Anissa's Redemption

by Zack Love

  Anissa’s fingers touched her lips, as if she were asking herself whether her professor’s lips really had just been there. “It feels nice,” she finally said, in a bit of a daze. “Your place seems so much bigger when it’s not full of party guests... And yet more intimate with just the two of us here.”

  Pushing the door open with my free hand, I led her into my bedroom. “This is where I sleep.” Her eyes widened as she took a moment to absorb the palatial space, starting with the king-sized bed facing a huge, flat-screen TV, and then scanning her eyes across to the floor-to-ceiling window view of the Manhattan skyline. The glittering lights from the city illuminated the room like twinkling stars.

  Anissa stood there, as if in a trance for a moment. “It’s breathtaking... How do you ever leave this place?” she asked in awed amusement, as her thumb swished against the inside of my palm.

  “There are definitely times when I’d rather just stay in bed all morning, looking out that window. But Icarus is there watching it for me when my adult responsibilities have to pull me away... Speaking of which, there he is.” With my other hand, I pointed to the birdcage by the window. “It’s my honor to introduce you to him.”

  We walked over to Icarus and Anissa’s face brightened when she saw the sparrow. I took off my suit jacket and threw it onto a nearby chair.

  She moved her head by the cage for a closer look. Icarus fidgeted a bit in the path of her stare. “What an adorable little bird! He seems to be healing nicely too,” she noted.

  “Yes. A part of me will be really torn when he’s well enough to be released.”

  “I can see how you’d get attached to him – especially now that he shares your bedroom.”

  “Indeed,” I admitted, pressing my hand on Anissa’s mid-back. “When he’s fully healed and I can set him free, it won’t be easy to find a replacement.” I caressed her spine downward, and then around to her hip, where I rested my hand.

  “Well, if I had to be caged in a bedroom, this place would suit me just fine,” she remarked, with an ironic smile.

  “Good to know,” I replied. “Speaking of birds in my bedroom, why don’t we test out your flying skills?” I asked, looking intently into her eyes.

  She gave me an amused look of curiosity. “What do you mean?”

  I picked her up into my arms and held her aloft. “Well, you’re heavier than my sparrow, but still light enough for me to take you flying,” I observed jokingly. She seemed to enjoy resting in the air, on top of my arms, judging from her comfortable smile and the way she casually draped her arm around my neck, as if its main purpose had been to serve as an armrest.

  “Do you really fly?”

  “Almost. I’m still getting my pilot’s license for a single-engine Cessna, but soon I’ll be able to carry some precious cargo with me for weekend getaways.”

  “And until then?”

  “Until then... This!” I spun her around twice and she released a loud giggle of surprised glee. Then I carried her over to the bed. I wanted to show her that an older man could be just as spontaneous, spirited, and physically strong as someone younger. It would be a distinct pleasure to teach her the benefits of being with a more experienced gentleman.

  I kicked off my shoes. They each fell to the floor with a thud, making Anissa realize that she was still wearing hers on my bed. “Oops,” she said, with an adorably guilty expression. “Don’t worry, my heels are as clean as... a Manhattan sidewalk.”

  We shared a laugh, as I moved down to her feet and gently removed her shoes. Two more thuds. My hands moved up to her ankles and started to rub them, as I made my way up her calf. I heard her breathing grow more intense. She would be mine tonight.

  I massaged her legs, gradually moving upwards, as her thighs quivered under my touch and she let out little gasps of pleasure. She placed her hand on my shoulder and then started running her fingers through my hair, as I eventually slid below the hem of her dress and delicately caressed the tender skin of her upper thighs.

  As she began to quietly moan, I moved my hand over her panties, and gently explored with my fingers. The fabric felt hot and damp. I turned Anissa to her side, enough to reach the zipper on the back of her dress, easing it down slowly. Taking hold of its top, I pulled her dress downwards. She raised her hips helpfully, so that I could pull it down the length of her legs until the garment was no longer a barrier between us. She looked stunning in just her panties and bra.

