As I approach her, she slides her thighs apart; my penis throbs in response. I kneel on the bed between her knees and lower my body to cover hers but she jerks and twists her body round.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes are intense beams of judgement.
“What?” I’m still hovering over her and beginning to feel faintly ridiculous, “I thought you wanted it!”
“I do. But not without protection. We hardly know each other!”
“You were laying there seductively! Giggling over your shoulder at me! You were more or less saying you wanted me to do it!” I’m glaring at her now. She returns my glare and pushes my arm at the junction of the elbow so it collapses and I fall half on the bed, half on her. Rolling over, I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling; the pristine apartment has some imperfections at least: there are tiny cracks. I bet they’re supposed to be there though.
“That might be your interpretation of my giggling but did I actually say the words, ‘please put your cock in my vagina right now without protection!’?” She tosses her head and her long, red hair brushes my arm; it tickles my skin, annoying me, and I know ten minutes ago I would have found it sensual.
“Fucking hell!” I yell this to the cracks in the ceiling. She starts and gazes at me. I glance into her gaze occasionally. Eventually I turn my head and meet her. “What?!”
“We’re already behaving like a married couple,” she grins at this and it wipes the tension from her face.
“Shows which kind of married couples you know!” I turn away again. I’m not ready to be jovial. My hard on has gone soft. She pinches me on the side of my body.
“Oh, come on… Where’s your sense of humour gone?”
Laughing, she turns the pinch into a tickle and I squirm until we are wrestling around the bed. The tickling is getting harder and more aggressive and my squirms are now jerks. My breath is escaping my nose in short bursts, my teeth clamped together. Her laugh has a nasty ring to it now. I need to stop this. I pull my arm back and shove hard.
There is a thump as she hits the floor and then the quiet sounds of our mingled breathing: hers, shocked gasps; mine, relieved freedom. Then the enormity of what I’ve just done sinks in. Fuck. I cover my face with my hands.
I sit up and look at her. She is sitting, leaning on one buttock, legs curling around, both hands flat on the floor, head bowed, eyes staring up at me from under her red fringe, mouth set in a straight line. What can I say? I turn away, slide my legs over the side of the bed and look at the carpet.
“Is this how you treat people you trust?” I can taste the bitterness in her voice. I shake my head. “Oh, then this is special treatment just for me?” I can feel her staring at my back. I shake my head. “Then what the fuck was that?” The words are growled out and the hairs on the back of my neck raise a little. What can I say? Her breathing is becoming louder and without turning, I know her nostrils are flared. Whatever I say is cause for attack.
“I’m sorry.” I mean it.
“You’re sorry!” She spits the words out. I nod.
“How fucking dare you. Get out.” I don’t move. “Now!” She screams the word and it lasts a long time. I jump up and go round to her. I kneel in front of her, put my head to the floor and I cry. Great heaving sobs rack my body and I don’t even know where I am any more. I am the crying. I reside in the pit of my belly and the deep sobs reach me, release me. My breath, eventually, comes easier and I feel like a small child, recently injured and allowed to cry.
Suddenly I am aware of my hair being stroked and I realise I don’t know how long it’s been happening. I lift my head warily, blinking against the sudden brightness. She is looking at me with such tenderness; more tears find their way to my eyes; different ones: quiet ones. She strokes the tears as they run down my face. She kneels up and kisses the wet streaks on my face; tiny, gentle kisses that take my breath away. My hands hold her waist at the curve where it meets her hips and reminds me how womanly she is; my dick concurs as blood rushes to it. Her lips move to my lips and she inches her knees apart coming closer to me; her nipples get lost in the hair on my chest and tickle my skin as she gently sways them against me.
She breaks free, twists her body to open a drawer in the cabinet at the side of her bed. Pulling out a condom, she rips open the pack and passes it to me. I pinch the end and roll it down; she runs her fingers gently over my balls sending a frisson of energy through them that makes my cock bounce as if it’s saying “yes!”.
She kisses me hungrily, her hands sliding over my chest, nipples, down the sides of my body and cupping my buttocks, she pulls me against her, my cock pressed between us. I want her. She gestures for me to lower myself; I kneel down then sit with my back against the bed and she comes forward kneel walking astride my legs. I reach my hand to stroke her but she slaps it away. Lowering herself onto me she gasps and I moan, tensing the muscles in my buttocks against the carpet. Holding her hips I make the smallest bucking motion in time with her movements as she rides me.
This condom is hampering my enjoyment! I want to pull it off but I know it won’t go down well so I focus on her breasts instead and the tingling in my groin increases. She’s sliding herself against me, making sure her clitoris is included and my buttock muscles are moving involuntarily now, my movements are bigger and matching hers; she’s sighing and panting and saying “oh!” and I think she’s going to come. That’s such a turn on. I’m going to come! My dick is rock hard, thrusting faster and faster and I can hardly feel it any more. She bucks, calling “Oh God! Oh God!” I grip her hips and thrust harder and harder: there!
Circles of movement through my balls grip my cock, my body tenses and shakes. As it judders, I feel the release of hot liquid at the tip of my penis. I close my eyes. Ahhhh. At last.
She laughs. I open my eyes. What’s funny?
“Well. That’s that tension taken care of. Next time though we’ll do it better.” She raises her head from my shoulder and smiles at me.
“Better?” I squint at her.
“Yeah, we’ll be nicer to each other.” She cocks her head to one side and watches me. I close my eyes again.
“We’ll try. Just don’t tickle me like that. I don’t like it.”
“Right. It was my fault was it that you hit me?”
“I didn’t hit you. I shoved you.” I’m tired. I can’t be bothered to argue.
“Hit. Shoved. Same difference.”
“No. It wasn’t your fault. But you helped create the situation.”
She climbs off me and leaves the room. I pull the condom off and lay it on the floor then lean back against the bed and close my eyes. Bathroom sounds drift into my ears as I drift off.
“Are you going to have a shower?” She is leaning over, peering at me as I peel open my eyes. I hadn’t thought about it. I become aware of the softness of the bed and the warmth of the duvet. How did I get in here?
“Why? Do you want me to?”
“No. I don’t know. I just thought you might want to. Do you want something to eat?”
“Yes!” Suddenly, I’m starving.
“Okay, why don’t you jump in the shower while I fix us something to eat!” She smiles at me.
“Why are you so obsessed with me having a shower?”
“I’m not. Don’t have one if you don’t want one. I’m just thinking of you!”
“Well, why don’t you let me think of me and you think of you?”
“Fine. I’m going to prepare food.” She turns abruptly and marches off. In the doorway she stops, turns and smiles at me, head cocked in that characteristic mode of hers, “I can be rather controlling, can’t I?” Giggling, she glides out of the bedroom and disappears. I smile and shake my head.
Sitting at the table, I gaze across the river. It’s so different in daylight. Metal blue water sits between us and the Dome. Cranes attract the eye with their bright colours and spindly legs like mechanical flowers. I smell the sizzling chorizo and feel glad again of where I am, pushing aside thoughts of the Party and the task ahead of me. Rebecca enters my field of vision and plonks a heavy pan on the wooden chopping board.
“Help yourself!” She instructs and picks up the serving spoon to dump a load on her plate before passing it to me.
“There’s salad too,” she beams and adds it to her chorizo. She passes me a bottle of wine, “I didn’t know if you wanted wine. Open it if you do, yeah?” She winks and picks up her fork.
“Do you?” I don’t care either way. I look behind me for last night’s spillage.
“I cleared it up this morning while you slept. I don’t care. Go on then. I’ll get glasses. There’s the corkscrew.” She nods at the corkscrew laying on the table.