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Subject: {ASSM} new - 'Memories of Things to Come' [MF, cons, rom]
Date: Sun, 6 Feb 2000 19:10:03 -0500
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Standard disclaimers: This story is a work of fiction; no
character within is a depiction of any real person, living or dead. No
event or person described within exists outside of the writer's
imagination. It didn't happen. But it could have.
Copyright (c) (2000) retained by the author and this post is for
private use of the reader only as long as no modifications are made.
If this piece of fiction is indeed considered illegal for you to
read or possess in your jurisdiction, please destroy it immediately.
Memories of Things to Come
The buzzer was screaming intermittently, that's what had brought
his out of a deep sleep, his first deep, relaxing wonderful enjoyable
sleep in the last two weeks. 'Goddamn it', was his only reaction. He
threw the pillow off his head and forced himself up to stumble along
the wall. Out the door, along the hall, when his foot smashed against
the leg of the hall table he uttered a muffled curse. Finally, he made
it to the intercom next to the door.
"Hello," he grumbled into the grill. "Whoever this is, it's 2:15
in the morning. Keep that in mind when you answer." This had better
be phenomenally good to disturb him at this hour.
There was a hesitation, an intake of breath he could hear through
the scratch of the speaker. "Hi, Billy." Even through the lousy sound
of the intercom, the voice was unmistakable.
Oh, fuck. Well, that was good enough for him. "Hi Christine," he
said, surprising himself by keeping his voice level. "What do you
want?" Six months weren't nearly long enough.
"C'mon, Billy, buzz me in," she replied.
"Did the check bounce?" he asked. He made sure to allow a little
bit of venom into his voice on that one. The separation agreement
hadn't been exactly unfair, but it had still stung.
"Damn it, Billy! Please." Her voice cracked a little, and he
could tell how much it cost her. "Please let me in, Billy," she almost
whispered.
I'm not doing this, he thought. I'm not doing this. Not tonight.
Not now. I don't need this. A long sigh and his hand came down on the
buzzer to let her in. He looked around the room and walked through the
hall into the living room. Opening up a cabinet to reveal a stereo, he
flipped through his CD collection quickly and pulled the one he was
looking for back in a forgotten corner. Soon the warm strains of a
classical guitar were issuing forth from the speakers.
He wondered for a moment if she would pick up the reference. The
same CD was playing the day she told him she was leaving. She'd
probably miss it entirely, that wasn't the point. He remembered.
With a start he realized she was already knocking on the door. As
a secondary thought, he became aware that he was standing naked in the
middle of his living room. Fuck it, she could wait. He walked,
slowly, into the bedroom, pulled on a pair of boxers, and found a T-
shirt. He draped it over his head as he walked back to the door,
stubbing his other toe on the same damned table. If he hadn't still
been half-asleep, he would have thought twice about presenting a first
impression of himself hobbling at the door, cursing under his breath
and the shirt tangled around his shoulders. Unfortunately, he hadn't
awakened enough to take that into consideration.
She gaped at him through the open door and he could see
immediately that things weren't good. She wiped her hand across her
cheek, and with a start, he realized she had been crying. Shit. From
the looks of her eyes, she'd been crying for a while. After six
months, there were remarkably few changes. Her hair was longer. The
sweats and a baseball cap were a little more downscale than the
conservative business suit she had been wearing for their last meeting.
It took him a moment to realize the shivering wasn't solely due to the
snowflakes still clinging in her hair.
"Hi, Billy," she whispered in a small voice. Looking past his
shoulder, she gazed into the hallway and then back up into his face.
"Can I come in?"
He nodded, grudgingly and moved aside, ushering her into the
hallway with a raised arm. "Come in, Chris." He led her into the
living room where she stood, taking in the surroundings with an
abstracted gaze.
"Nice place," she offered after a moment.
"It's not too bad," he said briefly.
She turned to look at him directly. "You look good, Billy.
You've lost weight."
"Thank you." Nodding in response, he kept his face and his voice
indifferent as he answered.
"How've you been," she tried again.
"Fine, just fine." An obvious and transparent lie, but... He
debated the idea of leaving it at that and watching her twist in the
wind for a few minutes, but he still held out hopes of getting back to
sleep and salvaging something of his Saturday, if nothing else. "Why
are you here, Christine?"
She tried to smile, "What, I can't come by and just say hello?"
Grimacing, he turned and started to walk back out to the door,
"No, you can't. Not at two in the morning when you haven't said a word
to me in six months, I don't think so. Maybe you should just go back
home."
She snapped back at the coldness in his voice and looked at him,
then without warning, tears started to streak their way down her
cheeks. Standing in the middle of the room, she began to sob, "I
can't... I can't go home." She wrapped her arms around herself,
looking utterly lost. "Terry is cheating on me."
"What happened, Chris?" Taking two steps back towards her, he
leaned on the archway into the room to listen, but he really didn't
think he wanted to be drawn into this, whatever this actually was.
"Terry..." She halted and rubbed the heels of her hands into her
eyes, knocking the ball cap from her head. She began again, trying to
keep her voice steady but not quite succeeding. "I was supposed to be
in LA. But we wrapped up the project early and I wanted to come home
for the weekend as a surprise..." she trailed off. Uh-oh. He could
see where this was going and he was right. He didn't want to be drawn
into this, not even a little. But it was too late. He was too late.
Against every screaming instinct, he walked back into the room and
motioned her to a chair. To his surprise, she shook her head vehemently
and stayed rooted to the spot, sobbing in the middle of the room.
"She's cheating on me, Billy. I just... I just ran. I left my
bags sitting there in the hallway and just ran."
The revelation didn't thrill him as much as it should have. There
was a certain amount of poetic justice and irony enough to drip from
the edge of the blade that was obviously cutting into her, but he
couldn't bring himself to glory in it the way he wanted to. And
certainly not the way he felt he was entitled to. He'd loved her too
long. All the clever biting little comments he memorized evaporated in
his mind. All the sarcastic and ironic deflections he had planned,
swore to himself that he'd use if the tables were ever turned simply
disappeared when he looked at her, when he saw the pain and
embarrassment and shame in her eyes. Her hand flew out in a throwaway
gesture that pulled at every string in him.
