After The Flesh

by Colin Gallant

  And Carrie wore make-up – a hint of blush or foundation, some light mascara. It was not much but it was make-up nonetheless. With her make-up came an actual dress, a summer dress reaching to mid-calf, leaving her shoulders bare and dipping conservatively in the front. I was both appalled and aroused to discover Carrie had cleavage. I suppose I should have assumed it was there. It’s just that I had never seen it before. She was still Carrie. I knew it as soon as she spoke but there was more of her mother in her. There was a reserved sensuality about her that I can only describe as deeply erotic. She was larger somehow, taller, more real. More vital, I suppose. The supple curve of her calves, the shimmer of her hair, the pale, not quite bared upper swell of her breasts; I saw the uncertain child behind them and the woman she might have become.

  On her doorstep she gazed right through me and saw only Freddy. I could have killed him right then and there – at least one of us would have been a murderer. I hated him then. But it was only my immediate jealousy spawning such feelings. In that moment I saw into the corners. I felt the chill of the darkness inside me and strangely enough it was not all that cold. Strangely – I should say frighteningly. Just then I could understand his need to possess her.

  Not proudly do I admit this.

  It was there on the doorstep where my own darkness announced itself that they left me. I lingered for a while. I suppose I was hoping Carrie would return to invite me in as well. Truthfully, I’m certain I knew better. Once standing there grew too awkward to bear I turned and left. I headed south of the Green to begin my own search for the truth.

  -

  When Freddy saw Carrie, he saw what she was becoming. He was struck with the same surge of longing as I was. Unlike me, Freddy could at first only see her mother in that dress. All his desires for Nancy returned – everything he felt since the morning Nancy lay splayed before him where Maple and Cornwall intersected. He could almost feel the sun warmed asphalt under his backside, the hot bite of grit in his palms and hear the brief gasp of pain escaping her lips.

  His real desire was Nancy. It always had been. Carrie was a temporary fix until he could have her mother – just like Çin had been a temporary fix until he could have Carrie. Freddy had grown distracted in the intervening years since Nancy was promised to him. Seeing Carrie now, seeing her mother so clearly in her, Freddy was confused. His longing for Nancy returned full-force. He was ten again and too stunned to cry.

  I had little faith in any redemption for him. Perhaps he loved Nancy – honestly like the real human emotion loved her. It was possible. I suspect Freddy’s brain was somehow compartmentalized. The real feelings, the real emotions were there. Only they were kept under lock and key.

  Perhaps Freddy could love. Perhaps he could show faith and honor and grief and guilt if the key were found and the portal opened – I don’t know. Just the night before Freddy had come to me confessing his first murder. He was a killer in waiting no longer. I must assume he did do it. I could find no evidence to the contrary. Çin’s house was empty. Her family was gone. A police car sat idling in the street out front but I didn’t dare approach. A report on the evening news mentioned a missing teen, but it was retracted the following night without explanation. The stains on Freddy’s hands, so easily washed clean in the creek bed, were ingrained in the lines of my palms. Like Lady Macbeth my hands would not come clean. I waited for the madness to take me.

  -

  Nancy had gone shopping. Aside from half a box of Corn-Pops and a few cans of stewed tomatoes, the cupboards were bare. Freddy discovered this quickly and contemplated the possibilities. Still he saw Nancy before him. He needed to remind himself this was Carrie and not her mother. His grasp of reality was often a tad shaky, to put it mildly. I think this made him all the more dangerous later on but for the moment it might serve to expose him. I might not have been able to raise a defense against him but that did not stop me from hoping for his downfall.

  Had Carrie grown into this new person in his company he may have adapted quite readily – nearly unnoticed actually. He would have learned the secrets of cleansers, facial masks and tea tree oil shampoos alongside her. He would have watched in amusement as she fidgeted uncomfortably the first time, she was consciously forced to keep her knees together in a dress.

