all. In fact, nothing much mattered.
With a towel wrapped around her damp body, she drifted back into her bedroom and settled on the edge of the mattress. One thing did still matter, she realized. Seizing the moment, obtaining pleasure. Finding the next thrill, before it was too late. Without conscious thought, Allie laid back on the bed. Her right hand smoothed down over the terry cloth, before dipping between her thighs and gently touching herself.
Her eyes remained wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, as she stroked her fingers over the small patch of wiry hair and then teased open the lips beneath it. Lazily, she rubbed two fingers along the slickness, pausing when she reached the top and her clitoris. Leisurely, she coaxed the tiny bud to life, until it emerged tight and tender from its sheath. She lightly rolled her fingertip over the sensitive flesh, but was unable to completely lose herself to the sensation. She found her own fingers a poor substitute for what she rea
lly desired and, after a few seconds of fruitless strumming, she removed her hand from her parted thighs and pushed herself off the bed.
She needed a release; of that much she was certain. And, resolved to continue her journey towards complete sexual freedom, she was determined to find the next man to help her.
***
Allie had been browsing Facebook; her friends and the friends of her friends, in search of another guy she’d known but hadn’t been in touch with for years. There were two that she remembered well, and remembered being attracted to, but when she landed on their profiles she discovered one was gay and the other was married. For a second, she contemplated just heading to a bar and picking up some stranger. However, she quickly dismissed the notion. Sexual liberation was one thing, placing herself in dangerous situations was something else entirely. Besides, although she didn’t want a relationship with any of the men she’d hooked up with over the previous weeks, she at least knew that they cared about her. A strange man, who picked women up in bars, wouldn’t care about her or her pleasure. There was no way she’d give herself to someone like that.
Giving up on Facebook, she quickly scanned the Chronicle’s website, checking, out of no more than curiosity, if she’d missed some huge news event while she’d been away. Her eyes quickly scanned the same old stuff, until she found an article that caught her eye. But it wasn’t the headline that appealed to her, but the byline: Patrick Branden. He had been a journalist at the L.A. Times when Allie had interned there during her senior year at college. The two of them had got on well, despite the almost twenty year age gap. And she’d found him incredibly attractive, but pretended otherwise. On one hand, she thought it would be a bad idea to get involved with a man, who was no doubt just looking for a fling with a young college student. And on the other hand, she was acutely aware of what kind of name she’d get for herself if she slept with the first ‘proper’ reporter who crossed her radar.
