Cherry Blossoms

by KT Morrison

  “Ah,” she cried and she felt a warm tingle, like, a squirrelly little orgasm that raced through her. “Ah, Geoff, ahh...” she moaned as he slowed. He heaved breath over her back, she felt it through her thick mane of hair. She grabbed up one of his searching hands, laced her fingers through his and clutched it over her heart. He dug his cock deep in her, she felt him flexing and leaking, his slight bend arcing as he tightened himself up inside her, squeezing out the last drops of his seed inside her.

  “Oh, you’re incredible, Geoff,” she said.

  “Nia, shit...ah, wow,” he panted. His weight pressed to her back and she smiled.

  On-screen-Nia had Rocco’s thumb in her mouth and she gently bit it, pressed the edges of her white teeth around it, her lips pouting and then sucking on him. Her eyes were on the camera but she was talking directly to Rocco. Talking about sex, talking about how they would fuck each other the next time. She let Geoff’s hand go, spread her hand on the monitor, blotted out her filthy face, said, “No, Geoff, please...stop it now...turn it off, I don’t want to hear this part.”

  “Okay, okay,” he whispered patiently and he flicked the mouse around on the table, clicked buttons, shut it down, the whole time his softening penis still slipping around up inside her.

  The room felt very quiet without her tinny vice in it, without Rocco’s close-to-microphone growl. It was silent. She heard her own heartbeat in her neck, heard Geoff’s deep breaths behind her as he held her. She didn’t want him out of her yet. It still felt nice to have his wet little penis inside her. Her hand went over his again and she smoothed the back of his hand with her thumb.

  Finally, he said, “You really want me to get rid of that?”

  “I do, Geoff. I’m sorry. I’m still embarrassed. You’re lucky I was so horny tonight. I can’t have that video in existence. Okay? Seriously. What if O was on your computer...or—”

  “I wouldn’t keep it somewhere th—listen, it’s okay. I’ll get rid of it...”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah, I will.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. I fuckin freaked out the second after I sent it. Like I’d ruined our marriage...you were gonna kill me...”

  “I loved it,” he said, and he hugged her again. Then he let his soft penis slip outside of her and she sighed. He helped her sit down, took a sweatshirt that was hanging over the back of his own chair and let her sit on that so she wouldn’t leak all over his chair.

  They sat elbow to elbow, both wide-eyed and sleepy, staring at the big, vacant, file-folder monitor now, where they had just watched her do something truly awful. She felt close to him. He felt like he was closer to her. She turned, said, “I’m going to show you.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m so scared,” she said, felt cold suddenly and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Geoff said, “Nia, look at me, honey...”

  “What?”

  He reached out, took her narrow chin and she felt very safe with her best friend, felt very accepted. He said, “I am ready, okay? This was what I wanted, remember? I said I wanted to know you completely.”

  She nodded, looking in his eyes.

  “Completely,” he repeated. “No matter how bad it is. If it’s you, I love you. If it’s...whatever it is, if it’s you it’s okay.”

  20

  Thirty-Four

  Friday, July 28th

  NIA

  “There’s my birthday boy,” Nia sang, standing in the archway from the hall at the threshold of the kitchen. Geoff was sitting at the breakfast nook, his face instantly sheepish at her zealous attention.

  He winced, moaned, “Don’t—”

  “Who’s thirty-four today?” she kept singing, crossing the kitchen to him. Now he was smirking and shaking his head at her taunting.

  “You’re right behind me, you know.”

  “You’re there first, big guy,” she laughed as she got to him and she hugged his head to her bosom. “I’ve got until September.”

  “Your breakfast is on the stove,” he said into her chest, his hand going up and down her back.

  She got a plate of eggs and two strips of bacon and she sat with him in their cozy kitchen, the sun just starting to come up. Geoff was still in his PJs. She’d slipped into the shower this morning when she woke up, left him sleeping. She was known, quite often, to wake him up with a blowjob on his birthday but she had bigger plans today. Plans that would be better served if his balls were full. If she could make it happen. And if she didn’t chicken out between now and lunch time.

  “Dinner tonight. What’s your pick?” she asked.

  “Somewhere close. No big deal.”

  “Just you and me?”

  “Please, just you and me. No surprises this year.”

  “I won’t. I swear...just the two of us.”

  “I’m so busy...so tired...my back is sore...just want to spend it with you. Peace and quiet.”

  “So like every other night?”

  He laughed, “Yes, like every night. What can I say, I’m a homebody,” he popped a piece of bacon in his mouth, said, “I like being home with that body,” he nudged his chin to her, winked.

  “Did you just wink at me?”

  “Mm-hmm,” he smiled, proud of his little joke.

  “You make me feel like a piece of meat,” she laughed.

  “Agh, you love it,” he said, waving her away.

