Eroe

by Mj Fields

  I can’t help noticing her nipples pushing against the fabric of her white blouse.

  “I want to taste them.” I blurt, reaching for her with my other hand.

  She steps back, eyes wide, shaking her head. “You can’t!”

  I’ve been around long enough to know a lie when I hear one. “You want me to touch you just as badly as I want to.”

  “I’ve never,” she looks down, pulling her arm away. I let her.

  “That’s too bad.”

  I turn away, looking down at the water.

  “Have you?” Her voice is soft, barely a whisper.

  “I haven’t,” I admit. “But I have no doubt that when I do, I will excel.”

  At that, she laughs.

  I look up at her, curious at her reaction. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re a virgin?”

  I’m not sure if she’s making fun of me, or simply asking a question.

  “I have never experienced sex with a partner,” I clarify. “But I know how to get myself off.”

  Her mouth falls open again, and she looks even more surprised than when I offered to taste her nipples.

  I don’t understand what her problem is. “Tell me you’ve never touched yourself, Luciana.”

  “Of course I haven’t!” Her outrage is clearly for show.

  “Let me show you.” I hold out my hand for her to take, knowing that if she does not take it, I will walk away.

  But she does.

  I lead her down around the rocks, hidden from view of any school buildings. Once we are safely out of sight, I turn toward her, bringing her hand to rest on my hard cock.

  Luciana gasps, but she doesn’t take her hand away.

  I meet her eyes with total sincerity. “See what you have done to me?”

  “I’m…I’m….”

  “You need to take care of this,” I tell her.

  She bites her lip, playing innocent, but her nipples can’t lie. “I don’t understand.”

  I unbutton my pants and let them fall away. I watch the way she stares at my cock like it’s the last piece of cake after a three-day fast. She licks her lips and I smile.

  “With your hand or your mouth. Either way is fine.”

  She doesn’t move fast enough for me, so I let my fingertips trail up to brush across one of the tight peaks in her blouse. She whimpers. Her face shows hesitation, mixed with desire.

  “It aches there, doesn’t it?”

  She doesn’t answer ‘yes,’ but she also doesn’t say no. So I cup her small, round tit in my hand, and gently pinch her nipple. She cries out, and tries to pull away. But I wrap my arm around her, holding her firmly in place.

  “It feel good, doesn’t it? So why are you fighting it?”

  I give her breast another little tweak.

  “I, I....” She seems embarrassed, yet unable to come up with a reason. “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

  I don’t understand the look of expectation flickering in her eyes.

  “Kissing is for lovers,” I tell her. She should know that much, at least.

  She shakes her head, pulling away again. This time, I allow it.

  “This is wrong,” she says. “This...this is so wrong, Sabato.”

  “Why is it wrong?”

  “Because, I’m not a whore.”

  “I never said that you were.” I don’t understand what she’s talking about. All I know is that I want to touch her again. I need to touch her again.

  Her cheeks are reddening again, but this time she looks angry, instead of embarrassed. “It’s just like a guy, to think that just because a girl likes him, that she wants to have sex with him. That she’s going to just let him do whatever he—”

  “You said I was beautiful.”

  She scoffs. “Yeah, well....So are the flowers in the chapel garden, but you don’t see me going all the way with them.”

  “Luciana.” My voice is soft, but firm. “This doesn’t have to be about right and wrong. If it makes you feel good, then you should embrace it.”

  I wrap my hand around myself, watching her face as her eyes flick to my rock hard erection.

  “I am doing what I want, and it feels good. If you don’t approve, you can go.”

  Luciana doesn’t leave, though. She stands, eyes riveted on my hand as I stroke myself.

  “If you won’t leave,” I say, breathing more quickly now, “and you won’t touch me, then at least touch yourself.”

  Eyelids fluttering, she meets my gaze.

  “I...I don’t know how.”

