by Amber Burns
I waited for Anna to leave, waving at her as she shut the door on her way out. Lorraine nodded in her direction, and then glanced back at me.
“She seems like a very good girl,” she said softly.
I exhaled loudly through my teeth.
“She is, way too good for me.” I sat forward with my elbows on my knees, “What do you want?”
She put on an offended expression again, but I knew it was exactly that, put on, she spluttered and stuttered.
“I, do I have to want something to find my only child after my husband dies?” She wiped a tear from her cheek.
I snorted, “I am so not buying this, you don’t just pitch up after disowning me and not trying to find me for more than twenty years. Not after you just happen to find out a childless and wealthy relative has died, I don’t know you, but I know I don’t trust you.”
It took a lot of effort for me not to welcome her back, and offer to give this vulnerable looking woman whatever she may need. There was still a deep part of me that wanted to fix things, but my brain was winning here. She sat silently as I watched her, looking at the dull hair and sallow skin, all the signs of poor nutrition and a lack of good health. I stood and ran my fingers through my hair.
“You should stay the night, it is getting late and I didn’t see a car, how did you get here?”
I heard my own voice, and it had softened. She met my eyes.
“I took a bus to Galveston and got a ride with a man who dropped me here. I don’t know where else I’d go Mickey.”
I closed my eyes tightly.
“Look, I am going to ask Annabelle to bring dinner for all of us, let’s get one thing straightened out though, please stop calling me Mickey, that boy is dead. He died when he was thirteen.”
She nodded.
“Okay, thank you.”
The spare bedroom was still in a habitable state, our packing had predominantly started in the kitchen and living room, leaving us another night or two of sleep space, but stupidly no cooking space. So Lorraine took a small bag to the room, and I left her to freshen up while I phoned Anna.
“Baby, I am sorry, I am letting her stay here tonight, can you possibly bring dinner for the three of us when you come home? I am in need of holding you, I never thought it would be hard to admit it, but I feel stronger with you around.”
Annabelle smiled broadly when she pushed the door open later. The sun was just setting, and I felt like a right rat for having admitted a weakness to the woman I most wanted to see me as a strong protector, my future wife of all things. She came up to me and kissed me where I sat on the couch with a box of books in front of me,.
“I am glad you need me, what else would be the point of getting married?” She asked grinning.
I hugged her, “Just don’t tell anyone. Can’t go looking like a wuss in front of others.”
I watched her unpack Chinese takeout onto the coffee table, and then she disappeared off down the passage to call Lorraine. She had pushed me back down to the couch when I had tried to stand instead. We all sat on the floor around the low table to eat, and it was Annabelle who broke the odd and uncomfortable silence that hung in the air like treacle.
“Lorraine, where have you been all these years if you don’t mind my asking? I don’t know too much about you because it’s a difficult subject for Michel.”
She asked this gently, with a hand on my arm, and I nodded at her, kissing her cheek. Lorraine looked from Annabelle to me, and back before she spoke.
“I can see you two are very happy together, and I’m glad.” She gulped down a mouthful of noodles, “After Michel left, his father lost his job, and we moved to a little shithole down South. It wasn’t the easiest time in our lives, having lost him, and then having no money.”
She stopped speaking to eat a bit more. When she continued, she wiped more tears from her eyes.
“When I heard Michel was back I immediately wanted to come and find him, but his father…” she trailed off, “His father refused, and then when he died I had to try and get things in order. I came as soon as I could.”
I ate my noodles in silence while this monologue was being delivered, listening to her speak. Her voice changed tones several times, and I tried to pick up any falsehood, but I couldn’t at that stage. She looked down at her food then and ate the rest of her meal in silence.
Annabelle nudged me, and I took a breath.
“I am glad you are here, even though it took so many years. I didn’t exactly have it easy you know. Um, I guess I need to put the past behind me. Lorraine, Annabelle and I are getting married when we get to our new home, the farm we have bought. It should be in a few months, would you like to come?”
A smile broke across her face, and she nodded vigorously.
“I would love to! More than anything!” She exclaimed.
When we went to bed I curled up against Annabelle and held her as she lay with her back against my chest.
“Thank you,” I whispered into her hair, “Thank you for being a calm voice of reason.”
I kissed her and adjusted my position as she turned and wiggled against me. She turned over and placed her small hands against my naked chest, and I felt her breasts, the soft satin of her naked skin on mine. She rubbed herself against me, and reached a hand down…
“I’ll sometimes be reason, and I’ll sometimes be lust… My roles alternate lover.”
***
She felt him stiffen in her hand and lifted her right leg to throw it over his thigh. They lay on their sides, and it was an awkward, yet incredibly intimate position. She kissed him, and while their lips were locked together she lifted her hips to slide onto him, enveloping his body in hers. Annabelle felt him shudder against her, and started slowly moving her hips. Michel breathed against her lips, and dug his fingers into the skin on her back.
