Hetty: An Angel Avenue Spin-Off

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  He moves in, nudges my lips with his, nothing more, and holds it there.

  I grab his forearm with my wet hand, my eyes shut, our noses side by side as he stays close, our lips apart but near.

  “You have no idea how much I want to get in there with you.”

  I open my eyes and see him full-on smiling into mine. “You smell clean enough, lover.”

  He chuckles. “You know what I bloody mean.”

  “Not tonight, baby.”

  He gives me a little nod and backs out of the room, staring at my breasts for a last look. I grab my wine glass off the side and shoo him out.

  IN the night I wake up, the remnants of a chilling dream having throttled me awake. I look around and there’s nothing of the terrors I just experienced in sleep. After talking myself down off the ledge, I feel a body behind me move and tighten its arms around me.

  All evening I could tell that it was killing him that I was in this maudlin mood but he put aside his own feelings to be here for me. He made me a killer dinner and afterwards, lay on the sofa with me watching films as I drank wine and fed us both chocolate.

  We’d kiss occasionally and I’d feel his chest swell with hope that he might be able to get inside me, but then I’d roll back the other way and give the TV my attention once more.

  We’re in bed now, him in his underpants and me in my drawers and the Nirvana t-shirt I just don’t want to take off.

  The warmth of him radiates into me and it occurs to me that I’m falling for Joe Jones, my ex-teacher’s stepson, my boss’s son, a guy three or four years younger than me. Five school years between us!

  A week ago I never would’ve imagined myself ending up in bed with Joe, let alone quickly falling for him. I can’t stop this burning feeling in my groin whenever I’m around him, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before with any other guy. I’ve always been attracted to him but in the past something told me he was out of bounds… Well, anyway, now look at us!

  If only I could stop thinking about Jan’s words. She made me feel like a victim again. Like there’s never going to be any way of truly escaping what happened to me. As though I’ll always be defined by it, as though all my decisions will be informed by my past, whether I want them to be or not. I’m marred – most especially emotionally, mentally. I still have no control over what happened to me and I’ll never have control because it’s shaped me and it’ll always be with me. My therapist says that at times like this I shouldn’t try to bury myself beneath drink or sex, but right now, in these lonely, dark moments, I feel like I need Joe. I more than need him. I desire him. I care about him. I really like him. This isn’t me self-destructing or harming, this is me needing a man who has made me feel alive for the first time in my life.

  I roll over into him and wrap my leg around his body. Kissing his chest, he groans, mumbling my name, not yet awake. I pull off the Nirvana t-shirt and toss it across the room.

  “Joe, wake up, Joe…” I whisper in his ear, sucking his earlobe into my mouth.

  Kissing along his jaw, I feel him start to harden against me. “Joe, you’re enjoying this too much…”

  He chuckles quietly but I silence him with my lips on his, Joe’s tongue invading my mouth like a tornado when I’m least expecting it.

  I pull away, dazed and disoriented. He’s looking up into my eyes, so expectant. “Joe…”

  “Etta,” he says, his hands holding my sides.

  “Have you ever licked a woman?”

  “What? Wh–”

  “Oral.”

  His eyes widen. “No. Have you?”

  I burst out laughing. The laugh turns into guffawing which I try to bury in his shoulder.

  He deftly rolls us over so he’s looking down into my eyes which are streaming with tears of laughter.

  “Has anyone licked you before?”

  I shake my head, side to side.

  I’m devoured by his greedy mouth the moment he recognises the truth in my eyes. He pins me down, hands through mine, my legs wrapping around his back as he kisses me ferociously and possessively. I throw my head back when his kisses trail down my throat, through the valley of my breasts and over my stomach. He tongues my navel and growls, “Tell me you’re mine, Etta.”

  “Why?” I pant, breathless. He’s looking up at me from between my legs.

  “If any other man touched you now, I’d kill ’em. You have to tell me you’re mine. You have to otherwise I’ll kill a man.”