  “Do what I did, then. Pinch your nipples, squeeze your tiny little tits. Touch yourself, and pretend it is me. Let me watch you get yourself off.”

  Slowly, clumsily, she does as I instructed, her eyes locked on mine the entire time. The blush on her cheeks grows, and she bites her lip again. I like when she does that. I stroke myself harder in response.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Good,” her voice comes out breathy, little more than a squeak, “but, wrong.”

  Her eyes fall in shame, so I encourage her.

  “I am imagining that my hand is yours, squeezing me.” I begin stroking faster with each word. “Imagine that it is my hand touching your beautiful breasts, Luciana, and do it again.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  I smile. “Do you think I would want to touch you if you disgusted me?”

  Her forehead creases. “So, I don’t disgust you.”

  Her voice isn’t sweet, or breathy this time. I realize I have said the wrong thing.

  “You make me hard, so obviously I think you are appealing.”

  Now her look softens a bit. I keep going. “I wanted to touch you, so obviously I want to make you feel good.”

  “So...you like me.”

  I begin to feel exasperated. It’s becoming difficult to stay erect with all the expectations. Particularly since I don’t understand exactly what it is she wants from me.

  “Look, Luciana. I want to touch you, and be touched by you.” I shove my cock in my pants and pull them back up, “but this is growing tiresome.”

  “There are steps towards that, you know.” She moves toward me, reaching up to touch my face. “This touch feels good, too.”

  I move away from her. “How many lips have touched yours?”

  “A few,” she says, smiling. “I can show you how to—”

  “Not interested.” I turn to walk away, and she follows.

  “Not interested!?”

  At the sound of her screech, I turn back to look at her. “You’re a tease,” I tell her. “You are not pure, and yet you—”

  “Not pure? Not PURE? You know what? Screw you!” With that, she storms off.

  Annoyed and confused, I call out after her, “Apparently that’s the only thing you won’t do!”

  Eighteen

  May 27th 2004

  I walk out of my last class, heading towards my car. Finally I have one of my own, thanks to father. I open the door, throw my bundle of books in the passenger seat, and push the button to bring the convertible top down.

  Embracing my freedom, I pull my shirt over my head and throw it aside. I am going to start the car, rev the engine loudly in celebration, when someone opens the passenger side door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, as Luciana takes my books in her hands and plops down in their place.

  “You make me crazy.” I don’t know where this is coming from, but I know I don’t have time for this.

  “Look, Luciana....”

  “No, you look.” Her face is red, jaw clenched. “I know what you’re doing. Who you are. And you’re not going to do it again.”

  I grip the steering wheel in frustration. “Will you get out?”

  “Sabato Efisto, it’s your birthday.” She bends down, reaching into her bag.

  I’m not sure why, but I really don’t want to know what she has in there. It can’t be anything good.

  “I won’t
say it again, Luciana.” I make my voice as dangerous as it can be. “Get out of my car, or you’ll be sorry.”

  She straightens up, fixing me with a glare that reminds me of my Mama. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  Something snaps inside me.

  “Well, you fucking will be.”

  I key the engine awake, then immediately throw the Ferrari in reverse. The tires spin as I back out of my spot. Luciana’s head whips forward, and her forehead almost hits the dashboard.

  I don’t wait, just go straight into first gear and pull out of the parking lot, throwing stones in my wake.

  She gasps in surprise, eyes wide, but I don’t care. I am so angry at her. How dare she get into my car without being invited? How dare she refuse to leave when I instructed? How dare she? Who does she think she is?

  My grip on the wheel tightens as I skip second gear and go into third. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her hands shaking as they reach for her seat belt. Good. I’m glad she is nervous. She should be.

  Today is not the day to push me. Today is not the day to make me feel trapped, or caged. Today, of all days, is my day to be free. Finally.

  I slam on the brakes, skidding to a stop in the gravel on the shoulder of the road.