“I love feeling you, being inside you,” he said.
She sighed and changed position, moving away from him to stand on her hands and knees.
“I want you behind me Michel,” she groaned.
He quickly moved behind her, and just as quickly shoved himself into her wet sex, burying himself in the warmth. Annabelle straightened in front of him, standing on her knees to hold on to the head board so that her back stretched up in front of him, she knew he liked the sight. He ran his hands down her spine and elicited delicious shivers from her, along with soft moans.
“Shh, she will hear us,” he said softly, his breath in her neck.
When Annabelle could not contain her sounds, he reached around to cover her mouth with a hand, crying out in surprise when she bit his fingers. It was not malicious, just a sharp and playful nip. Michel placed his free hand in the middle of her back and moved faster, and she clung to the headboard to stay upright.
She felt her orgasm building, the friction of his hard cock rubbing against just the right spot in that upright position, and the pressure of his hand on her mouth arousing her. She liked the mild feeling of helplessness, paired with his hand on her back, spanning almost the width of her waist, making her feel small next to him. She breathed hard, and stars formed in her vision as she closed her eyes. She bit down hard into his fingers as her back hollowed in front of him, the muscles contracting as she came. She heard him groan as she clenched down on him, and felt the pulsing in his member as he let go and spilled himself into her.
After they had both collapsed onto the sheets and caught their breath for a moment, Michel stood and put on a pair of shorts, then opened the doors that led out onto the porch straight from the bedroom. Annabelle joined him in the doorway. The lights were still out, and the night was pitch-black with nothing but the crescent moon to light the beach and landscape. As their ears adjusted, they both heard Lorraine’s voice in the dark, she was talking on a cellular phone.
“Yeah Brody, he is stinkin’ well-off. He has a house, has bought a farm, and is plannin’ a fancy, big wedding. They invited me. I am staying in the house with him and the fiancé.”
<
br /> She went quiet to listen to the other person.
“I think I can get a good amount out of him if I keep playing the role of woe-be-gone momma. I’m good at it, yeah. He is feeling sorry for me and will give me what I ask…”
At this point Michel turned from the door and walked back inside, Annabelle had felt the muscles in his back stiffen before he had left and followed him, closing the door. They slipped under the sheets, and she curled against his side. He sighed.
“I knew it, I wanted to believe differently, but I knew it deep down inside,” he said softly.
Annabelle stroked the hair from his face.
“I am sorry my love, I wanted to see the best in her too.”
They fell asleep eventually, but Michel was restless, and eventually Annabelle felt him leave the bed, and she knew he was going to sit on the beach. She left him, he needed space to think.
Lorraine walked into the lounge the next morning with a timid smile on her face, completely unaware that both Annabelle and Michel had heard her conversation with ‘Brody’. She seemed surprised to see them both sitting on the couch in the lounge already, and on the coffee table in front of Michel sat an envelope, and Annabelle had set out three cups of take-out coffee.
“Sit,” said Michel, harshly.
She frowned and sat on the edge of the chair facing the couple. Michel glared at her.
“Who’s Brody?” he asked, watching as the color drained from her face,
“He, um, how…” she faltered, falling over her words.
Annabelle interjected at that point.
“Lorraine, I highly advise honesty, we both overheard your phone call last night.”
Annabell watched as the other woman picked up a cup of coffee and exhaled harshly.
“I met him a few days after your father died, we are… Friends, you could call it.”
Annabelle drank her own coffee too, her one hand resting on Michel’s leg. When Michel spoke, the calm and measured tone of his voice was more terrifying than any amount of screaming and cursing could have been.
“Lorraine, I was willing to see the best in you, give you a roof over your head, and invite you to my wedding. After years of not knowing you, of you writing me off as a son, I wanted you in my life again, but you were here simply to get whatever you could because I was ‘stinking rich’ as you said to Brody.”
He picked up the envelope.
“This is enough cash to get a taxi to a station, buy a bus ticket, and go back to where you came from, I want you to leave and never come back to me again. Don’t contact me, or Annabelle, don’t phone, write, or arrive on my doorstep ever again.”
With finality he stood and walked out of the lounge into their main bedroom.
Annabelle watched as Lorraine sat, dumbstruck, and then said, “Go, even I wanted to see good in the mother of such a good man, but there is none. Leave.”
Lorraine stood, and a few minutes later left the house with her small bag. She stood ar the street until a taxi arrived, and looking back toward the house before getting into it once before climbing into the large yellow car.
15
Moving from the coast to the farm was a stressful undertaking, and for a few days both of them were snappy and short-tempered. The moving truck came and went, and they had to drive both their cars up. Her father had at last decided he would come, and his house had flown off the market, sold to a young couple who bought both it and Annabelle’s land as a parcel. He’d used the same moving truck as them to transport his few things, and when the day arrived to drive up in convoy, all three cars were parked outside Michel’s house.