  “So…” I pout, dragging this out. “…by being yours, I’d be performing a public service?”

  “You’d be doing me a great service, believe me.”

  “I’ll need a night to think it over. I’ll tell you in the morning.” He’s pulling my knickers down my legs. “Your performance right now might sway it–”

  I’m silenced when his beard brushes my inner thigh, making me feel hotter and wetter down there than I’ve ever felt. I’m throbbing and desperate for him.

  “Joe…”

  “You make me crazy, baby. I am so fucked up over you.” He kisses my inner thighs, his hands all over my long legs. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You make me smile all the time.”

  He kisses my hipbones, kisses my navel again, kisses all over my stomach and I let my arms go above my head and my body arches towards him. “You smell so good, so good…”

  His first lick starts at my entrance and slides up to my crest, stopping there, his mouth closing over my clit to suck gently. I judder with this move and whimper.

  I cover my face with my hands and shriek when he flicks his tongue up and down, over my clit.

  “Is that it, baby?” he asks, needing to know.

  “Do. Not. Stop.” I lift my head to look down on him. He looks drunk on lust. I reach my hands out for his and he grips my fingers. Lolling my legs down his back, I beg, “Please, lover. God, I’m so yours.”

  “Etta…”

  His smooth tongue flicks up and down, twirling, incredible heat passing over the most sensitive part of my whole body. I dig my toes in his back and arch, over and over. When I can’t take it anymore, I let myself go.

  “Joe… don’t stop, oh my god, don’t stop, I’m coming…”

  The noises I make aren’t normal. The expression on my face isn’t right, but the feel of him there, is. I’m drenched in my desire for him as I enjoy the most powerful orgasm of my life.

  I watch him rise up and push down his boxers, his erection releasing. I’m desperate for him in my arms. He doesn’t even take his underpants all the way off, there’s no time for it.

  He comes to me, his mouth foraging for thanks from my lips, which I give him. I’ll take and I’ll give whatever I can. He tastes of lust. I cup his shoulder blades in my hands and he wriggles into place, pushing straight into me, my hips rising to meet him, my legs around his back.

  I’m breathless as he stares down into my eyes.

  “I’m on fire. I’m going to be loud.”

  “I’m going to fuck you, beautiful.” He pins my arms above me, looking straight into my eyes. “Be loud.”

  He rears back and thrusts and the sensitivity of my sex forces my eyes closed and my heart to beat even harder. It’s like he’s made a furnace of me and now he’s filling me full of his ardent, stiff desire, so hard it’s almost painful, but in the best possible way.

  “You ready?” he asks, as I try to catch my breath.

  “Yes…”

  He starts fucking me hard and I scream, try to wriggle away, try to fight back, but he fucks me relentlessly and I milk him all the time he’s pumping into me, his eyes searing into mine.

  He’s pumping so hard and fast, his eyes on fire with lust, his body dripping with sweat, his limbs working hard to overtake me, to overpower and pleasure me. He’s doing just that but I really need a little more to make orgasm again.

  “You like me, Etta? You like me inside you?”

  “I love it.”

  “I love you,” he growls, his mouth on my breasts
, grabbing and tugging, sucking and kneading. “I fucking love you, Henrietta. So much.”

  He comes back to me, kissing me, wildly.

  I squeeze his hands and beg, “Joe.”

  “Baby?”

  “Make me come, please? I’m dying here. Please, make me come again. Please.”

  “How?”

  “Slower, gentler, put your arms around me. I need you.”

  He lifts his eyes to mine to find them pouring with tears. I can’t say the words yet. My barriers won’t let me; the self-preservation thing is in charge, even now. I hope my tears tell him enough.

  He’s shaking in my arms, shaking so much I’m worried for him. He strokes his fingers over my face and kisses my cheek.

  “Show me, baby. Show me everything. I want everything with you.”

