by Turner, V T
“Hey!” she greeted me excitedly, waddled over to me, throwing her arms around me. Feeling her heat again, being close enough to smell her, excited emotions in me that I had been struggling to keep at bay.
“How are you?” she asked merrily. She didn’t seem to be interested in an answer, she turned around, scanned the perimeter, the empty streets, the quiet road, and then gave me a cheeky and suggestive grin. “Do you want to...” she raised her eyebrows.
I shook my head. “I don’t think--”
“Come on,” she moved forward, put her hands on my hips. Sensing her close, her hips inches from mine, her breasts getting closer, I allowed my instincts to take over. I pressed up against her, moved in for the kiss and then managed to get a hold of myself. I pulled back, peeling away from her.
“I can’t,” I told her.
She grabbed at my pants, cupping the bulge there, grinning delightfully. I pulled away, shaking off her advances with a distasteful pout.
“No,” I told her, as if disciplining an unruly child or pet.
“Why?” she asked, putting on a puppy dog expression.
“Why do you think?” I spat, exasperated. “I got the shit kicked out of me because of you.”
She shook her head, the smile still on her face. “Wasn’t my fault.”
“It fucking was!” a spray of spittle left my mouth as I struggled to restrain my anger and disbelief. “They could have killed me, and when I came to you, you didn’t even invite me in. What the fuck was that all about?”
She shrugged, her head lowered into her chest, adopting the expression of a mischievous child being told off.
“What is wrong with you?” I begged to know.
She shrugged again, raised her head, moved a step towards me without my realizing. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re not, something is--”
She stopped me with a kiss. She pushed her tongue into my mouth, silencing anymore arguments. I tried to pull away but she wrapped her arms around me and jumped on me, her thighs tight around my waist.
Unable to move my body, I tried to pry back my head but her lips were locked tight. I pushed her up against the back wall of the bus shelter, pressed her against the concrete, forcing our bodies closer together, until my cock strained against my pants, desperate for release.
I heard a number of cars pass behind us, but I didn’t care, nor did she. The street was quiet, the bus-stop empty, if anyone did want to use the bus-stop, they would keep walking, onto the next one. Those who stopped would be treated to a show.
I moved back, giving her room to maneuver, to drop her feet to the floor, pull her knickers down to her ankles; our mouths still locked, as if we needed each other to breathe, to live. I sensed her eager sex in front of mine, worked a free hand to pull down my zipper, released a cock that had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity. When she jumped back onto me, her thighs back around my hips, squeezing tight against the bony flesh, I entered her. The sensation, a rush of ecstasy, was enough for me to gasp, breaking free of her lips.
I moved my head to her shoulders as she looped hers over my back, biting my neck, digging her fingernails into my flesh. I fucked her hard, driving into her with force, feeling how she loved every thrust, how she screamed at me for more, inflicted more finger wounds onto my flesh. It was like a cathartic release, aggressive sex to expel my anger towards her, but she loved it, and so did I.
I finished before her, stopped her just at the moment of climax. I fell against her, pressing her lethargically up against the back wall of the bus shelter. She slid down, released herself from me. My eyes were closed, my breathing heavy, but I felt her hand on my cock, wet from her juices and mine. She began to work it, to tease it. It had its fill, but before long it was ready again.
“Do you want to go again?” she asked.
I opened my eyes, saw her grinning at me.
I turned around, noticed an amused man on the other side of the road watching us with intrigue. Further down, through the back windows of one of the houses that overlooked the road, I saw a female face twitching the curtains.
I turned back to Lisa, still playing with my spent cock, flicking her tongue over the end when she saw me look.
“Everyone’s watching,” I told her.
She shrugged, slipped my cock into her mouth, teased it with her teeth, her tongue.
I grabbed the back of her head, pushed her from me. “Okay,” I said, bringing a broad smile to her face. “Let’s do it.”
6
“I heard you were with Lisa the other day?”
“Who told you?”
Andrew frowned at me, looked disappointed.
It had been three days since the meeting at the bus shelter, three days since Lisa and I treated a dozen passing cars and a handful of locals to some hardcore exhibitionism. Somehow my brother and found out, and he wasn’t happy with me.
“I told you to stay away from her.”
I held up my hands, prepared to apologize for sleeping with his girlfriend and then his ex, but he jumped in before I had a chance.
“She’s evil,” he said. “She’ll fuck with your mind.”
Now it was my turn to frown, he didn’t seem the slightest bit annoyed that I had been with her, seemed more worried about what she would do to me then the fact that I had betrayed his trust so blatantly.
“I can handle myself,” I said confidently.
He shook his head slowly. “It’s sounds like you had fun,” he noted with a wry smile creeping onto his face. “She is fun, isn’t she? But make that the last time. You’ve had your fill, leave her before she breaks your heart.”
“Breaks my heart?” I laughed meekly. “I’m good, trust me.”