Swearing a vile little imprecation under his breath, he cast one
look into the corner to check the clock. To hell with it, Saturday was
already shot. And anything screwing up is worth screwing up
completely. Walking over to her, he pulled the heavy overcoat from her
shoulders and tossed it on the back of a chair before taking her arm
and guiding her to the couch. He made his way to the bar, poured two
glasses of scotch, and returned, handing her one.
She wouldn't meet his eyes as he fell into the chair on the other
side of the coffee table. Taking a long sip from the glass, she sat
rigidly on the end of the couch with her free hand balled into a tight
fist in her lap. Her eyes were downcast and her head was bowed, but he
could see the way her body shook from the sobs.
"Billy, I'm sorry, I have no right barging in on you like this.
But, I just didn't know what to do. Or where to go. I barely had
enough cash to pay the hack for the ride. I didn't even realize I told
him this address until he pulled up."
"Do you need money for a hotel room, Chris?" he asked, keeping his
voice level. "You know that's not a problem."
"No damnit, I have my wallet in my coat. All my credit cards are
there. I... I just... I needed to come and see you, Billy."
"Don't you think there are other places that you probably should
have gone, Chris? I mean, don't you think this is a little, well,
odd?"
She laughed bitterly, grimacing as she swallowed the last of her
scotch. "Who else would I come to, Billy? You're my best friend.
Even now, after everything, you're still my best friend."
"Chris, that would be a lot more convincing if you had been
willing to at least return my calls over the last six months," he said
with a little heat.
"I know, I know," she whispered, the tears starting again. "I'm
sorry. I thought... and Terry said she was so uncomfortable with me
talking to you. It's not an excuse, Billy. I know that. I know I was
wrong. But she really seemed to think that you were going to steal me
away."
He shook his head as he sipped from the scotch. Let it go, it's
not worth it. "I know, Chris. I know. It's in the past. And you're
right, you know, I am your friend. No matter what." Well, that didn't
hurt or anything to admit, he thought with a wince. Lifting himself to
his feet, he set the empty glass down on the coffee table. "Do you
want to stay here tonight?"
She just nodded looking very small, hunched down into herself.
"Yeah," he replied. God knows he had the room. "Come on, I'll
show you around." He walked her through the apartment. And accepted
her compliments for the decorating. He remained noncommittal, showing
her one of the spare bedrooms.
He had taken care of all of the immediate necessities. It's
amazing how far down your horizon narrows when 'immediate' is two in
the morning. He reset the coffeepot in the kitchen. There wasn't a
chance in hell of being up at 8:00 now and he hated the burned taste it
got when it sat too long on the heating element.
As he walked back down the hallway, she slipped out of the
bathroom behind him; he turned to say goodnight and almost tripped.
She had changed out of her sweats and had skinned into one of his
shirts he had given her. The sight brought back entirely too many
memories; far too many to have to deal with at this time of day and in
his frame of mind.
"Thank you, Billy," she said simply.
He nodded, not quite trusting his voice to speak at that moment.
Her arms came up but he fended her hug off by gripping her wrists and
leaning forward to kiss her cheek softly. Eyes wide, she looked up at
him, "Please, Billy."
He shook his head, "No, Chris. Not... Not just yet." Feeling
her body against his, even in a chaste hug was not something, he needed
right now. It wasn't something he thought he could even handle at the
moment. "Not yet," he repeated in a fractured voice. She nodded,
accepting what he said at face value, although her eyes showed a deep
disappointment.
He made it back to his bed without any further pitfalls yawning
open before him. A comfortable return to sleep, however, proved much
more difficult to negotiate. Restless, he tossed for what seemed like
a long, long time. There were too many memories boiling up, and it made
an ugly bowl of stew that early in the morning. Dozing, he came
suddenly, fully awake when he heard a footstep in the hall. For a
moment he thought about an intruder until it came back to him. Right.
Christine. He rolled over again, trying to dismiss the whole thing
from his mind long enough to get back to sleep. The footsteps went up
the hall towards the living room. After a few moments, he heard her
returning. Instead of passing down the hall however, the steps paused
outside his door. Please keep going, he thought. But he wasn't that
lucky, not by a long shot. The door slid open almost silently and
although his back was to the door, he knew she was standing there,
silhouetted in the dim light of the hallway.
"Billy? Are you awake?" Her voice was soft and hoarse. She'd
obviously been crying again. And as she stepped into his bedroom, he
could make out the hitches in her breath that revealed that she was
still fighting back the sobs. "Billy," she called uncertainly, almost
in a whisper. A few steps more brought her to the side of the bed.
Still he lay there silently, refusing to turn or answer. There
wasn't much of a chance to fool her into thinking that he was still
asleep. They'd been too long together, and six months isn't enough to
erase that sort of ingrained memory. He could still read every nuance
of her face and body, and had no illusions that he was any more
cryptic.
"Billy, I know you're awake." The sound of her sniffles and sobs
were tearing at his heart.
"What is it, Chris?"
"I'm sorry Billy. I'm so sorry. I never knew I made you feel
like this. I didn't know... I'm sorry, God, Billy, I'm so sorry."
Her crying came in wracking sobs and they tore at him.
Tears began to leak out under his tightly closed lids, but as much
as it cost him, he managed to keep his voice level. "I know,
Christine. There's no way you could have known." He knew if he rolled
over, he'd see her standing next to the bed the tears rolling down her
face. Forlorn and abandoned. That's what she was feeling now. He
knew. He knew it entirely too well. And as much as he wanted to turn
and reach out to her, he couldn't. For it is cold and dark and I have
lost my way.
"Please, Billy," she asked, brokenly. "I need..." her voice
dissolved into sobs once again.
'...To even the score with Terry,' he finished her sentence in his
head He didn't know how to find his way back and more importantly, he
was afraid that the first step would crumble away beneath his weight..
"Go to bed, Christine," he managed to force out. "It's late, and we
both need to get some sleep."