Annabelle handed her dad a cup of coffee and package of muffins, cookies and sandwiches. She had prepared the same for them, and by nine in the morning they were on the road. Annabelle turned on the music, and sang along to Bruce Springsteen while she followed Michel’s car at a comfortable speed.
They arrived at the house hours later, tired, sweaty from the heat in the cars, and ready for a rest. Michel was the first to jump out of his car, and to their surprise, Art and Eva were there. They were welcomed into the kitchen, and all sat down at the table. Michel had negotiated buying the house with a lot of the furniture and appliances, so there was a kettle and coffee machine. Eva had placed a plate of cookies and mugs of coffee on the table, and though they had their own drive ahead, they sat and had coffee with Michel, Annabelle and Roy.
When they finally departed, Annabelle set about helping her dad to get himself settled as much as he could, and when the moving truck pulled in shortly before dark, his were the first goods unloaded. Both Anna and Michel worked without rest for a good three hours getting his bed ready and only then got their own place marginally sorted out.
They were too tired to speak to each other, let alone even think of anything physical, and shortly before Michel was overcome with sleep he patted Annabelle’s back.
“How about we christen the house tomorrow okay?”
She could barely raise her head, and mumbled her assent, “Sure…” Then fell soundly asleep.
Unpacking the moving truck was an easy task, and once they had removed the few large items, things went smoothly. Annabelle sorted through linen and unpacked clothing while Michel unpacked the kitchen. When they were done at midday, they went for a walk around the property, both stopping in front of the large barn.
“Mich… Have you ever, you know, wanted to have a ‘roll in the hay’?” Annabelle asked with a grin making air quotes around her innuendo.
Michel noted how she blushed pink when she looked at him. A naughty twinkle in his eyes answered her question. He suddenly bent forward, grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and ran into the barn with her protesting loudly.
“Michel! Put me down you savage!” She squealed and giggled.
With a firm smack to her bottom, and a “Hush woman, you’ll alert your father!” He carried her up to the loft and dropped her squealing in a pile of fresh hay.
He leaned over her and pulled her t-shirt over her head, lay her back down on the prickly, yet soft hay, then stood to pull off his own clothing. Annabelle leaned back on her elbows, watching Michel as he undressed. She watched the muscles of his chest ripple, and when he turned, the strong muscles in his back. He had trimmed down a lot, and had the beautiful triangular physique, the broad shoulders and narrow hips. She bit her lip when she caught sight of the curvature of his ass, the whole package was quite a sight, from his floppy dark hair, tattooed back and forearms, to the back and chest muscles. It was enough to reduce any woman to a puddle. When he lowered himself to unbutton her jeans, she giggled again.
“I feel like a naughty school girl,” she exclaimed breathlessly when he tossed the fabric aside.
Michel tickled her mercilessly, “You look like one too!”
Annabelle squirmed under him, “Mercy! Oh mercy please! Stop tickling me, I can’t breathe.”
Michel stopped tickling her and took her lips with his, kissing her with a bruising strength, and opening her mouth with his, tasting their coffee from about an hour ago on her tongue, together with cookies.
“You’re delicious, I could just devour you, whole.”
She moaned into his mouth as he pushed her legs apart, finding her sex with his fingers, stroking her, parting her soft lips with his rough hand. She moved her hips as he found her clitoris, grinding herself against him. She could feel the wetness on his fingers, her wetness, and the evidence that she wanted him. In the time they had been together she had learned things about her body Malcolm had never shown her.
Now she felt his hard, probing cock at the opening of her sex, and moved to let him slide into her, groaning involuntarily. He was a big man and every time was still a stretch as her body took him in. Annabelle moved her hips as he thrusted, meeting his pelvis, the friction perfect. Michel had moved his hand under the small of her back and held her hips tilted.
Her orgasm washed over her so quickly, it sent shivers down
her spine, she was so surprised she raked her nails down Michel’s back. He hollowed his back, and cried out in sudden shock at the pain.
“Oh, ow!”
But didn’t stop. In fact, something primal in him seemed to unhinge, and he lifted her legs, pinning them over her left shoulder. The position made things very intense for Annabelle, and she had to bite back her cries as he pounded harshly into her, the hay now feeling as though it cut into her skin.
Against all odds, and amidst the pain of the hay on her back and the discomfort of the position, Annabelle felt another orgasm building deep in her pelvis. She reached for Michel, and held tightly onto his upper arms. When she came this time, it ripped through her so intensely her lower back ached, and she felt liquid run down her legs, and rush between them. Michel groaned and let out a hard gasp when her muscles tightened and his arms gave way as he came. He let go of her legs, and she turned on her side.
