Monday, April 18, 2011
Wanderlust part 35 "your own person"
Do you dress your characters in your favorite outfits? I do more than I realized. For instance, this was my outfit yesterday. You might recognize it.
by Sommer Marsden
I never did get that damn soda. I fell under so deep that I heard him come back in but couldn’t rouse myself. There was a brief moment of what felt like peace when the mattress dipped again with his weight and I felt a single kiss dropped on the crown of my head.
I got a girl…I thought before being gone to the world all over again.
Five hours of sleep is never enough but you take what you get when you’re floundering and finding your way as you go. I cracked one eye to see the motel room and realized that it was, in fact, uglier in daylight than it was in the dim light of the witching hour.
Johnny sprawled on his belly, head on the white pillow that looked so tiny under his bulk. I pressed my fingertip into the indentation where his neck met his scalp. It was the one spot of vulnerability I could see on this huge man.
He was built like a grizzly bear, but not overly bulky. But that one spot—that sweet spot—drew me in and I let myself stroke the back of his neck. Heat baked off him and his breath stayed steady, but he was playing possum. I yelped a little when he grabbed my leg and held me tight.
“What time is it, Snowflake?”
“Is that an answer or a guess?”
He rolled to his back and in the same deft motion yanked me in to him with one arm. He pinned me to his chest and kissed my forehead. “Ready to roll?”
“Let’s do it, then.”
That made me think of Jackson, the Let’s do it then. He always said that before a big job for daddy. Thinking of Jackson set the guilt free. It came rushing out of its neat little pen like a stampede of blackness.
“Let’s do it, then,” I echoed.
“You hop in the shower, I’ll put my crap in the car.”
Digging through my candy colored bags, I picked an outfit and put my stuff with his. “These can go.”
“You want a donut? Probably a stale one,” he said, grinning at me. “But they do offer a complimentary shitty breakfast. What’s the word? Continental? Means fast and cheap?” That grin shot me right in the gut. It almost doubled me over with lust. I remembered him in front of me, poor Joe behind…shook off the image.
“No way. I want real food. How about I shower, you shower, and then we find a diner and I buy you some real food? My treat.”
I expected bristling and bullishness. Instead I got another of those gut wrenching smiles. “You drive a hard bargain, Really, but okay.” And he was gone.
I soaped myself ten times over and washed my hair twice, trying to wrap my head around this fucking road trip. And my life. I managed to figure out exactly zero.
We passed again in the grooming room outside the tiny bathroom. He snagged me by my postage stamp of a towel and dragged me to him. “You look pretty in that washcloth.”
“It’s a towel,” I snorted.
“If you say so.” Then he ripped it free of me and swatted my ass as I danced away.
“Johnny!” I shrieked, but I was laughing and it felt good. And strange. I was laughing all the way down in my belly where my chorus teacher used to tell me the best part of our voices lived.
“You know I could get you if I wanted,” he said but turned to the bathroom for his shower.
Faded jeans, a taupe and white striped shirt, flats. It was sunny and windy—I could hear the gusts licking at the byways of the motel—but no rain. Flats would work. My hair was a tangled mess and I hadn’t bought a comb but I had a pick in my purse. And my purse was by the phone and—
I stared at it.
Why would I do that? Why, oh why, would I put all that shit back in my head when I’d just cleared it all away?
I picked it up and dialed the 1-800 number for my father’s office. I would just hear the place and know they were okay. It would only take a minute. It was fine—
“Blake and Associates,” Gina answered. She was short and curvy with dark brown hair cut in a retro style that accented her big brown eyes. The eyes were pure Anime. She was a sexpot mixed with a cartoon character and the men loved her.
“Really?” she breathed.
“Hi, Gina. How’s stuff?”
“You’re the talk of the office,” she said. I could picture her in some 1950s cut frock with matching pumps, leaning toward the phone. Her gossip face firmly masking her normal proper secretary features.
“Oh, am I?” I tried to sound nonchalant. Not nervous or needy for information.
“Of course. Poor Jackson, he’s been a mess. I’ve been taking him to lunch every day just to keep his spirits up.”
Was that a jab in her tone, a little shard of self righteousness in her voice? You’ve fucked it up and I’m here to pick up the pieces, you rich bitch... Maybe? Just maybe. Of course it was. Who was I kidding? And so what?
I’d cut him loose. He had every right.
But already? The vultures were circling, already?
I swallowed hard, heard the dry click in my throat and forced my voice as normal as possible. “That’s great Gina. He needs a friend right now,” I said. My voice sounded strangled and pained. I imagined her happiness to hear it and then shook it off. I was assuming. Seeing malicious intent where there might be none. That was wrong.
