Some Rough Edge Smoothin'

by Louisa Trent

  “Considering the numbers you've had, that's quite the compliment.”

  “Sera,” he began soulfully, “there haven't been all that many women. And I only ever asked you to marry me.”

  She sighed. “Yours was the first proposal I'd ever received.”

  His hand stopped moving on her ass. “Matt didn't ask you to marry him?”

  “If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about my first marriage.” She turned her face away. “Will you release me for a few minutes? I'd like to go pee, if I may?”

  Thinking about that revelation, he untied her.

  When she was free, she'd started easing her legs from the bed.

  First step, her expression went tight.

  Swinging her up into his arms, he carried her through the door into the adjoining bath and sat her down on the toilet seat.

  “Go ahead,” he told her, standing ruthlessly over her, his eyes between her legs, not even pretending to give her privacy, not even pretending to look away.

  She gasped as her bladder released.

  He understood; his cock was on fire too. They'd been going at it like animals for hours.

  After she'd finished, he carried her to the tub.

  “The hot water will help the soreness,” he advised, stripping off the rest of his clothes and getting in with her.

  Closing the glass door, he turned on the water, full blast.

  He washed her beautiful face, her long white throat, her dainty-little breasts.

  Her breasts were swollen, the nipples bruised from his mouth, from his pinching fingers. He could make out the teeth marks on one delicate slope. She had similar marks on both buttocks. He didn't break the silky skin, but he'd come damn close.

  “Open your legs,” he said carefully keeping any reflection from his voice.

  When she'd done what she was told to do, he directed the shower spray between her legs, washing the stickiness away.

  “Turn,” he said, his tone still devoid of emotion.

  This time he directed the spray between her shoulder blades, down her spine, between her buttocks. His semen continued to make its pearled way down the drain.

  She'd said nothing as he washed her, remained silent as he dried her, stood mute when he dropped to his knees before her and placed his jaw against her belly. Sinking lower, he kissed a bruise on her inner thigh.

  “I want to do anal,” she said.

  She could have asked him to crawl, and he would have crawled. He could have kneed him in the nuts, and after howling for a few minutes, he would have gone back for more. Of all the things she could have asked, could have said, could have done, that was the one thing he hadn't been expecting.

  He looked up at her, into the green eyes that were bright with excitement. “What the hell are you talking about, Sera?”

  “We don't have much time left. Before we go our separate ways, I want to know that my body belonged to you completely.”

  Possession is a two way street. She owned him, body and soul, since day one of their marriage. Even before day one. She didn't know what she did to him, how helpless and weak he was when he was with her. He hated being weak. Defenseless. Vulnerable-

  “You want it too, Tomas,” she said, placing his palm so that it covered her bottom, and then grinding the heel of his hand into the bruised flesh. “If you can't admit to anything else, at least admit to that. You want us to belong totally to one another.”

  “Christ,” he prayed, and turned her so she was faced away. “Yes, I do want it.”

  He worshipped a buttock with his mouth, before slipping his tongue inside, moving it inside, until she started to writhe.

  He'd needed some sign, some proof that she cared, an acknowledgement that this was about more than bodies, and that maybe, despite everything, they had a shot at permanence.

  But Sera hadn't given him anything to nourish his hope. She wanted sex. That's all she wanted from him.

  He scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the bed, placing her at the edge. He placed Sera's damp hair over a shoulder. “You'll need lube.” He swallowed hard, smoothed his hand over the lush bottom that drove him wild. “At least the first time.”

  He reached for the nightstand, opened the top drawer, one handed the top of the tube open.

  When his lubed finger made contact with her anus, she went very still.

  He whispered into her ear, “We can stop any time.”

  “I don't want you to stop! I was only...well...startled,” she said solemnly.

  Sometimes it was metaphysical; sometimes it was all about the mechanics...

  He lubed her good, and then lubed his cock.

  Kissing the small of her back first, he opened her buttocks, and fingered the dimple. When she could take two fingers inside, he withdrew.

  “We'll take it nice and slow,” he promised, and fed his cock into her lush ass.

  “Oh,” she gasped when he started to make the slow push. “Oh!”

  “It's all right, sweet baby. It's okay.” His free hand went to her clit. “You've so damned sexy. So sexy. You feel so good.”

  Her muscles remained tight.

  “If you don't want this, we won't do it,” he said, pulling away.

  She took a deep breath, and with a small sob, said, “I do want this, Tomas.”

  “You gotta show me, honey.”

  She reached behind her hips. With two hands, she opened herself in back. “Don't ever doubt that I want you, Tomas.”

  It was so beautiful, the way she did that for him.

  He went to her, drew a hand down her spine, calming her, petting her, saying over and over again, “Feel how much I want you, feel how much I want you,” as his cock sank into the crevice, and then into her.

  Her cry at penetration was soft and low.

  “Shh,” he soothed, “Shh.”

  Madness driving him, he watched himself go in, all the way in, her body accepting him totally.

  “Mmm,” she purred through her tears, pushing back against him, meeting his forward thrust so that he had not an inch to spare, so that his balls were rammed up into his throat.

