Dirty Nights

by A. M. Hargrove

  His shrink? He was eating pizza with his shrink?

  “Your shrink? As in psychiatrist?”

  “Yep. Dr. Martinelli. She does a lot with substance abusers. In fact, I was gonna recommend her for your mom. But no, you take off like someone lit a firecracker up your ass. So you gonna tell me what that’s all about?” He’s smirking now.

  Gah, I’m such a loser.

  “Uh, yeah, I thought I left the oven on.”

  “So, you what? Decided to go somewhere else first? Cuz I’ve been here now for an hour.”

  I drop my head in embarrassment.

  “Skylina, were you jealous?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. Hurt. Oh darn. I saw you there with her and it just hurt me. So I ran.”

  That beautiful mouth of his breaks into a big grin. My stomach tightens and a current zips down to my core. I’m wet between my legs. Just like that. My breath rushes out and I lick my suddenly dry lips.

  “Now you know how I feel.”

  “I quit. My jobs. I called J.D. and told him. And I’m hunting for a new job. But I’ve gotta get my GED.” Gah, this is embarrassing. My head drops down again and my face burns like fire.

  His fingers are beneath my chin and they lift it, forcing me to meet his eyes.

  “Why the long face?”

  “I’m a drop out.”

  “So? I’m a drug addict.”

  “So? I’m a stripper?”

  We laugh. Then his mouth catches mine in a kiss that melts the clothing right off of me. Or so it seems. Somehow I’m naked and he’s feasting on my granite-like nipples.

  “God, you taste so good. Sweet and salty.”

  “Ryder, I need to shower. I ran and got all sweaty.”

  “Love sweaty.”

  “No. I’m not clean.”

  “I like you dirty. Besides, I want to do the dirty to you.” He stands and removes his shirt, then pants. His muscles stand out, powerfully. He’s so much more sculpted now than before. Huge.

  His cock is fully erect and my mouth waters at the sight of it. I wrap my hand around it, and its heat makes me grow even wetter. He sits on the edge of the sofa and says, “Face away from me and ride it. I know you’re already wet, aren’t you babe? Work your slickness around my head, and then sit on me.” He commands, I obey. I inch down on him and it seems like forever since I’ve felt this kind of ecstasy. His cock stretches my channel until I don’t think I can take any more and then he starts thrusting. His piercing reminds me of why I love fucking him so much. I’m just about to topple over that ledge, when he stops and lifts me off of him.

  “What are you doing?” I whine.

  “Prolonging your pleasure.” He grins. “I want you to multiple on me again.”

  “I don’t care about that. I just wanna come.”

  “Oh, you will, Skylina. You will. Put your ass on the edge.”

  He lays on top of me and puts my legs around his waist. Then he starts that motion again. His cock moves so deep I want to scream. He touches me in places that I never knew were there. Nerve endings spring to life and shoot their pleasure currents into me as he fucks me.

  “Kiss me.” I do and I’m lost in the combined sensations of his tongue against my tongue and his cock sliding in and out of my pussy. While we kiss, he takes my legs and puts them over his shoulders and now he’s so deep, he’s at the pleasure-pain threshold and I’m getting ready to tumble into my orgasm again. And he ferking stops.

  “No! No! No!” I yell as he pulls out completely. “Ryder! Please. Oh, God. I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

  “Don’t. You. Dare.” He’s totally serious. “Stand up and turn around.” I hop, and I mean hop to my feet and he slaps my ass. Hard. It stings like fire but I feel myself get even wetter. He slaps me again.

  “How many, Skylina?”

  “Five.” Three more and I’m going to come if he hits me again.

  He sits on the edge of the couch and says, “On my cock, now, facing me this time. And slow, Skylina.”

  I start to slide down and whack, he says, “I said slow.” So I go very slow.

  “Oh, God.”

  He rolls my nipples and I moan. Then he squeezes them until they hurt. Soon they become numb from his pinches.

  “Take me all the way in. Now ride me hard, baby.”

  I ride him hard and fast and in the middle of my joy ride, he releases my nipples and I scream as I come.

  “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” Then he takes his finger and flicks my clit. Hard. Over and over. And I slip into that multiple state again. His hands grip my ass cheeks, spreading them as he rocks his hips fast and hard into my slick sex. He groans as he comes, and I feel his warmth spurt in my tunnel. His lips caress my neck and move to my mouth, where he hungrily kisses me, fucking my mouth and taking everything in that kiss he possibly can.

  Then he stops and murmurs against me, “I’ve missed the hell out of you too, Skylina.”

  Best birthday present ever.

