You feel your heart stopping sometimes. You figure either you are just so far out of your body that you can’t feel it, or that what she is doing to you is killing you. You can’t decide, though: should you beg her to stop, or beg her to continue? You leave the decision to her, your heart flapping around like some dying fish. You are surprised to find that your mouth is on her; sliding around her wetness you taste her.
Then you lie gasping beside each other. That is all you do, gasp for successive minutes. She would leave, but it is her house. You would leave but for the fact that you can’t move let alone create a thought. Your head is inside you. Your head is inside her. Virginie wants to go back to that hunt. She wants to be the wraith that hides from you, and joins up occasionally for this. But she can no more usher you to the door, than you can her.
There has always been a certain randomness to your ways. The next day you are swept from her house easily by the arrival of her brother. He leers at you as much as is possible for quite an attractive man. You take your chances with the outside world. You find yourself, somewhat ashamedly, wondering if anything will have changed. Nothing has. The espresso that you have in fifteen minutes is just as creamy as you remember. And the sky looks just the same. Suffice to say you are wildly disappointed. This is as romantic as you get. You hop a ride on a passing scooter and head out of the city limits still smelling of Virginie’s soap and shampoo. You imagine it leaving a trail in the air as you go. You are like Hansel or Gretel leaving a trail to get home by. People on the street eating up the smell like birds.
Unraveling the Stone
Kristen E. Porter
The first time I saw Melissa was down at Jake’s Tavern. I showed up late that Friday hoping to run into Billy. I heard he caught his old lady in the sack with his best friend and up and left her, so I figured he might be up for some comforting. I was watching him shoot pool when Melissa walked in. I wasn’t alone in my stare; the whole bar took notice of her. I heard Red, the bartender, mutter under his breath, “Goddamned dagger,” as the guys at the bar laughed.
I had never seen a woman quite like her before. Her white T-shirt was clean and crisp, sleeves rolled up just above her bicep. Her worn leather pants hugged her frame perfectly and melted into the blackness of thick boots, scuffed around the edges but polished up real nice. She certainly wouldn’t be what one would call pretty, but there was something handsome about her. The buzz was that she just bought old man Harris’ farm, so I knew she must have been from out of town. Hell, everyone knew that land’s been barren for years.
I couldn’t help but stare at her. I finished smoking the last cigarette I had, and grabbed my keys to head out when she began walking toward me. Her stride was strong and purposeful and when her eyes caught mine, it was like she was looking right through me. As she was about to walk past my table, the scent of her cologne made me feel so dizzy the keys dropped right out of my hand onto the floor. She stopped, and bent down to pick them up. She didn’t say a word, just placed them in my hand, winked and left. I nervously looked around, relieved to find the guys at the bar oblivious. That’s when Billy gave a holler over: “Hope you didn’t touch her, might rub off on ya!” Again, the barflies belted out their laughter. Nothing makes a bunch of guys more nerved up than a woman like her. Full of the confidence they lacked. Somehow fucks with their manhood, I think.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t get her out of my thoughts. Daydreams, night dreams, she snuck into all of them. Her smell and the feel of her hand as she placed the keys into mine were burned into my memory. About a week after that, I saw her again. I was in town picking up a few bags of feed and struggling to get them to my car when she pulled up next to me in a blue 1963 Ford pickup, with just enough rust peeking through the paint you knew it was lived in. She jumped out the door and rushed over to me.
“Let me help you with that, little lady. Shouldn’t your old man be lugging this home for you?” she asked as she lifted the bags into my trunk. She was the first person to ever call me a lady and I liked it.
“Yeah, right,” I muttered. “I seem to have skipped the husband part and gone straight into having the kids.”
“Oh, sorry for the intrusion. I just assumed that a pretty lady like you would have some fella to help out. I’ll mind my business, forgive me,” she said, looking down.
“It’s all right. Times like these that a husband sure would come in handy, at least to lug this stuff out to the barn for me,” I replied, laughing.
“Well, I’ve got some time right now, why don’t I follow you home and help you with this load at least,” she said as she winked. That same damn wink that got her stuck in my head to begin with.
“Thanks, that would be great,” I said, wondering where this was all going.
She was a great help and a perfect gentleman, if I can call her that. Ever since that Sunday, she’s been dropping by for coffee, a cold drink, and on occasion for a whisky after the kids are in bed.
One particular day I heard the knock on the door as I finished washing the breakfast dishes.
“Come in,” I called out as I dried my hands on my worn apron. Getting both kids out to school on time was an ordeal, but for now the house was quiet. Jimmy wasn’t quite used to the routine of juggling morning chores on a schedule, having just started first grade a few weeks ago. Ben had it down pat, being a few years older, and was never much trouble, besides playing with his eggs instead of eating them.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” she said as she swaggered into the kitchen. Today her hair was freshly cut, shaved close in back, with a little bit of bang hanging over her green eyes.
“This is a nice surprise,” I said as I began to brush away the stray hairs from her collar.
“I’ve got another surprise for you,” she said. “Do you have time to take a walk with me and the boys?” The boys were her dogs, but they were more like children to her. A golden named Buck and some sort of herder breed named Toby.
