Nothing special, except you

by Celia Hayes

  «Nolan...»

  «Beg me».

  He grabbed my face, pulled my hair.

  «Please...»

  «Beg me to keep going».

  I scratched at his shoulders, arched my back, eyes wet, and when the last thunderclap rumbled against the concrete, I came, in his arms, holding my breath. Nolan couldn’t wait any longer, he followed suit with a choked moan, pulling out a moment before his seed splashed on me. He spent the last moments of pleasure with his forehead resting against mine, his eyes closed, breathless except for smelling my scent trapped between his lips.

  From that moment onwards, it was like being in an isolated bubble that no noise could reach. His hands held my head up, threaded through the hair falling disheveled on my back. Holding me in his arms, on his knees in front of that endless window. Outside the clouds were breaking over a coast running from one street to another, the distant bay, its lights receding.

  «What else do you want?,» I asked.

  Nolan looked at the city underneath, holding me against his shoulder.

  «I have all I want now, I don’t need anything else».

  As he said that, his hands caressed the outline of the skyscrapers on the fogged glass, on which the last raindrops were still running.

  Christopher Dunn

  I don’t know how many times I’d asked myself what would it be like to own a dream, but you can’t catch dreams, they’re the ones that trap you.

  That night, I picked Madison up in my arms, took her to bed and watched her fall asleep on my pillow. Her hair was falling on her arms, her eyes were closed, her legs tangled in the sheets. I knew then I would never let her go, even if she’d tried to run. I would find her and bring her back to me.

  I didn’t care if it was right or not, I wouldn’t let her leave that room until I managed to get her out of my mind.

  How much is the price of a life?

  I’d already given four years of my freedom in order to have one.

  And it was her fault.

  There had been a day when that woman had taken everything from me, and four year laters, I’d come back to get my dues.

  At first I wanted to make her pay, watch her end up in the street and ask her: how does it feel now? How does it feel on the other side?

  I wanted to fuck her. To show her she could belong to someone like me, if I only wanted her to. Then leave her, move on, close the matter and turn the page. Then I’d touched her, and I could no longer do without her.

  That’s what happens when you own a dream, the dream ends up owning you, in the end.

  I left the bed, lit up a cigarette, leaning against the window, and watched her.

  Naked, she was a fucking dark angel.

  Dangerous, impossible to grasp, beautiful enough to drive you mad.

  The worst was, she didn’t know.

  She looked at me and thought I had trapped her, but I was the one in the cage, prepared to do anything just so I could kiss her. She just didn’t know it yet. And I had little time left to let go of her, because Madison was like poison. Once I had her in my blood, it was over.

  «What are you doing?»

  She woke up when she noticed I was gone.

  Her golden eyes were as sharp as razorblades.

  She saw me standing by that window, cigarette in my mouth.

  Her hair fell in front of her face. She pushed them aside, arching her back.

  I still believed I could get rid of her, instead I was lost.

  I went back to her, climbed on that bed. I would take her again. I would take her until I grew tired.

  «Open your legs».

  She complained, I shut her mouth with mine. There was a taste on her tongue I’d never tasted before, the kind you can’t let go of, that make you ask for more, that make you never stop.

  I placed a hand between her thighs, looked for her, my cock so hard it hurt.

  «I want you to feel my hands on you every time you touch yourself».

  I pinned her wrists against the mattress and started fucking her. I left marks on her body with my fingers. She’d left marks on my soul, the first time she’d looked at me.

  I didn’t want anything left open. I would give her everything back.

  Eight

  I woke up in his bed, no longer knowing what time it was. Not even remembering what day it was. Thursday? Perhaps.

  Nolan was sleeping beside me, lying on his side, his arms stretched across the pillow.

  I slid out of the sheets and picked her shirt up from the floor, moving barefoot in the early-morning sunlight drifting in from outside.

  I stood in front of the mirror. I closed the buttons, caressing the shirt with a hand, ran my fingers through my hair.

  I still had all his marks on me. I brushed against the skin where it was reddened by his bites, I ended up caressing a bruise on my side. My lips were so swollen they hurt, but I felt empty inside, I didn’t even feel the pain, just a weird peacefulness. In the midst of that quiet that didn’t belong to me, I moved to the next room, reached the living room, past glossy furniture and chairs that had never been sat on. The apartment was lifeless, as if it had been designed just to be looked at.

  Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Nolan woke up, and locked himself in the bathroom; I kept listening until I heard the water running in the shower. I didn’t know how long it would take him to get ready, but I had a few minutes to take ownership of his life. To tell the truth, don’t ask me why, I wanted to keep ignoring his secrets. Leave them where he’d hidden them, be content with listening to the sound of his footsteps, as I waited for him to touch me, holding my breath.

  There was the rest of the world however, revolving around us, not just the two of us locked in those rooms. Strangers pushing to get into our lives, to use me as a doorway to reach the unknown universe that had taken the name of Nolan Carter. So I found myself running my eyes over everything he owned, looking for a clue to show me who he was.

  Beep.