"Billy..." she pulled back the covers but his hand reached out
behind him to hold them tight.
"Go to bed, Christine," he said as gently as he could.
With a wail and a curse, she turned on her heels and ran from the
room. He listened to her footsteps recede down the hallway and waited
for the door to her room to slam. He wasn't disappointed. Pulling the
sheets up around him, he buried his face in the pillow and continued to
cry silently as he stared into the darkness outside his window. He
finally fell asleep as the first lights of the new day broke across the
skyline in the east.
A few hours of fitful sleep didn't do much to improve either his
frame of mind or his emotions. But when the sun cleared the roof of
the building next door, he really didn't have much choice. The smell
of coffee didn't hurt either. Shuffling down the hall he heard the
water running in the shower next to her bedroom, at least he wasn't the
only one who was up. The clock on the kitchen wall said it was nearly
ten, but it felt much, much earlier to him. He got his coffee and
found that Christine had already retrieved the paper. With a groan, he
sat in one of the chairs at the table and spread the paper out.
Engrossed in the paper and his weekend ritual, he didn't notice her
arrival in the kitchen until a drop of water splattered on the page.
With a start, he looked up and saw her leaning over the table with a
subdued smile on her face.
"Morning, bright eyes," she greeted him. Wearing the sweats from
yesterday, she didn't look all that rested, but it couldn't be any
worse than how he looked this morning.
He grunted what he hoped sounded like a polite response and tried
to get his voice working. "Morning, Chris. How are you?"
She shrugged. "Tired. Strung out. Emotionally exhausted," she
answered honestly. "But I'll survive." She went to the counter to get
her own coffee. A tiny sip and she smiled at him. "You always, always
have the best coffee."
He shrugged dismissively, "You know where to get it."
That resulted in her shaking her head. "I've tried. It's not the
same," she disagreed. She changed subjects after another sip. "I
called Terry this morning. She said she tried calling about a dozen
times last night."
He nodded, "I turned off the phones last night before I went to
bed. Sorry, I forgot to turn them back on when you showed up." He
didn't comment about how much more uncomplicated his life would be if
there had been a way to turn of the intercom.
"No, it's okay. I probably wouldn't have been able to handle it
last night." Her eyes flashed but she didn't mention the episode in
his bedroom. Well, if she wasn't going to bring it up, he was just as
glad to leave it alone as well. He wasn't sure how he felt about it,
much less being able to talk about it to her. "In any case," she
continued in a rush, "We're going to get together and talk this
through."
He nodded slowly, turning the idea over in his head, "You sure
you're up to it, this quick, I mean?"
A quick wan smile. "Better now than later, don't you think?" She
said with a shrug; as she turned she started combing her hair out.
The out of place normalcy of the moment threatened to overwhelm
him. He couldn't count the number of days they'd had that had started
almost exactly this way. If I had a nickel, he thought distractedly.
"When's the um..." he searched wildly for the appropriate term.
"Conference," he finished lamely.
Glance up at the clock she looked a little surprised. "About
twenty minutes. Damn, I didn't realize it was this late. Be right
back," she called as she dashed out of the kitchen.
Shaking his head, he concentrated on his coffee and paper. Or at
least he tried. But she was back in just a few minutes, to grab up her
coffee again for the last sips. Hesitantly, she looked over the rim of
the cup. "Are you going to be here?"
Uh-oh. "She's not coming here is she?" he asked with a start.
For the first time, he heard her laugh a real, deep-throated
laugh. Full and rich and vibrant and it cut right through him. "Oh,
God, Billy, you should have seen your face. No. She's not coming
here; I'm going to meet her at Perelli's on Fifth," she said with a
smile, naming a very trendy coffeehouse that was only a couple of
blocks or so away. An embarrassed little smile crossed her face, "I
wasn't sure if you were going to be up before I left, and I don't have
the cash for a cab ride. Besides," she said after a pause. "I didn't
want to go home right away anyway." He nodded his understanding of
that, having moved out of the apartment even before Christine had.
"Well, yeah, I'll be here, all day." He'd write the museum a check
instead of going to the fundraiser auction. A big one.
"Okay," Christine nodded. "I just wanted to be able to let you
know how it went, you know." She stood again, leaned across the table,
and before he could protest, kissed him very softly. 'Thank you Billy,
for everything. I had no right showing up like this. And you had
every reason to slam the door in my face. Thank you."
Summoning up his strength he nodded and told her she was welcome.
With a smile, she turned and headed for the front door. Almost without
realizing it, he found himself following her out the hall and seeing
her out the door.
He stood against the doorframe as she walked the few steps towards
the elevator, turning back to look him in the eye.
"Wish me luck?"
A smile concealed a flash of pain, "You don't need my luck, C.C.
You'll handle whatever comes along. I've got enormous faith in you."
She laughed, waved, and went into the elevator as he stepped back
through the doorway. And as it closed with a muted click he wondered
how long it would be till he saw her again.
As it turned out, not that long. He had buried himself in back
bedroom he had turned into an office, checking his messages and
gathering up reports to be read for the next week. Just about a half
hour after she left, just as he was stacking the reports he'd have to
go through, the phone rang. It turned out to be the building doorman.
Only at night did the building rely on the buzzer to let people in.
"Mr. Matheson, this is George, downstairs."
"Hello George, what's up?"
"Well, sir, you have a visitor, a Miss Waters. She... uhhh... She
doesn't look very well at the moment, sir."
Shit. "Okay, George, send her up."
He met her at the door, still clad in his T-shirt and shorts.
When she got off the elevator, he knew something very serious had
happened. She was carrying an overnight bag and her face was dreadful.
Tight control was written all over her face, and the façade showed
every sign of shattering. She managed to stave off the collapse for
exactly two steps past the doorway. As he closed the door and followed
her into the living room, he watched as she headed directly for the
bar. She was nice enough to pour two glasses although he did sort of
balk, at least internally, at the idea of sipping a scotch at ten in
the morning. Oh well, I can always nurse it. He surreptitiously added
a couple of ice cubes and walked over to the same chair as before.