  Nancy worked hard to raise her daughter and their relationship was near-perfect. Dr. Phil would be proud. But instead of the daughter she expected, Carrie was more like a son in many ways. I find it odd how the lack of a father-figure in her life could create such a child. It might actually be because of it rather than in spite of it. Carrie’s preference for boy’s clothing, her aversion to most things feminine and her stereotypical male pursuits never came between her and her mother. If anything, the differences between mother and daughter reinforced the ‘girl time’ they did have together. She looked up to her mother, loved her mother to death and would die before she hurt her.

  I think Carrie was ready to become a woman, to accept the so-called finishing required to step up to the next level. But it might have been necessary to get her away from Prince William Falls and her mostly male peer influence. Possibly in that regard, her time away was something of a blessing.

  Her light summer dress swirled around her calves as she turned, leading Freddy into the empty house. Her hips moved like a woman’s, unconsciously with each step and her hair, soft and golden, caught the afternoon sun slanting in through the living room windows. She side-stepped a pile of luggage stacked haphazardly in the foyer and turned back to Freddy. Her face glowed with mischief.

  Freddy stopped in mid step. He saw her mother yet she was still Carrie. This was Carrie. That he was confused about it startled him but he reassured himself this was Carrie. Nancy was out. This was Carrie.

  She read the look on his face as something akin to bafflement and a peel of laughter escaped her. “Since you’re here, maybe you could help me carry this stuff upstairs,” Carrie indicated the suitcases.

  “Don’t I get a kiss first?” Freddy recovered enough to smirk.

  Carrie bit her lip. A stray lock of her beautiful hair fell across her forehead. She skipped around the luggage and closed on him. All in one sweeping motion she looped her arms around his neck and lifted her face to his.

  Freddy drew her close as her kissed her. The scent of her had changed or matured. He no longer smelled the Johnson & Johnson’s in her hair but rather a slightly spicy aroma. Her skin still carried the scrubbed, powdery smell he so loved but with it, wafting from the hollows of her neck, he could smell the light musky scent of her mother’s perfume. His arousal was immediate.

  Carrie drew her face away from his, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. She kept her body pressed closely to his, shifting slightly against the growing bulge below his belt line. He ran his hands down her back, across the firm crest of her hips and up her rib cage and cupped the sides of her breasts in each open palm.

  Her eyes closed and she sighed. A moment later they snapped open. She grinned widely and unlocked her arms, trailing her fingertips down his chest as she stepped back. “Hold that thought. Let’s get these suitcases upstairs first and then …” She laughed again.

  Freddy wanted to maintain control of the situation. The question of whether or not she would be interested in pursuing their sexual relationship was fairly well answered. But it seemed his notion of such things was still very juvenile where hers was clearly not. The past six weeks had given them both time to think about this reunion and while Freddy was distracted by his dealings with Çin, Carrie used the time more wisely. Freddy needed to recover, to regain the upper hand. He never intended to follow her lead.

  Freddy smiled. He thought quickly. He always did. “At least we’ll have an excuse to be upstairs.”

  Two trips up the staircase emptied the foyer. Freddy lingered a moment at the threshold of Nancy’s bedroom before entering. He felt as though he was almost breaking some taboo. This was where Carrie’s mother slept, where she undressed and bared he
rself without fear of scrutiny. He imagined Nancy in nothing but her white lace panties sitting at the ornate vanity beside her highboy. She was combing her hair, doing her make-up, completely unconcerned about prying eyes or teenaged fantasies. In his mind he watched her, her tanned body seeming to shimmer in the lamp light. Her breasts, lighter than the surrounding skin, rose and fell as she lifted her arms to work the brush through her long hair. She smiled at him in the mirror when she saw him there. Her tongue flicked over her front teeth and she faded from his sight.

  Freddy took three slow paces into the room and set the suitcases on the hardwood floor. His eyes wandered over the room taking in everything, forgetting nothing. He would dream of this room tonight. He would imagine himself in here with her, his right hand a frantic claw beneath the sheets.