He saw through the lies, saw that she had already hurt me, that I was hanging onto her, hoping that she would change. “Don’t see her again.”
I nodded solemnly. “Okay.”
What he didn’t know was that I had seen her after the night at the bus-stop. I had awoken in bed a few hours later to the pitter patter of stones clipping off my bedroom window. I had opened the curtains to see her standing there looking radiant, her pale feature aglow in the security light that engulfed the back garden.
I let her in and we both crept upstairs to my bedroom. We had sex on the floor to avoid the noisy springs. It was rushed but it was good. I silenced her by kissing her, cutting out her moans and screams with my lips and tongue, then, before the moistness between her legs had time to dry, after sharing no more than three whispered words with me, she headed back into the night.
I waited for her the next night, and the next, staying up late in anticipation of another late night call. She didn’t appear.
I paid another visit to the bus-stop at the same time, but she wasn’t there either. I decided to go around to her flat again. It was late and the beating was still fresh on my mind. The night was filled with the air of boisterous kids and delinquent teenagers, their shouts, curses and laugher rang through the estates and chilled me to the bone. I jumped at every sound, was prepared to run to kick my nervous, wobbling legs into gear every time I passed a group of loitering kids.
I was on edge, but determined. Lisa was worth another beating, the possibility of a lifetime with her was worth putting my life on the line.
I opened the door to the block of flats, nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a gruff male voice echoing around the thin walls. He sounded excited, exhausted. I moved towards the stairs and then paused, seeing shadows dancing out from underneath the staircase, hearing vices spill out.
It wasn’t my business and I didn’t need to see what was going on, I certainly didn’t need to piss off any more locals and receive anymore beatings, but something compelled me to look. I moved around the staircase, peered into the alcove which was lit from the side by a springy fluorescent that spat a jaundiced light onto the floor.
I saw a man’s naked back, his muscles sweaty, glistening like oiled leather under the glow of
the light. His pants were down around his thighs, his tight backside exposed as it drove backwards and forwards, into the woman in front of him. She was bent over, her backside lifted to the air to take him in, but her head was turned, arched backwards, looking at him and then, when I shifted into view, at me.
She was smiling, grinning, and that grin didn’t falter when she saw me. It increased, spread further across her face. It didn’t sink in at first, I was too shocked, too appalled, but then I recognized the smiling face in the grinning light.
“Lisa.” My voice caught in my throat. I stepped forward, shouted more clearly. “Lisa?”
She had seen me, recognized me, but she didn’t stop him from fucking her, didn’t stop herself from grinning.
The kid pulled out of her, turned to me, his cock, glistening with Lisa’s wetness, pointing at me. He growled at me, looked ready to take my head off. His angry face should have sent me running, I knew he was stronger than me, not just from looking at him -- at his bigger muscles, his stronger stature -- but from experience: he was the same kid who had beaten me up. But I didn’t run, I returned his angered expression, snarled right back at him.
Lisa straightened up, seemingly taking great delight in watching two men face off over her. She wore a tight white tee-shirt underneath a slim leather jacket, opened to expose her erect nipples which pressed against the thin material. Her jeans were around her ankles and she made no attempt to pull them up as she watched, her shaved pussy exposed.
I was studying the smile on her face when he punched me. I felt my jaw click, felt my world spin. I turned, toppled over and used the wall for support, to stop me from collapsing to the grimy floor.
He yelled something at me, a victory salute probably, I couldn’t hear beyond the blood that rushed madly through my ears. I dabbed my head with my hand, as if soaking up the pain. I straightened up and glared at him. He seemed surprised that I wasn’t on the floor, waiting to have the shit kicked out of me again, and I surprised him even more when I charged at him.
I’m not a good fighter, I’ve had the shit kicked out of me on a number of occasions, but never have I actually been on the winning side, nor have I felt inclined to be -- usually adopting the fetal position to protect my delicates whilst my dignity ebbs away -- but this was different. I was angry, I was seething, I was in love.
I clattered him around the temple with a wayward fist, hit him square on the jaw and then the nose with another barrage. He hit the deck and I jumped on top of him, throwing everything at him in mad onslaught of flailing limbs and spat curses. When I was finished, when I had exerted every last breath and every last morsel of energy, he was a mumbling, bloodied wreck on the floor.
I smiled, I had won, I had beaten him, I had my revenge. I looked up, towards my prize. Lisa was leaning against the wall, watching the bloodied entanglement with wide eyes. Her palm was covering the triangle shape of her pale pussy, her finger working vigorously underneath her legs. She was moaning, ready to climax.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.
She finished, came with the aftermath of the fight in her sights. She slid down the wall, slumped onto her backside, her legs sprayed open -- her moistened vagina displayed -- the hand that had pleasured her clit now running through her hair.
She shrugged at me. “I needed to finish,” she said simply.