  I push him up a bit, showing him to tuck his legs under himself. “My g-spot’s on the upper wall, you have to make love to her and the clit. Angle yourself just right… yes,” I moan. “Yes…”

  I rub my clit for him, violent tremors starting to grip me. He tosses his head back, his long arms shaking as he lifts me from the bed and into his arms.

  We’re facing one another as we both come, my hand still kneading my spoiled flesh, his hands on my buttocks. He crows as he comes, a painful yearning in his features.

  I wrap my arms tight around him, kissing and stroking his face. He refuses to let go of me, holding my bum tight in his hands, my body still gripping and kneading his.

  “My dad already knows,” he mutters.

  “How?” Shame shakes my foundations.

  “He’s known for months I’m in love with you. He thought I was depressed, I told him I was in love with you.”

  “My poor Joe.” I stroke my hands through his hair.

  “Today… I mean, last night, he knew… he saw the change in me… he knows I love you. He knew that you were the only thing that could put a smile on my face this wide.”

  “And he… he’s okay with it?”

  “Nah, but he will be. You’ll see.”

  “You think?” The thought of losing Joe is intolerable.

  “When he sees how much we care for one another.”

  I nod, tears streaming down my face. “Yes.”

  We lie in the sheets, my body wrapped round his, my cheek on his chest. I can’t describe this feeling of safety, wrapped between two strong and powerful arms. It feels so good, it’s terrifying. I want him but I also need him.

  “Joe?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why do you love me?” I lift up and look into his eyes.

  “Just do,” he replies, only sincerity there.

  He curls my hair around one finger as we lie together.

  “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Joe.”

  “I’d rather die than hurt you.”

  I hide my face against his chest and bury my guilt like I’ve buried everything else. I have to try to be his equal, I have to try to be as good and as loyal and as loving as he is.

  I do love him but, I’m still not sure it’s enough.

  IT’S early when I wake, which is good. Joe’s in deep sleep, snoring. He smells wonderful. Dried sweat in his skin, some light cologne he wears too, barely there. I sneak out of his arms, take a quick shower and pull on jeans and a black, crepe de chine blouse.

  He stirs, sitting up as I put make-up on at the dressing table.

  “What’s going on, babe?”

  “It’s only seven. Go back to sleep.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To tie something off. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  I walk over and cup his chin, kissing his plump mouth.

  He’s all wide eyes. “I’ll come with you.”

  “I have to do this on my own.”

  He smiles and lies back, plumping the cushions underneath him. “You don’t have to, but you will.”

  “I will.”

  Leaving the room I walk into the spare room next door, which I always close the door on.

  I’m grabbing the bags of clothes from inside the room when he walks up behind me, hands on my waist. I freeze, as does he. I feel his eyes taking it all in, hear his breath catching. There’s nothing I can hide. Everything’s everywhere, sewing mannequins scattered, racks full, bits strewn all over.

  “What is all this?”

  I breathe, it’s all I can do.

  “It’s my hobby.” Grabbing the bags, I snatch them up. “I’ll be back.”

  He grabs my arm, moving into me. Holding my cheeks he kisses me hard, then studies me intently. “I love you.”

  “I’ll lock you in, the spare key’s in the kitchen drawer.”

  “Be quick.”

  Grabbing the bags I push out of the room and once outside, I throw the boot door open on my car, chucking all the clothes in. In days of old I would have lit up right about now, sucking on a fag as I drove to university, to a placement, or to my foster parents’. I want a smoke this morning but I won’t have one. I remember how difficult it was to give them up.

  Throwing myself into the car I turn Radiohead up loud and set off, feeling Joe’s eyes watch me leave.

  It’s a couple of minutes later I’m pulling up at the back of the charity shop. I walk up to the door with the bags and dump them, my note safety-pinned to one of the bags, reading:

  Floor and Jan,

  Sorry, something’s come up and I can’t help out anymore.

  But I hope you like what I’ve done with some of these.

  Het x

  I don’t hang about, getting back into my car, the engine still running.