  “Freddy!” Carrie called out from down the hall. “Are you coming?”

  “Soon I hope,” he muttered to himself and slowly turned away.

  Carrie was standing in the center of her bedroom with her hands at her sides as he entered. That same wicked little smile played across her lips and shone in her eyes.

  Freddy crossed to her, drinking in her beauty. Again, he took her in his arms and kissed her. His open palms ran over her, exploring her. Beneath the light, summer dress she felt almost naked.

  Her own hands crawled across him, over his chest and shoulders, down across his buttocks and finally slowly made their way to the front of his jeans. With one hand she rubbed his erection through the thick denim, the other guiding his own hand to her left breast.

  Freddy could feel her nipple grow erect against his fingers, a hard jewel amid the firm, yielding flesh beneath.

  “Unzip me,” she told him without moving her lips from his.

  Freddy did. Her dress loosened across her torso and slid from her shoulders. He held her close, carefully drawing the fabric down over her hips. With a soft whisper it cascaded to a pool around her ankles.

  Beneath the dress no trace of the child remained. Carrie stepped back, allowing him to look at her. She wore a pair of plain cotton panties and a pale, skin-tone Wonder bra. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms under her breasts, right hand holding the left wrist in front of her middle. She managed only to make herself all the more alluring.

  Freddy stepped forward eagerly, unzipping himself as he went.

  “I don’t want to have sex,” Carrie said quickly, “not yet anyway.”

  He was confused. “I thought you did.”

  “I do. But not like this.” She ran her fingers across his chest again. “We don’t have time to do it right. My mom said she would be a couple of hours but …” she shrugged.

  “After last time,” Freddy finished her thought for her.

  “Exactly.”

  Freddy held her close, completely enjoying the feel of her skin and the sense of her near-nakedness so closed to him. “So, what are we doing then?”

  Carrie smiled shyly. “I was kinda hoping you’d, you know, go down on me again.” Her eyes were almost pleading. “Last time it was feeling so good – even if you did catch me off guard and you didn’t finish.”

  Freddy felt himself smiling. After Çin he was far more experienced, more adept. Even if he never was attracted to Çin he still enjoyed pleasuring her. Freddy and his damned Control. This was Carrie now and he was looking forward to this for many reasons. He moved her hands and knelt before her, sliding her panties down to pile on top of the dress. She stiffened just for a moment before relaxing.

  “I can hear the garage door open from here,” Carrie said. She let him guide her backwards to the bed. She laid back, her legs coming apart without resistance.

  Freddy wasted no time.

  “Afterward,” she began, her breath catching as his lips touched her, “I want to try giving you that … blowjob.” The word blowjob came out as a shy murmur.

  Freddy paused and glanced up at her.

  “I am ready for that,” she grinned and frowned just as quickly. “Don’t stop!”

  For once Freddy willing did what he was told. He still felt the need to possess and control but as her breathing sped up, her soft moans growing more and more desperate, he knew he was controlling her. He still had the power.

  The convulsive spasms in Carrie’s hips grew more and more pronounced. Her fingers began to tangle in his hair, wrenching his scalp as her moans became nearly frantic. Suddenly she went rigid, silent and held her breath. The moment passed. Carrie gasped and sucked in great, explosive gulps of air as her body went limp.

  “Holy Gee!” She panted, laughing happily. Her death grip on his hair relaxed.

  Freddy glanced up and she gently drew his face away. Her oath startled him but he would not show it. Even as Carrie’s breathing slowed, her chest heaving, he could only imagine what it would have been like to do that to her mother.

  “How was that?” He asked her. Freddy kissed his way up her body, lingering briefly on her breasts before continuing.

  Carrie laughed. “God,” she sighed as Freddy rolled to her side. With very intent, very adult eyes, she regarded him a moment before kissing him. “I’ve done that myself a few times, you know – Jilled off, or whatever.”

  Freddy gave her an arched look. “A few times?”