I climbed off the beaten kid, looked from Lisa to his bloodied face. I shook my head slowly at her, a distasteful, disappointed look on my face. She didn’t seem to mind.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked.
She smiled, giggled almost hysterically. “You’re a weird one,” she told me.
I opened my mouth, closed it again. I shook my head, ran a hand through my sweaty hair and then let it droop lazily to my side. I wanted to turn away, knew that I should just leave the crazy bitch there. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t take my eyes off her, couldn’t ignore the fact that I had been looking for her, waiting for her, and here she was.
“Can we talk?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes, the smile sliding from her face. She stood, pulled up her jeans and then turned to me, a picture of indifference. “Talk. Talk. Talk,” she mocked. “That’s all you want to do, isn’t it?” she moved forward, stepped over her beaten lover and then regarded us both. “I wish he’d have won,” she said, nodding towards the writhing mess on the floor. “He didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to fuck.” She gave me one last distasteful look and then left the building. I heard her singing softly to herself outside, a melodic tone of crazy that slipped into the night and departed on a breath of wind.
7
I tried to phone her, she didn’t answer my calls. I texted her but she didn’t return my messages. I went around to her house, prepared to fight my way through again if I needed to, but she wasn’t answering the door.
I was a mess, had lost a lot of weight. I was gaunt, my eyes -- peppered with red blotches -- like sunken holes in my hollow head. The thought of her being with someone else was tearing me up, the images of her having sex with that prick in the flat-block was an image that haunted my nightmares -- whenever I actually managed to get to sleep.
It didn’t matter what she had said to me, didn’t matter how much of an evil bitch she had been, I still wanted her. I was more infatuated by her than I had ever been and the thoughts of her being with someone else only inflated that infatuation.
I lost my nerve with Andrew when he commented on my appearance. He suspected it was down to Lisa, possibly by the way my trancelike silences around the house were interrupted by nervous twitching whenever he mentioned her name. He told me I needed help, told me that Lisa wasn’t worth it, that she was an evil whore.
I hit him, grappled him to the floor and tried to give him the same treatment I gave the other person who I knew had slept with my angel. My brother had always been stronger than me and I was weak, a skinny, wasted mess of my former self. I didn’t have the spitting anger that had propelled me into victory against Lisa’s last conquest, and my brother was stronger than he had been. He tuned me over with ease, pinned my arms back, told me that what he was about to do was for my own good -- and because I deserved it -- then he beat the shit out of me.
I stayed on the living room floor and stared absently at the ceiling. I couldn’t stop myself from crying, tears of anger, loss and frustration. I was being torn apart inside because of someone I couldn’t stop loving, someone who didn’t, and probably wouldn’t ever, feel the same way about me.
A couple of weeks passed without contact. I lost more touch with reality, became even more distant. My brother wanted nothing more to do with me, had stopped trying to help me and my parents seemed to be turning the same way. They began with good intentions, wanted what was best for me, but after snapping at them, biting their heads off over simple things, they became weary of me. They tried to get me to see a doctor but I refused, starting an argument which ended in a painful shouting match, a handful of sore throats and a few broken ornaments. I was lucky they didn’t kick me out of the house, but, as I began to stay inside more, pining over Lisa, grumbling in my own dwindling sanity, they all began to stay away; finding overtime, eating out, taking more walks.
When Lisa finally answered one of my calls, I stuttered and mumbled my way through half a dozen sentences. It was the fourth call I had made to her that day, God knows how may that week, and I had been getting, and expecting, nothing but a dial tone.
“What do you want?” she asked sternly.
“You,” I told her simply. “I--” I started to tell her how we needed to talk, how we needed to discuss our relationship, whatever it was that we had going, but I didn’t want to scare her off. She had answered the phone and didn’t seem completely indifferent, so I guessed she was in one of her better, crazier, hornier moods. I decided to play on that, doing what I could to get her in my sights, to get her near me. “I thought you might want to come over,” I told her casually. “I have the house to myself,
there’s beer in the fridge...I have nothing to do all day.”
She pondered this briefly and then answered, “Sure, why not,” in a tone that was fueled by the suggestion of pep, an undercurrent of the crazy, beautiful girl I had fallen for. “I’ll be over soon.”
I was over the moon when I hung up, my mood lifted for the first time in what felt like an age. My mood had been so low, my personal worth so poor, that the boost that the phone call gave me was like a drug shot straight into my veins. I bolted off the sofa, sprinted to the kitchen and pulled some beers out of the fridge, lining them up methodically on the bench. I wanted to get her nicely lubricated, to soften her heart and her mind in the hope that I could finally talk to her, finally get her to be mine. I wanted to sleep with her, over the weeks of nothing and despair I had convinced myself that I would have been delighted just to kiss her or touch her again, but that was only because I never thought I would. Now that I knew I was going to have the chance to do that and more, I wanted to make sure I fully utilized it.