But it hurt and I hated to admit it. That Jackson would move on so fast was like a thousand little needles stabbing at my skin. That made me feel small and petty and stupid and there were another thousand needles stabbing at my soul.
“Did you want to talk to Jack?” she breathed, eager for the dirt, I could tell.
“No. That’s okay. I was just…” What the fuck had I been doing? “Checking in. To get the dirt and see how they were holding up.”
There. That would make her feel in on it and maybe she wouldn’t run around and tell everyone everything. Being the mailman, my mother used to call spreading gossip.
“The boys are fine,” she said.
I felt myself bristle. That fucking rankled. The boys? Was Gina stepping in to be pseudo wife and daughter to my boys?
“My father?” I managed.
“Said if you wanted to be gone, he wouldn’t stop you. That we couldn’t stop you. None of us could. That you were…your own person.” She said it fast. Eagerly. I hated Gina. I hadn’t before, but I sure as shit did now. There was a true how the mighty have fallen ring to her voice.
“Oh.” I took a deep breath to steady my voice.
Johnny walked in and I waited for him to grab the phone. Slam it down. Rip it out of the wall. I waited for a movie scene, is more accurate. Instead, he dropped buck naked at the foot of the bed and ran the tiny cheap white towel over his scalp.
“So you have nothing to worry about. He’s not hot on your tail or anything,” Gina laughed.
“Good,” I managed.
“Hey, did you want to talk to your father? His meeting just ended and I can transf—“
“No,” I said and hung up.
I regarded him through brimming tears. I laughed. It was a mangled bark of a noise and he eyed me the same way a person would eye a rabid dog.
“It’s all fine!” I laughed again. This laugh was coming from my throat, not my belly. This laugh burned on the way out. “Everyone is fine. It’s great. Just let me make sure I have all my shit and we can roll out of here, big boy.”
He cocked his head but stayed silent. Very sharp man, Johnny Rose.
He got dressed slowly and let me be, but snagged me was I passed to pull my hair up.
“What’s up, Really?”
“Nothing,” I said. It was a lie. We both knew it. So much so, that saying it was damn near embarrassing and I blushed.
“If you don’t tell me, I could bend you over and—“
I snorted out a laugh. “I’m sure you could.”
He looked confused. The first time I’d seen that on his face. “So you just want a bite then?”
“Yes,” I sighed. We could go and find food and pretend none of this had happened. Thank God, he was letting it go—
But no. He was putting his mouth to my exposed throat. My top was a scoop neck and showed off my throat and chest. He pressed his teeth to my pulse, capturing me from behind in his big arms, and he bit me.
A blossoming heat and sparkle of pain invaded my skin and I gasped. Then my pussy responded, moving against nothing, seeking friction.
Johnny plunged his hand into my top and my bra and pulled my breast up and out. His huge fingers squeezed the rosy tip hard, trapping gentle flesh between rough fingers. He squeezed and bit me again and my cunt grew tighter still.
“I think you need a bit of pain to focus you,” he said.
I could only nod.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he said in my ear and then bit the tender nape of my neck. My belly rolled with arousal, my cunt flickering yet again. A steady beat had taken up residence between my thighs and the pulse in my groin outshone the one in my chest.
Not even if I ask? I wondered.
“Not even if you ask,” he said, in my head again. So what was new? His teeth rested on my flesh—the potential for pain staggering and fucking arousing beyond belief.
“Stop doing that. Stop sneaking around in my skull,” I sighed, but without an real heat. Because he’d moved around to the front of me and peeled my top down to expose the other breast. He blissfully tortured my nipples with his fingers—as strong and hard as clamps--until I thought I’d come right there. But the bites did me in. One along my collar bone, hard and sweet enough that bright lights flashed behind my closed lids. Followed by a brutal pinch of my now tender nipples. Another bite, sharp and fast, above my heart—the very heart that beat so hard for him right now—and the first flicker of orgasm hit me.
Was he really doing this? Could he really make me come just from…
He knocked his leg between mine and pressure on my clit was hard and insistent through my jeans. Just pressure. That was all. Then he bit my breast. To the right of my nipple, hard enough that in my mind I saw the word bruise appear in purple blue and black and then his mouth latched on to my swollen nipple and he bit me there and I—
When I came he held me up, my skin pulsing with the work his teeth had done. My breath catching in my throat and my vision wonky for just long enough to make me feel drunk, slow and stupid.
He grinned at me. Tucked my still damp hair behind my ears and said “Hungry? You’ve had a bite, now how about food?”
I stared at him dumbly before giggling like some small demented child and nodding. I was losing my mind. But what a way to lose it, yeah?
“Food,” I said, putting my shirt right and going to fix my hair. “And then?” I called from the bathroom’s outer room.
“And then?” he called. “And then more road and whatever that road brings us.”