  Geoff had a lot of work coming in. New stuff from new publishers. Anticipation for the success of this new Choo book. There were people out there who wanted him wrapped up in their projects in case it hit big. They wanted a piece of his success, to bank on it for themselves. Problem was, old Geoff, as usual, couldn’t say no and he was accepting all the jobs. He was working fourteen hour days this week. He had Winslow, practically full-time now, and the kid did a lot for him but it meant he was taking on more and more, thinking he could handle it because he had help. She’d like it if he’d stand up for himself one of these days and turn something down just so he could have the luxury of a normal schedule. She was so proud of him but sometimes, man, those women he worked for took advantage of him.

  “I gotta run,” she said, standing and holding a final, bite-size piece of bacon. “Tonight...I swear, I’ll be home early, just after five. We Skype Odie, she’ll be so excited...then we go out for dinner...then...whatever you want.”

  “Whatever?”

  “We’re alone in the house, no Odie...we’re adults...” she said, looking around the house, surmising the locations they might have sex. “We can do whatever we want.”

  “Do it naked.”

  “We can.” She bent and kissed him, kissed his hair too, ran her hands through it with her bacon between her lips. She hugged him one more time, then headed out of the house and down the stairs.

  An uneasiness crept through her. She’d been working on his gift for days. Now it was time. Planning was one thing. Execution was another. She hoped, hoped upon hope, that he liked the gift she had in store for him.

  NIA

  It had been a full week since she’d used her mouth on Rocco in the truck and filmed it for Geoff. She’d been keeping Rocco off her by saying she didn’t want to fuck in the truck. She’d told him she wanted a bed. He said they could get a motel and she never acted interested. Never committed. They’d been really busy at work and that took their minds off it. Rocco was an odd one. He didn’t want to fuck her eight times in a row like most guys did when she first got it on with them. He was in control. Or maybe he had guilt. It didn’t seem like he was the type—but he was cheating on his wife. Maybe he had trouble dealing with it. She was pretty sure Maria wasn’t going to watch any videos Rocco made of him fucking Nia. Those two would not be making love together watching a video of him fucking another woman.

  She sat with him now, quiet in the truck. Still in Etobicoke, running errands close to the city. They had an appointment at the bank at 12:45. His hands gripped the curve of the steering wheel. His big rough hands
that may or may not have taken a hockey stick and bashed the shit out of Sebastian the stripper. Beaten him close to death because of her white lie. Or maybe not. Why would he do that? Why would he even care? He fucked her and forgot her. He wouldn't give two shits about something he wouldn't even be sure was true.

  Her eyes travelled his muscular arms, admired the artwork on them someone had painstakingly rendered. Frightening dragons twisting on a bed of stylized water, scalloped black shapes, warriors with swords...

  "What are you lookin at?"

  He'd caught her eye, gruffly breaking her out of her reverie. She smiled and shook her head and shrugged, indicating Nothing—she was looking at nothing. She turned now and watched the pedestrians on the sidewalk as they inched towards the city.

  GEOFF

  Sparrow House wanted to fly him to New York City in the first week of August. They wanted to meet and talk about his project and they wanted to discuss what he might do for Laetitia Lily’s book. If he was chosen. He had Donna’s wedding on the fourth, with Nia, but the week after that he said he was free whichever day they liked. They said they’d get back to him.

  He was standing now at his tall drawing table. An ancient monstrosity, had to be fifty years old, solid, heavy metal base, painted black. A beast to deal with, with its hydraulic tilting mechanism. But the work surface was massive. He was going over his loose drawings in ink. A careful scoop of French tin nib-point scratching across the surface of the stiff Strathmore board, making perfectly imperfect jagged lines. Cows and ducks and horses and sheep. Lots and lots of sheep. Each one a very different character, different expression. Details kept kids from turning pages too quickly, kept them engaged. Winslow was scanning the sheets he’d already finished this morning, four full-size 11x17 boards that he would then take and stitch together digitally in Photoshop.

  A song streaming from his iMac ended and Geoff said, "Meh, I don't know…it was all right."

  Winslow was DJ today, playing for Geoff his most esoteric independent rap artists. It was all sounding the same.

  "Fine, fine, fine," he said, exasperated with old man Geoff, and he went to the computer, scrolling through Geoff's Apple Music, trying to find something that wouldn't be met with such disdain.

  Geoff dipped his nib in a glass of water, swirled it vigorously, left it in there, and rubbed his hands over his face. Turned thirty-four today and so far his gift was an emerging awareness that, just like Nia, he would need glasses soon. He stretched and groaned. These hours were killing him. His shoulders ached, his back ached, his hands felt inflamed and arthritic. But he’d never seen so much interest in his work and he had a fear that if he let it slip away from him, it might not come back. These fads come and go and he had to make hay, as they say. So he’d work seven days a week if that’s what it took. Long, hard days. He’d been serious about looking at cottages, but it would not be easy. This was the trade-off.

  His phone vibrated on his table, the screen lit up. He could see an ALL CAPS message that just came in and he felt instantly worried. He grabbed it and read it, a message from Nia.

  Nia: FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

  His hands tingled with fear. What had happened, did she need help, did something happen to Odie?

  His hands shook as he texted back.

  G-Force: What?