She swallowed the first glass quickly, sitting in the couch
looking tiny in the heavy coat that was still draped over her
shoulders. The tears were washing down over her cheeks and it took her
several minutes to get her breath enough to be able to talk. He sat
and waited and watched, trying not to push or prod at her, to allow her
to get it out when and how she could.
Eventually, she settled and stuttered out an explanation. Instead
of coming to try and work things out, Terry had come to close things
off, to try to 'explain her situation'. "She said the time apart when
I travel was just too much. She needed companionship," she spit out
venomously. "Some little slut at the gym, I think." She was literally
shaking with rage and pain and hate and shame. He didn't say a word,
not yet. "Terry was so sad and so sorry. She actually cried when she
sat there and told me how badly she felt. The bitch."
He sat with her and listened to the anger and hurt pour out of
her, and also prevented her from having more than two drinks. When she
started winding down, he asked her diffidently about the overnight bag.
"Oh, Billy, she packed some of my stuff and brought it with her,"
she said, the tears erupting again. "It's her apartment, I moved in
with her when we... when we split. She told me that it was easier to
move in with her. We'd find a new, bigger place when her lease was
up." She sniffed and rubbed her sleeve across her face. She'd been
tearing through the box of Kleenex he'd given her throughout the
conversation. He hadn't realized. He had simply assumed that she and
Terry had moved in to a new place, together when Christine left him.
"So, that means..."
"That means that I'm officially homeless," she whispered. It
wasn't quite so bad as that, he knew. "It's going to take weeks to
find someplace new." That was true enough. He watched her carefully,
and suddenly knew what she was going to say. "Billy, please could I
stay..."
"God, Christine, you don't ask much do you? Last night was one
thing, but... Come on."
"Billy, please. I have nowhere else to go. I don't... You don't
know what it's like to have this..." She trailed out of words when she
saw the look in his face.
"Don't I?"
He decided it looked exactly as if she had run headlong into a
brick wall. All in all, it was actually rather satisfying.
"Oh, god. Ohmygod. Oh..." She took off out of the room and he
heard the door to the bathroom slam open.
Following at a slower pace, he came around the corner and saw her
hunched over the toilet, losing everything. He sighed and crouched down
next to her, brushing the tendrils back from her face and sliding his
hand under her stomach to help support her as she retched. He kept his
voice quiet and soothing, telling her everything would be okay.
Eventually, there wasn't anything more to come up, but the heaves kept
going for a little longer, as they were wont to do. She was completely
wrung out and drenched in sweat from the exertion.
Helping her up, he led her to his bathroom. She was still crying,
but quietly, the edge of hysteria gone. She mumbled continual apologies
over and over. In a gentle voice, he told her to get a shower, and then
slipped out to leave her to her own devices. He started a pot of water
for tea and then grabbed the bag she had left in the living room.
Hopefully Terry had packed a good selection of things. If not, they'd
improvise. The water was boiling; he could hear the whistle building
in the kitchen. He made up a cup and thought for a moment before
adding a shot of brandy to it. It certainly couldn't hurt.
Carrying it back into his bedroom, he found her emerging from the
steamy bathroom, wrapped in a thick bath sheet. He stifled an
appreciative growl and handed her the tea with firm instructions to get
some sleep. Surprisingly enough, she didn't argue. She must have felt
as bad as she looked. He finally received the hug she had tried to
deliver, before he could dodge it. Christine walked out and he stood
in the room for a long moment with his mind out wandering of its own
accord before he managed to get himself moving. He cleaned the
bathroom and picked up a few of the reports that he had been planning
to read.
With a sigh and a fresh cup of coffee, he planted himself in the
den with the television on and started to read. Unfortunately, the
caffeine proved no match for the emotional roller coaster of the past
twelve hours. Felt more like twelve days. He drifted off to sleep,
lying back on the couch with one of his reports flat on his chest.
Two hours later, he woke with a feeling as if someone was trying
to drive a knife through his neck. The couch was comfortable for
sitting, but no so wonderful for sleeping. He groaned as he rolled
out, standing and trying to stretch the knots out, not very
successfully. Wandering through the apartment, he started a new pot of
coffee and took the opportunity to grab a shower while it brewed. With
a brief smile, he found a set of sweats after emerging from the shower
and skinned into them quickly. He poured himself a cup for the fresh
coffee and, after a moment's reflection, poured a second. Christine
should probably get up soon.
He carried her cup with him and went to give her a stir. He gave
a perfunctory knock and had the door halfway open when he heard her
stirring. She was stretched out on the bed with the blankets tangled
around her. It was an inspiring sight.
Her eyes blinked a couple of times as she turned to look at him.
A smile spread its way across her lips when she saw the steaming mug in
his hand.
"Hi, Billy." Her voice was still sleep fogged and her hair was
tousled around her face.
"Morning, honey," he teased gently. "Brought you some coffee.
How are you feeling?"
Her answering shrug had the effect of pulling the sheet even
higher on her leg. "I don't know, really. I'm still kind of," she
paused for a moment, obviously groping for a word, "numb, I guess."
She rubbed the rim of the cup with her finger, looking out the window,
apparently lost in thought.
Billy nodded and gave her a smile, "Well, I just wanted to let you
know what time it was." He laughed briefly, turning to head for the
door, "I was napping on the couch."
At the sound of his voice, she turned back and looked up at him
pensively. "Billy," she began hesitantly, without turning from the
window. He paused and turned back. But she stayed silent for a long
moment. She finally turned to look at him, and he saw the tears
gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry, Billy," she said
simply.
"I know, C.C.," he said quietly. "It's okay, we'll talk about it
later." He flashed a smile and turned back to the door again.
"Billy, wait," she said with an edge of desperation to her voice.
"What is it, C.C.?" He was getting a little desperate himself.
This wasn't a conversation he needed to have. Maybe not ever,
certainly not now.
In a very quiet, very scared voice, her question came to him.
"Billy, you love me, don't you?"
He turned with a surprised look in his eyes, gazing on her
questioningly. "Of course, I do. Damn it, Chris. Would you be here if
I didn't?"