  She laughed again. “Okay, more than a few. But it has never felt so … intense!”

  He grinned at her, one hand stroking the soft mound of her pubic hair. “I’m glad.”

  “I can’t wait to feel what sex feels like – actually doing it, I mean.”

  Freddy let his eyes wander over her body clad only in the Wonder Bra. He smiled whimsically and fleetingly thought of Çin. “Me too – I mean, me neither. You know what I mean.” Impulsively he kissed her.

  “Okay,” she sat up and pushed him over on his back, “your turn.” Carrie shooed his hands away and worked the clasp of his belt buckle. In one swift motion she shucked both his pants and underwear. She tossed them unceremoniously in a heap on the bedroom floor. She no longer possessed the tentative touch of their first encounter. Carrie held his erection firmly in one steady hand, stroking slowly.

  His veins filled with that same electricity, the sensations of her touch and her warm breath as she drew nearer gave him immediate and incomparable pleasure. Everything he had done with Çin was nothing beside this. Çin’s touch got him hard and got him off. But then again so did his own.

  His dalliance with Çin did gain him one vital strength. Freddy now possessed far more staying power than he had on that June afternoon. As Carrie’s lips touched him, first merely kissing but soon far more, he did not instantly come – although in that instant he felt more pleasure than he had ever experienced before.

  “Do you want me to warn you,” Freddy asked, “before, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Carrie replied.

  This was her first time. She possessed nothing that could be called a technique. I’m certain she honestly had no idea what she was doing. Freddy found her lack of know-how frustrating. He knew how it should be done. Çin had known what she was doing. She had known from the first. He wanted to guide Carrie, to teach her how to better do it but he knew demonstrating knowledge of what would feel better might make her suspicious. Instead Freddy chose to guide her with moans and silence. He hoped in time she would learn what he liked.

  Experienced or not, Carrie was not Çin. She was a gorgeous young woman naked on her knees pleasuring him. Freddy could not help but enjoy it. He groaned happily as waves of delicious heat radiated out through his nerves, building, beginning to crest.

  “God, fuck! I’m gonna come!” Freddy hissed through clenched teeth, knowing his orgasm was moments away.

  Carrie ignored him. She did not stop. She did not draw away. She stayed with him through to the end, moaning softly as the orgasm pulsed out of him.

  Freddy gasped for breath, his rigid muscles finally unlocking. He fell back on the bed, his eyes closed. He heard Carrie get up and pad out of the bedroom. Water ran in the bathroom. A mome
nt later Carrie returned and lay down beside him.

  “It’s still hard!” She laughed, one hand clutching him gently.

  “You spit,” Freddy said mildly. “Why didn’t you just get out of the way?”

  Carrie shrugged. With her index finger she traced his naval. “I wanted to try swallowing but it was a lot.” Her hand returned to his erection. “You could go again, couldn’t you?”

  “Probably. Yeah.”

  “I think I could too,” Carrie’s smile was impish and inviting. She glanced at her alarm clock. “I wonder if we’ve got enough time after all.”

  “You mean the real thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  Freddy grinned and reached for her. That very moment he heard the quiet rumble of the garage door opener clattering to life.

  Carrie’s eyes went wide. Wordlessly she bounded off the bed and scrambled for her clothes.

  Freddy did not move. He watched Carrie fumble with her panties. With a muttered curse, she kicked them aside and stepped into her dress without them. He was almost in a daze. The goal was his, his hands nearly on it. To have it yanked away like that …

  “Shit, Freddy, get dressed!” She hurled his pants at him and ran for the bathroom.

  They just made it. Freddy was at the foot of the stairs, seemingly waiting for Carrie. His gaze was set on the landing above when the kitchen door opened. Nancy came in, her arms laden with grocery bags. With the heel of her shoe she slammed the door.

  “Honey, I’m back!” She called out overly loud. “Did Freddy come by?” From the corner of her eye she could easily see him standing there.