  “Get out,” I snarl at her, breaking my promise. I said I wouldn’t tell her again, but well, she’s not a very good listener. And I’m not good at keeping my promises.

  She holds her hands tightly together, but I can still see them tremble. It makes me happy. Joyful even, in some sick way. I press her harder, to see if I can scare her more. “Get. Out. Now.”

  I reach across her body, ignoring the way she tenses at my nearness. I push the release button on her belt, then reach past her to shove the door open.

  Her shaking hands reach out to wrap around my neck, linking together behind it as she presses herself against me.

  “Please, don’t. Please, don’t make me leave you.”

  “You better leave, while you still can.” I speak through gritted teeth, trying my hardest not to breathe in her sweet scent.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” This time when she says it, her voice is stronger, more sure.

  “You should be.”

  I wrap my fingers in her hair and pull back sharply. Her head falls back against the seat, mouth slightly open. Her long, thin neck exposes itself, becoming my next target. Leaning down, I drag my lips across her skin, then bite down lightly on her flesh. My cock immediately hardens, to the point that is just past uncomfortable—but not yet painful. Somehow, her hand finds it, without being shown the way.

  Shocked at the sudden change in her attitude, I pull back away and sit up. Questioning, I look down at her, into her eyes. Eyes that now seem to accept me, want me, beg me for more.

  “Kiss me,” she whispers. “Please.”

  Gently, because it is almost too good to be true, I press my lips against hers. Surprise strikes me again as her tongue seeks entry between my lips. I lose my breath for a moment, until the animalistic desire to control comes over me. With barely a fight, I overtake her tongue with mine, and lay claim to her sweet mouth.

  She makes a sound, like the cooing of a dove. It is all the encouragement I need. Roughly, I grab her face, positioning her head to a better angle, allowing my tongue to gain further access.

  She whimpers then and tries to pull away, but I refuse to let go. I can’t stop savoring her mouth. It isn’t until she strikes my chest with her hands that I force myself to let go and pull away.

  We are both breathing hard, like we just ran for miles. Otherwise, there is silence in the car. Our eyes meet across the space, and neither of us say a single word.

  I am the first to turn away, suddenly unable to keep my eyes on her. A feeling grips me, and I’m not sure if it is remorse, or sadness, or regret, or all of the above.

  “I’m taking you back now,” I tell her.

  “Please don’t.” I look at her, confused all over again. She doesn’t seem to know what she wants, either. “I don’t want to go back. I want to be here, with you.”

  I shake my head. “You may be curious, and taste like sin itself, but inside you are a child. You don’t want me. You don’t even know what it is that you want.”

  Her eyes drop to her lap, and now she is the one who looks sad. “I know that when I’m with you is the only time I really feel...anything.”

  For a long time, I just look at her. There is something so fascinating about her, so infuriating. I am angry and intrigued, and aroused, and hungry for more. But today is not a day for deep, philosophical questions. And I am not a patient person.

  “Tomorrow, I will fuck you.”

  Though her face reddens, somehow she manages to look up, meeting my gaze with strength. “No,” she shakes her head. “Tomorrow, you will date me.”

  “What?” I sputter, enraged all over again. “You can’t...you don’t make the rules. Especially not to a game that I didn’t want to play to begin with.”

  Luciana straightens her shoulders, and her voice comes out even stronger now. “No matter what else you do, you will treat me like a lady.”

  I laugh one short, derisive bark. “I will fuck you like a wh—”

  I don’t see her hand coming, until it’s connecting with my face. The slap isn’t hard enough to hurt, but it echoes through the car. I sit, frozen in surprise, staring at her as my face throbs.

  Her eyes burn into mine. Not with anger, but with triumph.

  “You will love me first.”

  With that, I put the car in reverse. A few minutes later, we pull up in front of the girls’ dormitory building.

  “Goodnight, Luciana.” I honestly don’t know what else to say.

  She sighs, rolling her shoulders. “I really don’t want to go.”