"Please, Billy," she said in a trembling voice. Tears were
coursing down her cheeks. "I love you, I always have, even in the
middle of..." she paused and looked up again. "Do you love me, Billy?"
"Yes," he said in terse exasperation. "I love you Chris."
Nodding slowly, she looked away for a moment, and then turned back
to him. "Show me, Billy."
"What?" he almost yelled.
"Show me," she said as she pulled aside the covers. She had his
old shirt on. And that was all. It had ridden up over her hips and
was held together with two buttons still fastened in the middle.
Looking up at him with tears in her eyes, her fingers quickly undid the
buttons and spread the shirt open wide. In some strange detached part
of his brain, all the way back in the corner, he noted with a start
that she had pierced her belly button at some point.
"Chris," he began with frown.
"Please, Billy," she sobbed brokenly. "I need you. I'm so numb.
I can't feel anything. I'm so cold. Please. Make love to me. Have
sex with me. Fuck me. Use me. I don't care. I need you. I need to
feel loved. Desired. Something. Used. Anything. I need you to help
me. I need you to make me feel something, anything."
He stared at her in stunned silence, looking beyond her naked
offering and looking to her need.
"Please, Billy!" She pushed herself up to a sitting position,
looking up into his eyes. He knew she wasn't faking. She wasn't
playing. The pain was too close to the surface and she wasn't nearly
this good an actress. "You know you want to, Billy. I want you to.
You wanted it last night. You want it now." Her eyes were drawn to
his sweats. He knew she could see the way his cock was pushing at the
fabric. "What do you want?" She went on. "I'll do anything, Billy.
Anything. Do you want me to beg?" She clambered down and slid off the
bed to the floor and knelt in front of him. "Is this what you want
Billy? I'm begging. I'm on my knees. Please. Please, oh God
please. Help me. I'm so cold, Billy."
He still couldn't find his voice, but he did manage to lurch into
motion, reaching down to pull her up and support her while he sat her
on the edge of the bed. She sat there, sobbing, not looking at him.
With a struggle, he found his breath and whispered, "Chris, have you
thought about what happens after..."
"I don't care! I need you now, Billy. I can't feel anything,
don't you understand?"
He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him, "I do
understand, CC." And finally, after almost a year, his lips touched
hers again. They were everything he remembered them to be. Warm and
moist, they invited his tongue inside her eager mouth. He pressed
tight, the tip of his tongue exploring, teasing and tasting with each
touch. These lips had made him scream in pleasure and cry out in pain.
His hands slid up along her side, brushing over the shirt and slipped
under the fabric to push it from her shoulders. With a moan she
wrapped her arms around him tight as soon as they were free of the
shirt.
"Oh, Billy, yes. Touch me. Let me feel you Billy. God, your
lips. Let me feel. Make me feel." The warm flesh of her lips
scrambled to press against his once again. As he tossed the shirt into
a corner, he felt her tongue flicking along his lips. It was insane.
He knew it. He just didn't care. He pressed her back against the
mattress, his fingers firm on her shoulders. When he pulled his lips
away, she uttered a disconsolate whimper. But he wasn't going far. He
trailed his lips along her cheek, then down along the line of her jaw.
With a twist of his head, he brushed his lips over her chin. The tip
of his tongue trailed its way down her throat, pausing to outline the
triangle at the hollow. Her fingers stroked up his arms as he held
himself to hover over her body as she lay back on the bed. She tried
to pull him down into her, but he resisted, gently detaching her hands
and guiding them back to her side.
He kissed his way down her body, slowly and very, very thoroughly,
letting his mouth and lips meander on along a convoluted path.
Brushing against her collarbones, tracing over her shoulder and running
down to the shallow valley between her breasts. As he moved his mouth
down along her skin, he slowly, carefully slide his hands down along
side her body, allowing only his mouth to touch her skin. His touch
caused her to moan and arch up into him, trying to press her body
against his lips. But he rode each motion of her body; keeping the
touch light, desperately light, even using his breath to tease her
while his mouth floated across her nipples.
"Oh, God, Billy. Yes. I can feel you. I can feel you." She
threw her arms out wide and wrapped her fists in the crumpled sheets.
Arching her back, her hips lifted up from the bed, reaching towards him
as she tried to press herself against him as he leaned over the end of
the bed. Smiling to himself, he flicked the tip of his tongue across
her nipple, feeling it harden even more against his touch. She was
always responsive, but her aching need had driven her to a fevered
pitch that surprised even him, he who knew her best, who knew every
curve and twist of her, inside and out.
With a growl he continued to trail his mouth down her body,
licking lightly at the underswell of her breasts and drawing a long
twisting path down along her abdomen, circling around the new addition
of the piercing. Teasing it with the tip of his tongue, he wrapped his
arms around her waist, sliding between her spread thighs; he pressed
his weight down on her as she raised her hips against him. He crouched
on the floor, his chest lying against her open legs. His arms held her
tight, circled around her waist, drawing himself down against her as
his lips circled and spiraled around the metal ring in her belly
button.
A tear leaked out under his tightly closed lid, matching the
deluge that ran from the corner of Christine's eyes. He whispered
against her warm supple skin, "God, I've missed you, Chris. I've
missed you so much." He clung to her tightly, not wanting to feel them
separated, even for a moment.
"Oh, Billy, I've missed you. I've missed this. Even while I
was..." she trailed off as the tears started to flow even more
furiously. "I always missed you. I miss how you can make me feel so
good. How you can make me just feel." Her arms slid down to trail
through her fingers through his hair, pushing him down tight against
her skin. "More, Billy, more. God, please more."
Sliding his arms out from around her, he drifted down lower and
lower, brushing his lips along the gentle curve of her belly. As his
mouth came closer, he could see that her pussy was swollen and
absolutely soaked. Her lips pouted out, glistening and full, and when
his tongue brushed over them, he moaned in counterpoint to her
utterances. It had been so long. So long since they shared this most
intimate of kisses. The flat of his tongue lapped against her in long
slow strokes, over and over as he felt her lips give way under the
pressure of his mouth. He rode over her again, repeatedly, until the
need overwhelmed him and his mouth opened wide. He drew her lips up
into his mouth, holding her, consuming her, devouring her. He needed
to possess her again, the way he did before, to feel her thrusting up,
searching for every touch of his mouth. There couldn't be any hiding
from the need, for him or her.