  I manage to park on the Avenue and from Tesco, I buy some hot sandwiches from the hot counter and some coffees from the Costa machine.

  I’m back home before I know it.

  Joe’s in the doorway, dressed and waiting.

  He looks worried.

  I pass him his bacon sandwich and cappuccino as I pass him.

  “Do you want to get out of the city today?”

  “If you want,” he replies.

  I sense a tone so I look at him. “What?”

  “That room…” He dares to bring it up.

  “You’ve got a problem with it?”

  “No, I–”

  “So we have no problem, end of discussion.”

  “You’ve got some money… I mean, there’s equipment in there,” he says, a statement, rather than a question.

  “Grandparents,” I answer.

  “I’ve got some too,” he explains, “not much, but some.” There’s a long pause, and he adds, “Mum.”

  I only want to put a stick between my fingers and suck on it right now. This tension is intolerable.

  “Do you wanna be at uni or are you doing that to escape who you really are?” The words fall out of me before I can stop them.

  He looks pissed off because I’ve turned it round on him – and we both know I’m right.

  “Yeah, so you don’t ask me about the room, and I won’t ask why you gave up a promising football career, all right?”

  He glares. “Don’t give me this shit, Het. You’re talented.”

  “Fuck you. Are you coming with me today, or not?”

  He huffs, his coffee and food so far untouched. “Where?”

  “The North Yorkshire coast. I go when I need to clear my head.”

  “I said I’d be back–”

  “I usually stop overnight. It’s up to you.” I shrug.

  “I’ll text him later, I’ll come.”

  “Come on then, you can eat in the car.”

  “Het?” He stops me in my tracks as I’m getting my stuff together.

  “Yep.” I look up into his eyes.

  “I can’t stand it when you shut down.”

  “I’ll try harder, for you. But I can’t make promises.”

  “Come here.”

  He folds me in his arms, pressing his cheek against mine so hard, I’ll probably have stubble rash.

  “My dad’s
gonna fucking freak that I’m skipping out all the time,” he says, laughing infectiously. His chortling laugh fills me with happiness and I laugh too, I can’t help it.

  “It’s a good job you’re super cute and sexy.” I wink, forgiving his invasion of my spare room earlier.

  My light-heartedness eases his fears and we leave the house, jumping into the car with smiles on our faces instead.

  He makes me so happy that I’ve already realised, when we’re not happy with one another, it’s entirely the worst thing in the whole world.

  I LEAVE THE car and him to get a good look at the place from a distance. He’s slept more or less the whole way here. I haven’t minded. Driving helps me switch off and vacate. This is just a stop in the road before reaching Robin Hood’s Bay but I always stop first, breathe in the air, taking in the place from a distance. One of the first places Liza and my foster parents brought me was here after they took me on. John and Carol have been really good to me, too good, considering I was once their daughter’s bully. But that’s Liza – always helping wounded birds, even ones that have tried to peck her in defence. John and Carol are in their sixties now and tried to conceive for years before finally having Liza in their early forties. She was an only child and had always wanted a sister. She persuaded them. And I was added to her broken-winged club.

  The car door shuts and I watch him stretch, his midriff revealed as his shirt rides up. He’s got a solid rack of muscles under there – just gorgeous.

  He swings his arms around me, clutching me tight, so tight I’m enveloped in his warmth against the cold of this high-topped cliff upon which we’re standing. I love the heather-topped moors around here, I love the views, the cleanness, the clarity – the mangled city jungle seeming far away.

  He nuzzles my throat and kisses me, purring, seeking. A rush of love washes over me and I turn in his arms, throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. I find no resistance, his mouth opening, his tongue tangling with mine.

  “I missed you,” he says, his eyes glistening against the strong wind.

  “I was right next to you.”

  “But I was in my dreams.”

  “Do you like it?” I ask him, pointing to the sleepy fishing village below. There are not many visitors this time of year.