  “Nolan, from Rock Industries. They’ve called about the contracts. When are you thinking of coming to the office?”

  There was an answerphone in the background, the noise of a car horn, an alarm ringing at the bottom of the street, the buzz of an elevator out in the hallway. Then there was me, walking between the furniture with its smell of paint, running my hands over the surfaces, studying the places where he moved. The things he read, the surfaces he leaned on after coming back home, where he stretched out when night fell. Trying to patch his routines together, I ended up sitting at an empty desk and opening a drawer. There was a laptop. I tried turning it on, but I supposed it wouldn’t be easy to take a look at his files.

  Password required.

  Password required.

  The message started flashing, so I turned it off and looked around me, not yet knowing what I was looking for. I needed a clue to start with, a sign, something that allowed me to dig in his past, find the very moment in which Nolan had appeared in my life and find out who he had been the day before. Some things can also happen by accident. Because in truth, I found out who Nolan was just by accident, something not even him had predicted.

  I fell into the armchair, the armchair bent back, the backrest brushed against the library and a book fell out.

  I bent over to pick it up and a yellowed newspaper scrap fell from between the pages.

  I stared at it.

  “State prosecutor Harry Richardson forced to resign”, it read.

  Further down I saw a faded photograph, even further, a word circled with a pen.

  “Madison Hill”. My name.

  I realised it hadn’t been Nolan who had entered my life, but me entering his, one day.

  I had a track to follow, at last, something to start with. So I took that newspaper cutting, folded it over and put it back where it was, going over to the sofa. I could no longer hear water running, the answerphone had been turned off, even the street seemed deserted now.

  Still wearing only his shirt, I lifted a c
hair, a corner of the carpet, a pillow.

  «Are you looking for something?»

  Nolan was leaning against the wall, looking at me as he put a cigarette in his mouth. He was wearing only a pair of jeans and his usual smile, but more tired, a lazy, sleepy hint.

  «My clothes,» I replied, but I couldn’t find them, so I went and sat on the edge of the dinner table.

  Nolan came to me, slithered between my legs and forced me to wrap them around his waist.

  He smelled of hot water, of soap, of a sleepless night.

  «I didn’t ask you to go». He ran a hand over my breasts, exposed them, his stare compelling me not to stop him.

  I kept looking at him, as he leaned over to brush his lips over it, his fingers tracing a line running from my neck to the fabric of the shirt, to rip it apart.

  «I need to go to work». I pushed him away.

  «You’re already working». He caressed my face, chasing after my mouth.

  He wanted to kiss me. He liked looking at me as I arched forward to follow his lips, he liked to pull my hair and sink his teeth in my throat, he lost his mind if I took his hands and guided them to my sex. All my resistance fell apart when he spoke to me, when he bit me.

  «For you?,» I whispered.

  «For me». He held me tight.

  «You’re not tired of me?»

  Nolan pulled a calling card out of his jeans pocket.

  «Here’s the number of my personal assistant. Have your stuff brought here. If the wardrobe is not big enough, have the wardrobe changed».

  «Do you want me to move in with you?»

  I read a phone number on the back, and an embossed address. Edison Crow. His study was two blocks away from the office district.

  Nolan didn’t reply. He was looking at me as if what he wanted was obvious, and I was the only one not getting it.

  «For how long?,» I asked.

  «However long it takes». He realised I was not going to humour him. «I don’t have much time, Madison, I like to know where to find you when I need to».

  «And when you will no longer need to?,» I asked, trying to hide the feeling of powerlessness taking hold of me. «Can I keep the wardrobe?»

  He twisted his mouth.

  «You just gave yourself an excellent goal». He ran a hand over my lips, making me part them, wet the tip of his index finger pressing it on my tongue. «Make sure I don’t stop needing to».

  «Anything else?,» I replied, moving my face away, sarcastically.

  «Try to have your lunchtime free».

  «What do you want me to do?,» I got suspicious. It was a natural feeling for me.

  «Didn’t to say you needed to write a piece for Saturday?»

  «You found an interesting topic you’d like to suggest? Ah...» When he clicked his tongue, amused, I figured it out. «You’re the topic. I thought you were not interested in ending up on magazine covers».

  «I’m not interested if you choose what to write, but this time I’ll be the one dictating». He had a strange glint in his eyes I’d never seen. It was determination. «I need a new reputation».

  «I told you I don’t do anything for free».

  «I explained how it works. With me, you only have to ask».

  «Do you want to buy me?»

  «Name a sum».

  «It could be very high».

  «How much would you be prepared to spend?»

  «Name a price, add a zero at the end, and I’ll give you double».

  We found ourselves facing each other, eyes fixed into eyes. I was still clinging to him, short of breath, his hands sneaking under the shirt, looking for me.

  I was wearing nothing underneath, except for that gold pendant.

  Nolan ran his hand between my thighs and started touching me, determined to have me again. In that moment, the phone started ringing again. Perhaps that’s why things went the way they went.

  I think about it sometimes.

  He pulled away from me, answered the phone.

  «Nolan Carter».

  I took my shirt off, left it on the desk and took his wallet from his pocket.