  “Oh yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, yes, yes. Don't hold back.”

  He didn't.

  Wiping the sweat from her sides, tightening his grip on her hips so his fingers wouldn't slide on her slippery skin, he pushed them both over the edge into oblivion where deceit and disappointment and confused words like love don't matter.

  When they had both screamed a mutually agonized climax, he reached inside the drawer.

  “One time won't be enough for either of us,” he told her, and installed the plug. “It'll be easier if you wear this.”

  Post coital snuggling out of the question. He said, “Rest now, Sera,” and left her.

  Because he was weak, because his pride had deserted him, he came back to Sera twice more, until there was nothing more inside him left to give her. Then strung out and sick and empty, he turned on his heel, found his clothes, and left her there, naked, on the bed.

  He cried all the way back to his trailer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Two months later...

  “Hi Mrs. Ruiz!” Consuelo Rodriguez boomed from the top step of The Southside Conservatory of Music. Her best pal, shy Kelley O'Donnell, hung back and played with the wispy bangs that decorated her forehead like red feathers.

  Sera grinned at both girls. Her arms were loaded with music books, and aching from their weight, but she stopped to chat with her two students anyway. “You guys are looking all bright-eyed this afternoon. What's up?”

  In typical Connie-style, the exuberant twelve-year old bounced up and down while the quiet Kelley continued to fix her hair.

  “We're both so totally blown away!” Connie offered. “We got you for voice workshop again next semester.”

  At that pronouncement, Sera totally dropped her books, and opened her arms wide to hug both girls; Mrs. Ruiz was big on hugs. “I know. Isn't it cool?”

 
“Way cool,” Connie enthused, while Kelley vigorously nodded her ponytails. “Is there anybody else we know in the class?”

  “I'm stopping into the office right now to find out my spring schedule. Come along and we'll check out the class list together.”

  Tagged by Connie and Kelley, Sera led the way into the administrative area where the registrar looked over a computer generated scheduling report.

  “We couldn't wait to come back here, Mrs. Ruiz. Me and Kelley are both taking piano too. On scholarship,” Connie bragged.

  “Which scholarship?” Sera asked absently; there were so many now, it was sometimes difficult to keep track.

  “The Ruiz Construction Scholarship,” she said proudly. “On account of we're both so talented. My brother, Jose, is gonna take a computer graphics class with Mr.Ruiz down at the rec center. He says it sounds way interesting.”

  “He'd better sign up soon. I've heard that class is quite popular.”

  “Jose wants to take 3D animation too. All kinds of neat courses are being offered there. Everything, ‘cept music.”

  Sera lifted her fair brows. “Tomas Ruiz had better not cut into my territory.”

  Connie giggled. “He's so cute. All my girlfriends are half in love with him. Some older ladies your age, too. How come you two aren't married no more?”

  Sera, pretending not to hear that question, she asked the registrar, “Miss True, may I see my class schedule for next semester?”

  Sera was proud of their automated registration system. She thought the school would have to do everything manually, but then an office supply store moved into the neighborhood and donated a computer. The thoughtful gesture made processing student files much easier.

  The office supply store was one of the many small businesses opening on the Southside. Abandoned buildings were scooped up left and right and promptly renovated, not ripped down. Real estate values were soaring. There was even talk of building a new public school...

  Washing windows, one pane at a time, Seraphina thought. Sometimes that's all it took to bring pride back to a neighborhood.

  And jobs.

  And new houses.

  The Conservatory was surrounded by gorgeous, but moderately priced new houses, in various states of construction, most of which were already sold. Soon the sounds of Bach and Beethoven would drift through the backyard gardens of those new homes as student musicians learned their craft. The Southside was really turning around.

  When the registrar handed her the computer run, Sera stared at the printout in disbelief. “That man!”

  Roxanne True's brow puckered. “What man?”

  “Tomas Ruiz!”

  “I thought you knew.” The former exotic dancer chuckled. “Tommie is in every one of your classes next term. Someone told him he had the hands for the piano, and he decided to give lessons a go.”

  He did have the hands for the piano; she'd told him so herself. But there were two other piano and voice teachers at the school now, a necessity due to increasing enrollments, and both were wonderfully talented musicians. Why couldn't he have chosen one of them?

  Sera had heard from Myra the other day. It seems Tomas was taking art courses at the community college, poetry classes at the library, music here-did the man never sleep?

  Tomas Ruiz never had done things in half measures! Evidently, he was now on a whirlwind tour of self-improvement. And it was working; Tomas was rapidly becoming one of the most respected and influential citizens in Fenton.

  Connie and Kelley had giggled over the class list for a while and then left, leaving Roxanne to whisper privately to her, “Did you know that Tommie is offering tuition reimbursement to his crew and their families for any courses they take here?”

  “Yep.”

  Class enrollment was up now, but that hadn't been the case in the beginning.

  After a disappointing start, Calia had once again canvassed the neighborhood, installing a new series of flyers on telephone poles offering instrumental instruction during mothers’ hours. The very next week, the classes were filled to capacity with moms on full tuition reimbursement waivers from Ruiz Construction.