  Trembling a little, her hands found the top button of my dress shirt and unfastened it with slightly uncertain movements. She worked her way down as I brushed my thumbs across her pebbled nipples through the soft fabric of her bra. When she finished unbuttoning my shirt, I removed and tossed it aside. Looking deeply into her eyes, I reached around and unclasped her bra, sliding the straps gently down her arms until her chest was bare.

  I let my eyes drop to appreciate the loveliness of her breasts, and remarked, almost reverently, “You’re far more beautiful than I had imagined.”

  “Thank you... As are you,” she replied, in a breathless voice, timidly taking my hand and bringing it back to her breasts.

  “Well, I guess it’s not the first time that you’ve seen – ” I began, with a self-deprecating smile, referring to the shirtless photos of me that she had seen in the tabloids.

  “Julien, no,” she cut me off, placing her fingers lightly against my lips to quiet me. “This is infinitely better.”

  “Are you saying I need to work on my selfie skills?” I joked, trying to cover my embarrassment with humor. She bit her lip to hold back a smile, but with my own huge grin, I gave her permission to laugh with me about it. And when we finally did, it was liberating. I felt closer to her than ever.

  “I love that we’re so in tune with each other,” she said with an affectionate smile, uncannily mirroring my thoughts.

  I brought my lips to hers and we traded lingering kisses as my hand found her breasts once more, pleasuring her in exactly the way that I now knew she liked. Anissa’s breathing grew heavier again, and I began to trail kisses along her delicate neck, moving downward to gently nip at her collarbone, eliciting an excited gasp that spurred me on. Finally reaching her beautiful breasts, now rising and falling with her rapid breathing, I began to tease her nipples with my tongue, feeling them harden even more. She moaned and reached out, blindly searching for my pants. Reluctantly, I released her from my mouth and sat up in order to help her find what she was looking for. She unfastened the button and then unzipped the fly. I took my pants off and discarded them to the side of the bed, returning my mouth to her breasts, alternating between them. My hand traveled down her stomach and near her waistline, where I eventually slipped my hand into her panties, and explored below and around her waist, until my fingers felt the raised skin of a scar shaped in a straight line. Her hand reflexively came down on mine, as if to stop me.

  “That’s from Syria,” she said. “The car accident.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I moved my hand away from the area. It didn’t seem like the kind of scar – in shape or placement – that one would get from a car accident, but I hardly wanted to dwell on such a sore topic just as we were getting so intimate.

  “It’s OK,” she said, sounding embarrassed.

  “Show me where to touch you,” I urged her gently. She tentatively took my hand and guided it back to her lower abdomen.

  We resumed our passionate kissing as my hands continued tracing the curves of her body, around her hips, over her breasts, and then back down to her waistline. Her breathing grew faster and heavier and I eventually slipped my hand down under her panties once more, pausing to make sure that she was comfortable with it. The way that she pushed her hips against me told me that this was a touch that she liked. I caressed her pussy delicately, until my fingers reached the wet heat of her entrance. They hovered teasingly, every now and then tickling her lips. Her thighs trembled as I found her clit, and she began to moan and writhe, as I played. Again, her hand searched around
my waist area, so I took off my boxers and discarded those as well. While my hands were occupied with that task, she removed her panties. I saw her stealing glances at my hard cock and it dawned on me that she had never seen a man unclothed before. She noticed me watching her and shyly looked away.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” I said, in a quiet voice.

  She looked back. “Will you show me?” she asked, gazing up at me uncertainly. Without a word, I took her hand and guided it to my erection, teaching her how I liked to be touched. She seemed fascinated by my every reaction, and I knew that eventually she would be empowered by her ability to please a man this way. For me, there was something especially titillating about the tentative movements of her innocent hands, knowing that this was her first time touching a man so intimately. When the pleasure became nearly excruciating, I moved until I was hovering above her, and then dipped down to lick her behind her ears and on her neck, as she wrapped her legs around my thigh and held onto my erection more firmly. I leaned closer to her, as if to kiss her, but teased her by stopping just before our lips could meet. “Do you want to do this?” I whispered.