He plunged his tongue between her lips and thrust into her pussy.
Feeling her wetness flooding out of her, his teeth pressed tight
against her clit. At the first touch of the hard surface, her body
locked, tight little shudders running down her frame culminating in
hard thrusts of her hips against his mouth.
"Oh, Billy, yes. Yes! I can feel you. I can feel you. I can
feel you. Please Billy, please. More. Oh, more, Billy."
He drove himself into her, thrusting his tongue as deep as he
possibly could, his lips and teeth and tongue working on her flesh.
Her hips pushed tight up against him and at the height of her thrust he
slid his tongue out of her pussy and trailed it along her lips. With a
growl, he slid his fingers up between her thighs, and spread the lips
of her pussy apart. He trailed his tongue up and down the inner
surfaces of her lips, drawing out each shudder of pleasure, each twist
of her hips. Keeping his weight positioned on her hips, he kept her
pinned to the bed as she tried to press up against him. He knew she
wanted more, he could feel the hunger passing through her body and into
him. He fed on her hunger and in turn fed her need.
"Please, please, please, please, oh God, please! Billy! God, let
me feel you. I need to feel you. Need to feel... Need to feel... So
cold... make me warm Billy. Please."
As he heard the timbre in her voice he brought his arms down and
skinned out of his sweatshirt. After pulling the shirt over his head
he leaned back and pressed his lips tight against her. He dragged his
teeth over her soft, swollen flesh, letting the sharp edges dig in just
enough. Her hips locked under his touch as he slid the waistband of
his sweatpants down over his hips. His cock was hard and straining and
he brought himself up to lean over her again. She looked up into his
eyes, silently pleading, her mouth open but no words issued forth.
With a smile, he leaned forward and slipped himself into her with one
long slow thrust.
The touch of his cock unleashed her voice like a damn bursting
under the weight of a downpour. "Oh, Billy, yes. I can feel. I can
feel you. It feels so good, so warm, so deep. Please, baby. Please.
Take me. Take me there, Billy. Make me warm. Make me hot."
He drove into her again, and again, his hips thrusting and driving
her thighs wider still. She groaned as each thrust brought their
bodies together with an audible slap. The urgency drove them both to
push deeper and harder, meeting at the apex of each stroke to find the
perfect sensation. Her hands slid down his body, spreading on the
inside of her thighs and she pulled her legs open even further, opening
up so that he could get as deep as possible. There was no holding
back, no thoughts but each other.
He drove into her until he felt her body responding, her cries
growing louder and more strident. Knowing she was close he started to
twist his hips as he drove into her, burying himself in her. Billy
could feel the tightness of her muscles wrapping around him, drawing
him deeper, and pulling him in. Her hands came up along his flanks and
reached around to dig her nails into the small of his back, trying to
force him against her as she came.
"Yes, Billy, yes, yes, yes. So warm. I can feel you inside. So
deep inside where it's so cold. Billy, yes. I missed you, I missed
this. I need you in me so deep. So much." Her voice dissolved into
an undulating cry as the pleasure ripped through her. Her legs wrapped
themselves around his hips as she shuddered the last of her orgasm, she
tried to spread all of herself against him, trying to bring every inch
she could in contact with his body.
"Oh, baby. God I've missed you," he murmured into her ear.
Her answer was cut off with a moan as his cock throbbed in time to
his heartbeat, still wrapped inside her tight pussy. She whispered
hesitantly, "Billy?"
"What is it baby?"
"You, you didn't cum, did you?" Her voice sounded almost hopeful.
He laughed quietly, "No, amazingly enough, not yet."
"Oh good," she sighed happily. With a groan and a giggle, she
rolled to one side, and he slid off of her. She cuddled up close and
kissed the underside of his chin, murmuring against his skin, "God,
Billy, I want you. I want your cock in my mouth. I dream about your
cock. I dream about tasting it and licking it and sucking it." She
slowly slid down his body, kissing her way as she went along. Unlike
his previous attentions on her, however, she made a direct line sliding
down to her knees between his legs and slowly stroking her fingers
along the erect shaft of his cock. "This is what I want, this is what
I need. This is what I missed..." she trailed off as her mouth
engulfed his still glistening glans. They moaned together, although
hers was muffled he could feel it vibrating against his head. Her
fingers slowly wrapped around his shaft and she stroked it while her
tongue swirled around him.
He leaned back against the mattress, stretching up to the head of
the bed to grab a pillow. Drawing it back down, he laid it behind his
head and thrust himself into it as her mouth slid down further atop his
cock. She drew the entire length of him inside her hungry mouth and as
her lips gripped the base of his cock, he could feel the tightness of
her throat around the very end of it. She moaned as he thrust himself
up into her again, and again and again, his hands sliding down to rest
at the back of her head. He pulled her down against him harder, more
firmly. She couldn't cry out because he was lodged deep in her throat,
but through his narrowed eyes, he could see her body rocking as she
crouched over him.
She came up for a breath, sliding her lips along his cock and
pulling it out to lap at the length of his shaft. "Oh, Billy," she
breathed heavily. "God I missed you. I missed your cock. I love
feeling you in my mouth. I love feeling you sliding deep." She looked
up at him while her tongue lapped at his head. "Please, Billy. Please
take my mouth. Fuck my mouth like you did my pussy, like you did my
cunt." Her face flushed in embarrassment at the raw emotion she
displayed. "I need to feel how much you want me. Please, Billy, take
me, take my mouth and fuck it."