I grabbed my sweater as we headed out to the trail behind the house. Melissa gave a whistle as Buck and Toby jumped out of the back of the pickup to lead the way. When we got down to the river, she stopped so the boys could take a drink. She held out a clenched fist and smiled at me.
“What’s that?” I asked as my gaze caressed her muscular arm. Her sun-drenched hands were weathered from years of mucking goat pens. You could begin to see the first signs of arthritis in her knuckles from milking during the damp rainy seasons.
“It’s a gift,” she replied, opening up the palm of my hand and dropping a small newspaper-wrapped item into it. As I opened the paper, a stone fell out. Its cool gray surface glittered with the rising sun.
“Thanks,” I replied. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but it felt like something special nonetheless.
“It’s shaped like a heart,” she said as she turned the rock upside down in my hand.
I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. Maybe it was because this was clearly a move on her part, but probably more so because I wanted it. As I looked at the stone heart I thought of mine, hardened by the loss of a lifetime of dreams. It made me think of my grandmother. She was a wise woman, and a beautiful one at that. When I was a little girl she’d scoop me up into her apron and sit us under the crab apple tree in the backyard. Under that tree she taught me as much about life’s truths as she could. One thing she always told me was this: “Suzie, hearts come boxed or bruised. Can’t have ‘em any other way.” Gram nicknamed me Suzie on account of singing that song “Wake Up Little Suzie” at the end of my nap time, even though my real name is Contessa. Mom thought a royal sounding name would give me a better chance of getting the hell out of Missouri some day. People always just call me Tess though.
Melissa and I hiked farther along the path next to the river as I turned the rock over and over again in my hand. The feel of the dewy damp leaves underneath my feet, the weight of the small stone in my hand and the scent of her beside me made my insides twist up. But it was like that
from the very first moment I saw her.
She finally asked me out one afternoon while we were sitting on my front porch in the wooden swing. I mentioned that I could not remember ever having seen a shooting star before. She couldn’t believe it, with me living out here on these lands all my life. She asked me to get a babysitter for the evening and she’d take me stargazing. Although I wasn’t sure if it was a date in the proper sense of the word, I felt excited about it all the same. The fact that she was a woman never much mattered to me and I tried not to think about how it would matter to everyone else.
As that day melted into night my anticipation grew. My thoughts went around and around in my head, as I wondered what to expect. Would she kiss me? Would I like it? I had only kissed a girl once before, as a kid. JoBeth and I were climbing up the empty flagpole that stood in front of our old school. When we finally wore ourselves out she said rather matter-of-factly, “Do you feel that tingling in your privates, Tess?” I did. “Well,” she went on to say, “that’s what it feels like when you fall in love.” This was all news to me, having never felt anything quite like it before. “Does it go away?” I asked. “Yup, it sure will, but you have to kiss first,” she said. So we put our lips against each other and moved our heads all around like on TV. I never told JoBeth that the kissing made it worse for me. Figured that meant there was something wrong with me and that it was better to say nothing.
Melissa picked me up that night and for once I was glad there was so much land between the houses up here. Since arriving in town, she was all folks could talk about and I didn’t want anyone to be putting bad thoughts into Ben and Jimmy’s heads about the whole thing. She opened up the truck door for me and I got in.
“No boys tonight?” I asked as I noticed the dog hair was meticulously cleaned off the front seat.
“Nope, got a sitter for them,” she laughed. “Tonight is just for you and me.”
She drove out to Riley’s field and parked. We climbed into the back of the flatbed and talked as we passed the bottle of Jameson’s between us. The liquid burned my throat each time it went down, but made my insides feel warm. It was good to feel desire again after so many years.
The only way I can describe the sky is what I imagine must be the color they call indigo. The deep purple blanket surrounded me in the crispness of the night. I could feel her gaze as it began to burrow through my skin. I felt the heat rising in my face and sweat began to bead between my breasts. The smooth skin of her hand grazed my thigh.
I turned my face toward hers as her eyes met mine. The scent of the honeysuckle swept me up into a moment that I wasn’t quite sure I even wanted as my head instinctually moved toward hers. I took her mouth against mine and kissed her hard, feeling the sharpness of her teeth beneath the flesh of her lips. Her hand slowly moved from my thigh over my belly and settled on my throat. The firmness of her grasp across my neck made my mouth water and each swallow more pronounced. Her other hand found its way up under my dress as she moved her legs up over mine. Her weight felt solid against me. My chest heaved to her firm touch as her breathy voice sent shivers through my ear.
“Baby, I want you so bad. Let me take you. I’ll be gentle,” she whispered.
Gentle? If she only knew the roughness of the hands that have had their way with me over the years. In gas station bathrooms and backseats of cars. The emptiness that went along with “drive-in sex.” That’s what Gram called it. “Those boys want nothin’ from ya but drive-in sex,” she’d say. “They drive in and they drive out. When are ya gonna learn, Suzie? Ain’t it bad enough you got one baby to care for?”
Melissa’s hands felt good, felt right, like nothing had ever before. She began to knead my breasts and responded to my moan by moving the thin cotton that covered them aside with her teeth. My nipples hardened in the open night air. Her tongue moved across my flesh like a skimmer on silky water. With each sigh she bit harder, leaving me breathless. The weight of her small breasts across my chest felt good and I moved my hands down to feel her.