  “Yes, I do... I’m ready, Julien. I want to feel you. All of you.”

  “Good. Because I really want to do this with you too. But unlike you, I’m not a virgin, so we should use protection,” I added, with a wry smile.

  “I wasn’t planning to give birth to my first child as a college sophomore.” She smiled back at me.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I replied in amusement. “So, except for the part where I put on a condom, I’m going to let you lead, so that you’re as comfortable as possible.”

  “But how will I know how to lead?” she asked, her hand starting to stroke my erection in the way that I had shown her.

  “Well, I’ll guide you. Although I see that you’re already taking matters into your own hands,” I replied, to her amusement. “So now you just have to decide when you’re ready.”

  She put her other hand on my chest, and I caressed her cheek softly before dipping to kiss her, while reaching down to pleasure her with my hands once again. I knew that, on her first time, Anissa probably wouldn’t climax from intercourse alone, so I planned to help her orgasm with my fingers, but she stopped me. Her breathing became erratic and her hips more forceful as they thrust against me. She pulled back and looked into my eyes pleadingly. I couldn’t deny either one of us any longer. I knelt above her and gently urged her legs apart.

  “Tell me to stop, if I hurt you,” I said, looking deeply into her eyes as I positioned myself above her and guided my cock to her entrance. She nodded and reached out to pull me to her, so I slowly lowered myself, using all of my self-control to hold back from thrusting into her. Bit by bit she accommodated me, her tight pussy exquisite around my cock. There was a brief moment of resistance, and then she released a gentle gasp as I filled her completely. The slightly stunned look in her eyes, already hazy with desire, is one that I will never forget. In that moment, Anissa was breathtaking.

  As I slowly began to move my hips, she tossed her head back and moaned. We quickly found a rhythm, as if our bodies had always known one another, like we were meant to be joined together like this, as one. I could sense that her pleasure was as exquisite as mine, but that she was holding back somehow. I encouraged her to pleasure herself as we made love, hoping that she would feel as physically satisfied as possible. I badly wanted the two of us to travel into oblivion together. It wasn’t meant to be, though, and eventually I could no longer hold back. I called out her name in a strangled voice as I came, collapsing on her and quickly rolling aside and pulling her into my arms.

  Later, when her head was nestled peacefully in the crook of my arm, I became troubled by an old dilemma: in order to hide my violent nightmares from her, should I ask her to sleep in another room, as I had always done with all of the other women I’ve had sex with?

  I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Maybe I would get lucky and not have the nightmare. Or maybe I’d stay up all night thinking about it – since it takes very little to keep me awake – and then I’d try to make up for the lost sleep by napping after she leaves.

  We eventually exchanged some sweet goodnights and I pulled the blanket over us. I became drowsy with Anissa still enveloped by my arm. She eventually turned to face the opposite direction, tempting me to take my limb back, if only to give it some proper circulation again. But she was holding onto it with her hands, so I just adjusted a bit until the weight of her head was almost entirely on her pillow. A few minutes later, my eyes began to feel a bit droopy, but I vaguely noticed that Anissa was whispering something. Maybe that’s why she turned her back to me. I couldn’t hear much of what she was saying, and didn’t understand whatever I did manage to hear because it was in another language – probably Arabic. For a moment, I thought maybe she was talking in her sleep or something, but then, several minutes after the whispering stopped, she turned back towards me. I pretended to be asleep, so that she wouldn’t worry about whether I had witnessed the whispering that she clearly had been trying to conceal.

  As I lay there with Anissa’s warm naked body cozied up next to mine, I felt myself gradually drifting towards a sleepy state. And then I was in a dream. It started off in a rather surreal way. I was in my Psychology and Markets class, delivering my lecture, when Anissa raised her hand and asked if she could analyze my nightmare for the class.