  Tomas Ruiz to the rescue!

  He'd had a hand in solving her staffing shortage too.

  One day, a professional photographer came to the school to take videos. He was supposedly there as a public relations move by Ruiz Construction, to promote their tuition reimbursement benefit package. Considering that the school was benefiting from that package, Sera could hardly turn him away. Somehow, though, the tape managed to find its way to every college placement office in the country. Before she knew what was happening, Sera had applicants calling her to set up interviews, all dying to work at the beautiful new school. Now she had more fully qualified applicants than she knew what to do with.

  Sera handed the computer report back to Roxanne. “Have you seen Calia today?”

  “She's outside with Enrico.”

  “Those two seem to be romantically inclined.”

  The registrar sagely nodded. “Calia's young yet. I hope Enrico gives her some time to grow up first before they get ... involved.”

  “I think he will. They're the same age, but Enrico seems years older, doesn't he?” Sera lowered her voice. “Calia tells me he's not putting any pressure on her yet. ‘He's continuing to behave like a complete gentleman', she says.”

  Roxie smiled. “'Rico's a good boy. He'll do right by Calia. Just you wait and see. And speaking of perfect gentlemen, here's one coming to take me for coffee. I'm going to have to shake things up but good in that direction if I want more than a kiss goodnight at the door from him.”

  With a wave, the statuesque former exotic dancer did a slow, seductive strut to meet a certain voice instructor at the Conservatory.

  Sera didn't doubt for a minute that Rox could shake things up with the vocal coach. The poor guy didn't stand a chance.

  Now that Sera was earning a steady income at the school, she'd retired from waiting tables, but she was still seeing Lou as much as ever since Rox started working at the school.

  Sera hurried from the registrar's office to her next class.

  At the podium, she tapped her baton to quiet the group; disgruntled after hearing they were performing The Mikardo by Gilbert and Sullivan.

  “Sorry, people,” she called over the vocal grumbles and groans. “I realize that G and S are no longer as fashionable as they once were-”

  The group booed.

  Sera tapped the podium again. “-but that's tough. We're doing ‘em.”

  As she knew they would, the class ganged up on her:

  “What is this with dead composers? Isn't there someone out there who hasn't been dead for like a thousand years we could do instead?”

  She smiled. “We can jazz up the numbers. Bring them up to speed. Put a contemporary twist on the musical.”

  “No way!”

  “Impossible!”

  “What about doin’ Rent?”

  And on it went.

  Mrs. Ruiz rapped the podium again. “People, people, quiet down! We're doing G and S, like it or not. We'll run through each piece as a group, and then tomorrow, I'll conduct auditions for specific parts. I'll hear leads first, then supporting, right on down the line. You'll love this musical, I just know it.”

  Sera raised her baton and the group stumbled their way through each number. By four-thirty, the teacher was feeling more than a little drained. “Okay, kids, that was great. See you tomorrow after school.”

  The day was over and it was time once again to face her lonely apartment.

  Although she loved to teach, even when she was fully engaged in imparting knowledge to her students, she was missing Tomas. No matter how busy she was, or what she was doing, she was missing the man she loved.

  She'd swallow her pride and tell him so during their first lesson. And keep on telling him until he listened. She intended to fight for the stubborn man until she won his heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
>
  Rubble fell from the ceiling. Jagged pieces of plaster and concrete barely missed her head. Billowing clouds of dust choked her lungs and gritted her eyes. Sera disregarded it all. She crept forward, inch-by-inch, on hands and knees in the darkness.

  Only faith in a higher power kept her moving. Only prayer prevented her from surrendering to despair.

  In India, she thought she'd lost both her faith and her ability to pray, but when she'd needed them the most, a Greater Authority had miraculously restored both to her. She needed the power of prayer and the optimism of faith now more than she had ever needed them before! She must not question whether or not Tomas was already dead! She must not ask herself how anyone could survive in the aftermath of so much destruction!

  She would not give into negative thinking. She'd find her husband and she'd find him alive alive! There was something very important she needed to tell him.

  Sera had been preparing dinner when Myra called to tell her that the Ruiz Construction crew was shoring up the basement in a warehouse when a gas leak in an abandoned building next door caused an explosion. It was just one of those terrible coincidences, as the derelict structure wasn't part of the Riverfront Project. Everyone had gotten out of the warehouse basement but Tomas. Her husband was still missing, buried under tons of bricks and mortar where once had stood a four story building.

  With a voice breaking with emotion, Myra went on to relate that Tomas had behaved heroically to ensure that all his men were brought to the surface. But when his turn came for rescue, in a characteristic move, the boss of Ruiz Construction had stayed underground for a final sweep of the area ‘just to make sure his men were all accounted for'.

  The relic of a building, constructed long before codes and regulations, had swayed, then crumbled. The single girder holding the roof in place had broken in half like a toothpick, flattening all that remained underneath. Her husband was somewhere underneath the avalanche.

  Tomas! Her heart cried. Where are you?

  A cough from somewhere up ahead. A groan. A curse. Movement!

  It was dark, and clouds of plaster distorted what little she could see, but Sera knew it was Tomas.