  My patience snaps like a thread—what is left of it isn’t much. A few seconds longer, and I’m not sure what I will do. All I know is that it won’t be good. For either of us.

  “Goodnight, Luciana!”

  I shove her away from me, toward the door, as hard as I can. She opens it herself, reaching down to take her bag off the floor. My books slide to take its place as she stands. I’d forgotten they were in her lap.

  Before closing the door behind her, she takes something out of the bag and drops it onto the passenger seat.

  “Happy Birthday, Sabato.”

  When I walk into my building, I am greeted the same way I have been all my life, with eyes to the ground. At my approach, my fellow classmates turn away, as if someone else is calling their attention, or as if I don’t even exist.

  Suddenly, I am angrier than ever that Luciana upset my plans. I didn’t wreak havoc. Didn’t make it rain glass. All because of her.

  I’m not sure what else to do but yell my frustration. “It’s my birthday!”

  No one in the common room moves or says a word.

  “Did you hear me?” I repeat myself, but louder this time. “It’s my fucking birthday!”

  A kid steps up next to me, laying a hand on my shoulder, ignoring my murderous look. He’s relaxed and his attitude is laid back. Dark haired and thin, he looks familiar.

  “Great day to find your voice.”

  I stare him down, hoping he’ll get the message and take his hand away soon. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Your neighbor. I live in the room next to you?” When I don’t respond, he shrugs. “My name’s Thorello. Thorello Archangello. You can call me Thor.”

  His last name sounds familiar to me, but I can’t place it. I shake my head. Either way, it’s ridiculous.

  “Like the superhero?” I laugh, but not in a kind way.

  “Something like that,” he smiles, and I don’t understand why. “Happy Birthday, man.”

  “Yeah, whatever, man.” Shrugging his hand off, I turn to walk away.

  “Hold up,” he says, following me. “You wanna get the fuck out of here?”

  I look back, my mood going from curious to incredulous. Is he hitting on
me? He nods over his shoulder, toward the door. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I sneer at him. “I’m not into men. Especially not men with ridiculous names. Get away from me, before I kick your ass.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” he holds up his hands. “Settle down there, Birthday Guy. I’m not trying to bang you, just want to show you something.”

  At that point, I realize that I actually have nothing better to do with my time. So I shrug and follow him. We walk down the stairs and out the way I just came, toward the parking lot.

  “I’ll drive.” I take my keys out of my pocket and hit the auto start.

  “Ferrari F12 Berlinetta?” Thor sounds impressed. “Fucking beautiful ride, man. But yeah...no, I’m not riding with you.”

  “Excuse me?” I can’t decide if I’m offended more for myself or the car.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, man. We all know you wreck a car every year on your birthday.”

  “Who told you this?” My hands tighten into fists.

  Thor reaches into the pocket of his school-issued jacket, pulls out a flask and hands it to me.

  “Chill out, Sabato. Everyone knows everyone’s business around here.”

  After a moment of hesitation, I open the flask and take a drink. After the burning sensation in my throat subsides, I hand it back.

  “I don’t know everyone’s business.”

  “Well, yeah. That’s because you don’t talk to anyone. So, let me tell you a little about me. My family lives in Florence.” He takes a drink, then hands me the flask again. “I am not much different than you. Actually, I’ve been expelled from a bunch of schools, probably for a lot less than you were. My father is not Salvatore Efisto, though. He’s a detective.”

  He shoves the flask back in his jacket pocket, pulls out a joint instead, sparks it up and hands it to me. I’m not usually into that, but it’s my birthday, so I take a hit.

  “Of course,” he says, casually. “He’s dead now. It’s actually kind of your father’s fault, too. But hey, what isn’t?”

  I am so surprised, I choke on the smoke. Part of me thinks he is joking. But one look at his face, at his total lack of smile, tells me that part is wrong.

  I step away from him, pulling fresh air into my lungs as I straighten to my full height.