  “No, that’s extremely private,” I replied. “No one knows about my nightmares – except my therapist, and I trusted her with that information only very recently.” The class then burst into laughter as students started joking amongst themselves about how their psychology professor was himself getting psychological treatment. Anissa then very dramatically stood up and called the class to order with so much passion and presence that everyone quieted down.

  “Now tell me about your nightmares, Professor Morales. It’s the only way forward. For you. And for us,” she said, in front of the class.

  “How can I tell you about them when you’re still calling me Professor Morales?” I asked her. “And in front of all these students?”

  “Julien, what are you talking about? It’s just the two of us,” she said. “Are you feeling OK? Look around!” And sure enough, when I looked around the room, it was just she and I. “Now tell me already. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Yes, Anissa. I do trust you. But I forgot to shave this morning. Come with me to the bathroom and I’ll tell you about it while I shave.” She agreed and followed me out of the classroom and over to the nearby men’s bathroom. She locked the door and it was just the two of us in the bathroom. I removed my necktie, and undid a few buttons of my dress shirt. Then I pulled out a razor from my suit jacket and began to shave.

  “But Julien, don’t you need to apply shaving cream first?” she asked.

  “No, watch how I do it. My Latino skin doesn’t mind – even without any shaving cream,” I joked. I proceeded methodically and carefully to move the razor across my cheeks, converting my five o’clock shadow into a clean shave.

  “Oh, I like how you did that – it looks very nice. And it really suits that image of the distinguished and successful businessman that I always associate with you,” she noted flirtatiously.

  But then, as I looked in the mirror, I became fixated on some hairs near my carotid artery that were still there. I pushed the blade deep against my neck to shave them off, and then blood squirted out.

  “Julien, STOP – you’re cutting yourself!” Anissa cried out in alarm.

  “No, it’s OK... I just need to get these last bristles,” I replied, vigorously scraping up the different parts of my neck with the blade, until blood was pouring out of my neck, spraying all over the mirror, and filling up the sink. “Just a little more, and I can finish myself off here. Just clean up after me, will you?”

  I kept slashing up my neck and face with the razor as Anissa cried out horrible shrieks until I had severed off my own head and it was bobbing up an
d down in the blood-filled sink.

  I screamed in horror and flung the blanket off me, shooting upright and hyperventilating.

  Anissa woke up, and gently put her hand on my back. “What’s wrong, Julien? A nightmare?”

  “Yeah... I’m... ” I was still disoriented by the transition to reality, but thankful to be awake again, as I realized that I was in my bed and not the university bathroom. “I’m sorry I woke you up... I...Oh, fuck... That was such a... Such a dreadful dream... ”

  Her hand caressed my back. “It’s OK... I have them too.” She held my head and kissed it.

  Chapter 3: Anissa

  Saturday, April 12, 2014

  To My Dearest,

  I’m so behind – not just because I’ve been too busy living life to write about it, but also because there’s just so much more to tell you these days.

  I barely slept last night, so I’m quite exhausted at the moment, but I need to catch you up at least a little as I try to sort things out in my head. Last night, I finally gave myself to Julien (as he insisted I now call him, unless other students are around). The lead-up to the moment was magical in every respect, but it was physically painful at times, and a part of me was – and still is – uneasy about the whole thing for many reasons. My past still haunts me when I sleep, although I saw that – much to my surprise – his does as well. There was also some guilt because of my feelings for Michael, even though he himself had requested that we keep things “light and casual.” I still felt slightly unfaithful about my intimacy with Julien, and – even worse for my guilty conscience – I could hardly blame Julien for what happened; he was the perfect gentleman at every step of the way, which of course made him that much more irresistible.

  At first, I thought that I would ask to sleep in a different room, so that he wouldn’t overhear my nightly ritual. But I felt so warm and comfortable near him, that I decided just to wait until he fell asleep, and then turn away and whisper extra quietly. After I finished begging my parents not to enter the car that would end up crashing, I turned back towards Julien, and was relieved to see that he had been sleeping and so probably hadn’t heard anything.