  She got back to him right away, was already working on her message,

  Nia: Get Winslow out of there, send him home right away

  G-Force: What, why?

  Nia: I have your birthday present!!!

  G-Force: Really?

  Birthday present? Get Winslow out—was she coming here? His phone buzzed as another message came in.

  Nia: I can’t believe it

  G-Force: OK

  Nia: Turn on the baby monitor

  G-Force: Why?

  Nothing.

  “Uh, Winslow,” he murmured, his mind going a thousand miles an hour while his body and his mouth just chugged along. Baby monitor?

  “What’s up?” Winslow asked him. He was standing by the flatbed scanner, a big tabletop model that cost him almost three-grand, scanned the biggest format work. He was holding a stack of boards, tapping them on the table at the edge of the scanner getting them even and square before he filed them away.

  Geoff stared at him blankly, he said, “Uh, could you...I need you...”

  Winslow bent and pulled a rolling drawer out of the island where the scanner sat and filed away the sheets of artwork away. “You need something?” he asked, standing back up again, watching his boss bumble.

  “Yeah,” Geoff said, getting his mouth in gear, “Yeah, I do. Emergency. I need...” he looked around the room quick, grabbed a pen and a notepad and wrote things he could get Winslow to pick up at the art store. Stuff he usually kept in inventory, liked to have around, nothing urgent. Everything he wrote on the paper for Winslow were things he already had multiple of. He hoped this wasn’t obvious, hoped Winslow didn’t see through this charade to get rid of him. He’d never sent him to do errands before, not to the art store. He normally re-stocked online and had it all shipped. He’d often send him to grab coffees or something from the bakery. But he had an anxious feeling he needed him out for longer than it would take to grab some hot drinks. He couldn’t send him home...they had too much work to do.

  He peeled the top sheet from the pad and said, “Here, buddy, can you get down to Paprika Art Supply and grab some stuff, we’re running low on a few things I’m going to need before the weekend.”

  Winslow stood and looked over the list, said, “Hey, we’ve got, I think, two of the twenty-four ounce bottles of the Pelikan, I think we have some rolls of the French—”

  “Cool,” Geoff said, “yeah, might be duplicates but I want to be prepared, okay?” he took him by the shoulder and walked him past his bike leaning by the studio door.

  Winslow laughed, said, “I’ll get this, but...”

  Geoff looked at him, wild-eyed, but trying to hold himself together.

  “Yeah,” Geoff said, hand still on his shoulder, standing now at the door out to the alley.

  “You can...I mean...I can just go get lunch or something, you can text me when I can come back...”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This stuff, we have it all...sorry, I don’t want to be presumptuous. You just got a text, probably Nia, it’s your birthday,” he said, motioning over to the drawing table where Geoff had been working, “you want me to go urgently grab stuff we already have...”

  Geoff scratched his cheek, still unsure what to say. This wasn’t as simple as it seemed, was it? “Yeah, okay...” he nodded, thinking, said, “Okay, Winslow, thanks, yeah. I’ll text you, okay? Just go grab a...wait, here...” he said, “let me buy you lunch,” reaching for his wallet.

  “No, Geoff, it’s—”

  “No, please, man, let me—”

  “It’s your birthday...”

  “Let me get what I want on my birthday, okay? Here’s, okay, here’s, like, forty. Could you...like, maybe go catch a movie?”

  “Really?”

  “Can you?”

  “Sure, man. You need me to come back, I could bail...”

  “No, dude, we have so much to do...”

  “Okay, okay, text me. I’ll go kill some time.” He took the forty from Geoff’s fingers and he went out to the walk, into the alley, put his hands in his pockets and walked towards the Village.

  Geoff watched him, felt uneasy that Winslow was on to him. He had no idea what was really going on. But fuck, Geoff didn’t either. Baby monitor? She was coming home—coming here? What the fuck was happening? He shut the lights off in his studio and he went to the baby monitor that he kept by his main iMac. He turned it on and checked the battery. Fuck, it was low. Shit. Odie had been gone now for a week, the monitor not on, not checked. It usually stayed connected to a computer and the USB kept it charged. He pulled a USB cord on the back of the iMac to free up a slot and pushed the baby monitor’s cord into it. He sat heav
ily on his office chair and he leaned his chest to the table. He watched the battery symbol. He waited.

  GEOFF

  Geoff sat in his darkened studio and listened to the sounds outside in the alley. Nothing. Nothing for the longest time. His ears strained until they rang. Still nothing. What did she mean, turn on the baby monitor? What was that? Was he missing something here? He was beginning to feel stupid, like he’d misunderstood her strange, cryptic texts. That there was a joke in there somewhere and he didn’t get it. Nia’s horny little husband and his dirty mind took her joke literally, sent Winslow away and turned out all the lights to wait for a surprise that wasn’t coming...

  Then a foreign sound outside in the alley. Unfamiliar, out of place. A truck. The rattle of a diesel motor, idling low, all torque and power, restrained, held back, trembling under the surface, waiting for a foot to feed it some pedal. Rocco? Rocco and Nia? His heart started working overtime again. Okay.