He looked down at her, once again surprised by her vehemence, but
he didn't even hesitate. With a growl that rumbled through his chest,
he sat up and stretched a long arm to reach down and grip her by her
wrist, pulling her back up onto the bed. A gasp of surprise escaped
her lips as he rolled her onto her side, heaving himself to kneel next
to her. Placing his hand at the back of her neck, he drew her close
and slid his cock into her mouth without a pause. She moaned loudly as
his cock drove into her, quieting only when the head of his cock cut it
off by pressing against the back of her throat.
He took her words to heart, slowly and deliberately thrusting his
cock into her to the hilt until his pubic hair was pressed against her
nose. His balls slapped against her chin as he held her head still
while his cock buried itself in her warm and wet mouth. His shaft slid
into her repeatedly and she opened her legs wide as he held her close
on the bed. Her fingers crept down along her body to bury in the
wetness between her thighs. Body arching as she slid her fingers into
herself in the same rhythm of his cock driving into her mouth, she
became more and more enthusiastic, forcing herself down onto him even
more strongly.
He bucked his hips forward in response to her motions, moaning
loudly as she engulfed his cock again and again. Suddenly, he knew he
was about to cum, feeling the pressure building deep inside him.
Pulling himself back, he brushed the head of his cock over her lips as
he whispered, his voice very tight, "Chris, I'm going to cum. God you
feel so good. I'm going to cum, Chris."
She moaned in reply, her fingers diving deep between her lips, "Oh
Billy, cum, baby. I need you to cum in my mouth. I need to taste you.
I need to feel you. God, Billy you make me so hot. So hot deep inside
me." She forced herself down onto his shaft once again, redoubling her
efforts as he thrust hard into her again and again. His fingers
tightened in her hair and he drew her down firmly, holding her tight
against his hips as he thrust deep, the shudders taking him over. The
paroxysms of orgasm controlled him as his cum spurted into her mouth.
Her body mirrored his desperate actions, fingers driving her to the
peak of orgasm, as she tasted the results of his orgasm.
He roared out a cry, dissolving into a long low growl as his body
locked forward, almost lurching over her while the sensations rolled
through his body. The shock that struck him from the feel of her mouth
on the suddenly incredibly sensitive tip of his cock drew out more
shudders. Eventually, he felt his body relaxing, the muscles uncoiling
and stretching out again. His fingers transformed from a tight grip in
her hair to a soft gentle comb, stroking through the strands lightly.
Swaying as his head grew light, he reached out and lowered himself to
the mattress.
Christine pulled herself up along his body, kissing her way up
until she nestled tight in his arms. Wrapping her up tight and holding
her close, Billy reveled in the feel of her near him again. She
murmured quietly, almost purring against him as his arms circled around
her. They lay like that for what seemed to be a long, long time.
Feeling the weight of her body pressed against him.
She laughed, turning her face up to his and pressed a kiss to his
lips and he could feel her lips curving back in a sad smile. "Thank
you Billy."
He smiled lazily in return. "Oh, CC, you are very welcome."
He lay there, stretched out on the bed with her curled up in his
arms and as he held her, she murmured quietly and drifted off into a
doze. He watched her for a few moments, the feel of her in his arms,
sleeping safely nearly overwhelming him. Gently, he slid his arms back
from around her and eased himself up out of the bed. He smiled down at
her and grabbed the covers to slide them up over her with just a tiny
reluctant protest in the back of his mind. The door closed quietly
behind him as he slipped out. As the door clicked shut, he sagged
against the frame, overcome for a moment by everything. His step was
just a little shaky as he padding to the kitchen. Casting a baleful
glance at the coffee he opted to root through the refrigerator and get
something cold to drink. After grabbing a pair of sweats from his
bedroom, he headed back down the hall to the office.
His stomach did a few flip-flops, trying to come to terms the
events of the last hour or so. He felt as if he was traveling through
a bemusing sort of fog that twined its tendrils along his body and mind
as he struggled forward. Being at war with himself wasn't exactly a
new phenomenon, but this was taking it to extremes. Having her back in
his arms was a heady pull, to say the least. But he shied away from
investing anything else in this. How could he possibly go through the
pain and loss again?
Dropping into the leather chair behind the desk he sat back for a
long moment, rocking it back and putting his feet up on the corner.
Well, now what, asshole? There was going to be a lot of fallout from
this, of that he was completely sure. The $64,000 question, of course,
was what kind of fallout it would be. A light dusting or nuclear
winter? He shook his head sharply and tried to focus. No matter what,
the situation was not anything close to tenable the way it sat.
First things first. He tried to recall the name of the apartment
broker to whom he'd been introduced at a cocktail party a couple of
weeks before. Wallace... Wilson... Willis! That was it. He dug
into his desk and dredged up the man's business card, tossed in with
all the others. As tight as the real estate market was, he had a tip
on a stock going public in a couple of weeks that would inspire the
Willis' best efforts. Hopefully even going above and beyond. He
dialed quickly and grimaced when he wound up leaving a voice mail
message. Typical for a Saturday afternoon, but it was still a pain in
the ass. Just as he slid the handset back onto the cradle, he heard a
noise form the door and turned with a smile.
His greeting evaporated on his lips when he saw the look on her
face. Fury blazed from her eyes as she stared at him. "You bastard,"
she breathed in a rage. With that, she was gone, pelting back up the
hallway towards what he had come to think of already as 'her' room.
Springing up, he was just in time to see her, as she disappeared
naked behind the door. "CC, what's going on?" Calling through the
door wasn't exactly the way he had planned to talk to her, but he was
able to adapt. He knocked on the door a couple of times before trying
the knob. When he found it locked, he started wondering where in the
hell the key would be. But before he even had a chance to think it
through, the door swung open and Chris, now dressed once again stood
there for a moment before pushing past him.
"Chris, what the hell is going on?" He was completely clueless
about what might have angered her to this degree. Falling in behind,
he followed her up the hallway. In the living room she picked up her
coat and shrugged it over her shoulders, refusing to answer him; but
when she tried to grab her overnight back, Billy reached out and took
her arm, turning her to face him.