“Don’t do that,” she pleaded urgently as she grabbed my wrist and abruptly pulled it taut above my head. I gasped from the thrill of her taking control. In a strange way, her forcefulness made me feel safe, protected.
Our lips met and our tongues danced to silent song. Her body released its tightness and softened back into mine. Her hipbones melted into my body like a pat of butter over piping hot pancakes. With her arm above my head still holding my wrist, I could smell the sweet musky scent from her armpit. Her smell. I wanted to take it in so deep it would be impossible to forget. As she kissed me, her thigh ground into me, and my hips responded by rising and falling to her motion. Her hand moved aside the damp material covering my crotch, and behind my shut eyes I could see the veins lining her hands and arms that I had stared at so many times. The confidence, power, and strength in her blood was bulging just beneath the surface, awaiting its release.
Her fingers played with my untrimmed hair, soft, like it was meant to be. Her fingers slid along my swollen labia, full and succulent.
“Girl, you are so wet,” she moaned softly. Hearing her voice speak about my pleasure, the pleasure she was providing, just about pushed me over the edge. My anxieties about being with a woman were suddenly overpowered by an exhilaration that somehow felt strange and comfortable at the same time. The pressure in my pussy ached.
“I want to feel you. Let me take you into me, baby, please. Don’t make me wait any longer,” I begged, hoping for even one finger to calm the throb inside of me.
As she entered me, my insides expanded like the pop of an ice cube as it enters a glass of lemonade on a hot day. My hands were burning to touch her, her skin, her breasts. She kept them away, overpowering each reach I made, which only made me want her more.
Her thumb rubbed ever so slightly on my swollen clit as it began to twitch. I felt myself opening up to her, and for more reasons than one, this was new for me. I relaxed into receiving her. At the same time, my thighs tightened as my hips bucked and my cunt clenched around her fingers. I came in waves as her fingers continued rocking me from the inside.
“Are you crying?” she asked, her lashes fluttering against mine in a butterfly kiss.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I answered. Sometimes a release takes you by surprise and shatters the very foundation you thought you were standing on. Our coming together was like being immersed in a great thunderstorm, surging with electricity. Wet with power. And I always did prefer being wrapped in the arms of a storm. Gram said I was a born storm lover, having come into the world during one of the worst flash floods Jackson County had ever seen. She’d say, “Nothing more free than a lightning storm, Suzie, and you got the storm in your veins.”
We went on like that for months. Hiding out in fields and woods. Sneaking around like teenagers. Getting to know even the messiest parts of each other. Our sex became more intense, more aggressive with each piece of armor removed. Like peeling an onion, each layer of insecurity that came away made me cry, but Melissa always held me through it. I began to understand that although I wasn’t sure if I had always been a lesbian, I was sure that I loved her. As our shooting-star searches became more frequent, my desperation to make love to her as she did me began to consume me. Thoughts of my fingers in secret steamy places and the desire for her in my mouth grew beyond just a want to a need.
One night I sent the kids over to the neighbors for a sleepover. As usual I was finishing up dishes when she snuck in and put her arms around my waist from behind. Her mouth on the nape of my neck sent shivers down to the pit of my stomach. She grabbed my hips and thrust her pelvis into my ass so that I could feel her packing.
I released her hands from my hips and without words led her to my bedroom. The smell of the passing rain wafted through the open windows, as the movement of the gauze drapes created dancing shadows along the stark walls. As I began to rip at her shirt she spun me around and pushed my hands down on the bed. Nothing had ever come close to this feelin
g of being taken by her. I heard her unzip her jeans as she placed one hand on the back of my head, grabbing a mound of my thick curls. She kicked my legs open with her boot and pushed my torso toward the bed.
“Baby, I’m gonna fuck you just like you like it. I’m gonna watch my hard cock slide in and out of your wet pussy.” She knew I melted when she talked sex talk. I gasped as I took in her hard thrust. She understood that the call to fuck fiercely and without restraint is sometimes as deep as the need to be tender. When I felt she was worked up enough, I reached down and began to rub my hard clit with my middle finger. It didn’t take much as she talked me through my orgasm. My body shook violently as my head pressed into the bed, squelching my screams of pleasure. Her full body weight fell upon my back as she caught her breath.
“Oh, baby, I love it that way. Your ass in the air. The way your hair moves when you throw your head back. Seeing me inside your cunt.” She sighed.
I used all my force to flip her over on the bed and straddled her hips. Her cock was shining with my juices as I carefully began to remove the harness.
“That’s okay baby, I’ll go in the bathroom to do that,” she said as she reached for my wrist. I was so used to this routine I cut her off at the pass and yanked her arms above her head.
“No, it’s not okay. I want to make you feel good. I want to have your taste in my mouth,” I begged.
“It doesn’t work like that, Tess,” she said firmly. Gram used to say that telling me no was the best way to make sure I did exactly what it was I was being told not to do. This was no different.
“C’mon, you are so unfair to me,” I pleaded jokingly.
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