  «Edison… No, I can’t now. Ok, tell me».

  There were a lot of credit cards, a checkbook, an ID cart, his driving license.

  I supposed they were counterfeits. Nolan Carter… There was no Nolan Carter. That’s what I was starting to suspect.

  «This is nice». I took an American Express card and climbed off the table. Nolan put a hand on the phone handle, as I walked by him.

  «Where are you going?»

  I waved him under his nose, as I was walking away.

  «To find a new dress».

  «I’m going to be the one to take it off». It was the only reply I heard from him.

  Christopher Dunn

  I’d never set foot in a gym again, but that morning I needed to unwind, so I put on a pair of jeans and a hoodie and I took a walk around my old suburb. A lot of things had changed around there in four years, but Joe’s was still there. It was like I remembered it. A concrete basement with exposed pillars, the ring, the smell of sweat, those dirty faces staring at you from the benches.

  It had already been open a while when I parked the bike in the yard. It was free to get in if you wanted to watch, fifty dollars to train, a hundred for a two-hour professional class.

  I paid twenty dollars at the till, I just wanted to give the bag a few hard punches.

  «What about Joe?»

  «He’s not here».

  The girl at reception jotted me down on her register.

  «Name?,» she was chewing her gum with her mouth open.

  «John Smith,» I told her, handing her a banknote.

  She didn’t ask for ID. She took the money and pointed at the inside.

  «Wait for your turn. Shower is two dollars. Here’s a locker key, the changing rooms are past the coffee machine». Her nails were painted, her clothes shapeless, and she wasn’t great at her job, but I only wanted a place to be alone and two hours to calm down. I was ok with her too.

  «All right».

  I slung the bag I’d brought with me over my shoulder and went over to get changed.

  Some people were throwing punches in the ring, the receptionist was answering a call here and there, but that was a quiet morning and, if things were still like I remembered them, there wouldn’t be a crowd till six in the evening.

  I took advantage of it to train without being noticed. Just the time to slip into a tracksuit and I was already there, gloves on, flexing my legs. I went heavy on my jags, extending my arm and lounging forward to hit the bag. I didn’t even stop to catch my breath, my head pounded from how angry I was.

  I held the city in my hand, except for that pair of golden eyes. But the only person escaping my grasp was also the only one I wanted, so when I threw a punch it was myself I was aiming for, myself I was angry at. Because I should have forgotten that woman, and instead I kept chasing after her. That’s why I never spared myself, I had promised myself I would only stop when I stopped seeing her every time I closed my eyes.

  Two hours later, I couldn’t feel my arms anymore, but at least I’d stopped thinking.

  I ran a towel over my face and went back to the changing room to take a shower. I found someone waiting for me.

  Liza. I’d fucked her a couple times, we had a thing of sorts going before I chose to go away. Then it had ended. I’d left her with her troubles and I’d gone. Hey, I never said I was a saint, and she’d asked for it anyway.

  I’d called her before leaving, had warned them.

  «Liz, damn it, you need to go. The cops are looking for me, they have your photos with Richardson».

  She’d asked me to take her with me, and I’d left her.

  «Sorry, Liz, you need to get over it».

  She should have listened to me, I was someone it was better to keep away from. But Liza was the type to always fall on her feet. I was sure she would manage one way or the other.

 
And so there she was, still in one piece, not a mark on her…

  She saw me come in and cocked her head to a side, feigning surprise.

  «When they told me they’d spotted you around I didn’t believe it».

  She’d sat on a bench and had waited for me to finish throwing punches so she could speak to me.

  She hadn’t changed. She was still on drugs, she was even thinner than I remembered her.

  «Who told you?,» I asked her.

  She got up and came to me. She’d put on a black dress. Worthless stuff.

  «I can’t remember,» she replied, running a hand over my chest.

  She didn’t want to name names, and I didn’t like that. The less people knew what I was, the less problems I’d have with the Feds.

  I pushed her hand away, and took my shirt off with my back turned on her.

  She started circling me.

  «I didn’t think you’d have the balls to come back, you know that, Chris?»

  «Why?»

  «They’re still looking for you».

  «What do you know about it?»

  «I was left with your mess to fix,» she threatened me, but that hint of anger disappeared when I looked her in the eye.

  «I’ve never had another like you».

  She placed a hand on my trousers, grabbed my cock and started touching me.

  I could fuck her. She wasn’t that bad. Why not?

  «Did you miss me?,» she asked, and placed her lips on my mouth.

  She was ready, I only had to take her clothes off, but I pushed her away.

  «Stop».

  I still had Madison’s taste on my tongue and I realised I wasn’t ready to lose it.

  I looked at Liza and wondered how I’d managed to end up like that, when I’d never lost my head for anyone.

  «Come on, don’t be difficult,» she murmured, rubbing against me.

  I wanted to tell her to calm down, but I overheard the noise of a door opening and when I peeked over my shoulder, I realised someone had come into the changing room, then had run away.

  I didn’t need that, I couldn’t run the risk of someone spotting me at Joe’s.