Yanking her arm away she glared at him. "Leave me alone. You got
what you wanted, you scheming bastard. Now, I'm leaving, just like you
wanted me to do." She drew in a long, ragged breath, "You couldn't
even wait until your cum had dried before you tried to find me
somewhere else to live. You fuck. Well, you've got your wish; I'd
rather sleep on the streets than here with you. I came here because I
thought I could trust you, because you've always been the one to help
pick me up. Now I know what a mistake I made. " Whirling, she tried
to make her way to the door.
That took a second or two to sink in, but when it did, it rocked
him back on his heels. White-hot anger bloomed inside him and then was
immediately quenched in a cold, dispassionate rage. His hand reached
out, almost of its own accord and grabbed her by the back of her coat
as she tried to storm past. He dragged her backwards; taking the bag
by the strap and yanking it off her shoulder, he tossed it aside.
Without saying a word he propelled her with a gentle, but firm push
into the couch.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she yelled. "Just who
do you-"
"Shut up," his whisper sliced across her protest like a razor
sharp sword, cutting her off cold. She stared up at him as he paused
reflexively, trying to reduce the babble that threatened to spill out
over his lips. If he was going to have this conversation, he was going
to start it coherently, no matter how it eventually ended. "CC, I told
you before, you can stay here as long as you need. You still can.
That hasn't changed, it won't change. If you want to walk out after
this, then walk out. But you're not leaving until I get a chance to
tell you a thing or two.
"I did call the broker about an apartment for you. And yes, I did
it this quickly because of what happened in there a little while ago.
I have been thinking about being with you again since... well, since
the last time." Stirring, she was about to protest but he quelled her
with a look. "But guess what, genius, I'm not throwing you out because
I fucked you and now I want to be alone. If all I wanted to do was
fuck you, I would have let you into bed last night."
Her eyes flashed bright at this reminder, "Why didn't you? You
wanted it; I could feel that you wanted it. I wanted it. I needed it.
Why did you tell me to leave?"
"Because, CC," he said with a sigh. "Can you imagine what I would
have felt for me to spend the night with you and then to have you leave
to go to Terry? Again?" Mutely, she nodded. "I can't go through that
again, CC. There's no way. And when you came back here today, as
ashamed as I am to admit it, part of me was happy. Because it meant
that maybe, there was a chance... a chance to be together again.
"And after today, I think there's more than a chance. I want it,
CC. God how I want it. But I can't risk it this way. I can't take
the chance that we'll be together for awhile, until you start feeling
better and get your bearings again. And then you'll be gone. I can't
be the rebound lover, the rebound relationship.
"I can't pour my heart and soul into this and then have it ripped
away from me again. Not again, CC." His words were starting to tumble
over his lips, backing up and clogging. He forced himself to pause and
draw in a huge shaky breath.
For her part, she sat on the edge of the couch and looked up at
him as he paced back and forth in front of her. "Then why the call
about the apartment?"
"Do you really think you're in shape to start out a relationship
by living together? Like nothing happened in between?" He asked in
annoyance. "I know I'm not. There's too much... there's too much
baggage. Too much hurt and too much pain to just jump into this with
both feet." His pacing stuttered to a stop in front of her and he
looked down into her eyes. "I love you, CC. I always have. I always
will. I want you; I want to be with you. But I can't do it like this,
in this sort of... limbo. The last six months have been like living
in hell with the hinges off, but it will be nothing compared to what it
will be like if I lose you again.
"I called because I realized, after being with you, that we still
have... something. That it's not just my wishful thinking and that
it's not just your situation. That we have a connection that's still
there. Something that's more than just sex. Don't we?"
She nodded slowly, "Oh, we do, Billy. Much more than just sex.
Being with you was so good, so... right, that it kind of scares me."
"Yeah," he nodded slowly, "I know. Very scary. That's what I was
thinking about when I called, about how right it felt. It's so scary
that I think we need some distance between us while we're working our
way back to each other, back to ourselves. You can stay, CC, you know
that. But if you do CC, we can't sleep together. Or we'll never, ever
get any sort of solid foundation on which to rebuild."
Comprehension flooded over her face, mixed with relief that her
initial interpretation was so flawed, the feeling of betrayal must have
been devastating. "You mean..."
He nodded in reply. I wanted you in your own apartment so we
could be back together for real. For good."
Her mouth made a soundless 'oh' in response.
"So," he said slowly, fighting to keep his voice level. "Here's
the deal. You are welcome to stay as long as you need. You know that.
But if you think, we have a chance to have something more and it's
something that you want to see happen, then you'll be moving out as
soon as we can find you a place." He turned on his heels and walked
slowly to the doorway, calling back over his shoulder, "If you want me
to cancel the call to the agent, just tell me." He didn't trust
himself to turn away, and he certainly didn't trust himself to stay and
listen to the answer right now.
He made it to the sanctuary of his study without tripping flat on
his face, a feat of prowess for which he cast a quick prayer of thanks.
Flinging himself down on the sofa, he flipped through one of his
reports for a few moments in an attempt to distract himself. He knew
it was futile, however. His ears were almost quivering to catch the
sound of the door slamming shut behind her. He figured it was about
even money whether or not she stayed or left.
Cursing himself he forced his attention onto the report again,
reading and rereading the paragraphs until things actually started to
penetrate and make some sort of sense to his addled brain. He was so
successful that he didn't even hear the first hesitant knock on the
study's door.
"Billy," Chris asked plaintively through the closed door. "Are
you in there? Can I come in?"
He took a deep breath and dropped the report onto his chest.
"Sure, CC," he called out, his voice a little tight with apprehension.
Well, I didn't expect that, was his only reaction when she stepped
through the opening door completely naked. She walked directly across
the floor towards the sofa and bent down over him, pressing her lips
tight against his as her hand slide down his body. Flinging the
report away, she pushed her hand under the waistband of his sweats to
wrap her fingers around his instantly stiff cock.
"Made your decision, did you?" he managed to ask a little huskily.
She nodded and murmured against his lips, "I want to feel you
again, Billy. I need it. I need you. I love you, Billy."
With a growl he reached up to pull her into him. We may still
crash and burn, he thought fleetingly, but at least we'll have a chance
to fly.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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