  Part Three

  ONE

  Ryder

  This isn’t supposed to be happening … I want Skylina with every living and breathing molecule in my body. But I’m so fucked up right now; I don’t think the timing is right. Dr. Martinelli has convinced me I have some major issues that need to be dealt with before I can function in a healthy relationship. But what about her? She’s every bit as crazy as I am, not to mention her background.

  Dr. Martinelli faces me and she waits. “Ryder, tell me. You’ve been vacillating on this too long.”

  Sometimes I want to strangle the woman. But she’s good. She sees through all my bullshit … all my smoke and mirrors.

  “Yeah, okay. I was little. Maybe five or six. It didn’t mean much then. I overheard my mom and dad. They were arguing, about my mom and her ballet. She was good. The prima donna at one time. My aunt claims there was no one like her … ever. The most stunning lines … curves and leaps … and she could hold a position. That’s very difficult, you know. Your muscles are exhausted and frazzled to the extreme from everything they’ve been through and the final movement is no movement at all. It’s still … a freezing of the body in a position in which it was never meant to be.” Lost in images of myself, my mind drifts.

  “Ryder, you still with me?” She snaps her finger in front of my face. “Spill.” Her firm voice brings me back.

  Rubbing my face, I say, “Sorry. Anyway, my parents were arguing and my mom said something like¸ ‘It’s all his fault. I can’t do it anymore. My body’s different. My hips don’t move the same.’ And my dad was arguing back, disagreeing with her. And they went on and on. Doors slammed and I could hear my mom crying. I asked my dad and he shouted at me to go and play with my toys. It scared me so I ran to my room. I wasn’t used to hearing them yell at each other. I hid in the closet for a while and stayed there until my dad came to find me. He pretended everything was fine, but he took me out that night and I went and stayed with my aunt for a while. When I came home, my dad said that my mom wouldn’t be dancing any more. The older I got, the more it made sense. Then one day, I came right out and asked my mom. She denied it, so I went to the person I knew I could always count on. Aunt Emmy. She told me that my mom was angry, not because she got pregnant with me and that her body changed, but because she never intended on loving me so much. I didn’t believe her. My mom’s true love was ballet and she never intended to get pregnant. I put the kibosh on her career. I ruined her plans. She pretty much let me know that too. If it hadn’t been for Aunt Emmy, I would never have been allowed to dance. She snuck me out of the house and took me to lessons. She persuaded my mom to enroll me in the different dance academies. And then when it came down to it, she was the one who bargained with them to allow me to go to London to train with The Royal Ballet School. After that when I wanted to diversify my training into contemporary, Aunt Emmy was the one who made them understand the importance of moving to the Joffrey Ballet School. When I started auditioning, my mom told me I didn’t have
what it took to make it to the lead. That I would never become the danseur noble. She never believed in me. And I knew it. It was my Aunt Emmy I would dance for. Not my mom or my dad. My dad was better, but he would’ve rather I be aiming for goals as a New York Ranger. So now you know.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah. Me. The unwanted kid.”

  “That’s all you got for me? No molesting by some toothless uncle? No fondling by some sweet old aunt? Or nanny?”

  “No, damn it. My mom didn’t want me. She got pregnant and I ruined her career.”

  “I’m throwing your ass under the bus on that one Ryder, because I call bullshit on that. She was whiney. Maybe felt sorry for herself because none of her contemporaries had to go home and act energetic for a child like she did. But you want to know the truth? Your aunt was dead on right. If your mom wanted to dance, she would’ve let the damn nanny raise you and danced her heart out. But the truth of it is, she loved you more than she loved dancing and it bowled her over. She never expected it. So, my dear, the unwanted became the wanted. And the loved. She probably didn’t want you to go to London because— how old were you when you went?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Well hell. I would never let a kid of mine go away to school, overseas no less, at the age of twelve. Are you kidding me? That would kill me! And perhaps she wanted to dissuade you from that life because she knew what kind of a toll it takes on a human being. And how much of life you miss growing up. All the teen stuff. Prom, girlfriends, school events, that sort of thing.”

  She’s debunked my theory in a matter of minutes. Well, seconds, really.

  “Get over yourself already and move on.”

  “Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

  “Life’s harsh, Ryder. You of all people should know that.”

  Boy do I ever.

  “Yeah so while you mull that one over, let me run through this whole thing again. Mom gets pregnant and has Ryder. Quits ballet. Dad wants a hockey player. Gets a ballet dancer instead. Ryder thinks he’s not loved. Oh, wait. Were your parents ever cruel to you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Just verifying you weren’t abused.”

  “Stop being an ass.”

  “Only if you stop feeling sorry for yourself. Here’s the deal. You’re one hell of a package. Yeah, okay, you dropped down the rabbit hole and spent some time in Wonderland. Then you figured out that it wasn’t so wonderful after all. But you got your head together … well, partly. You’re back in school and you have one heck of a goal my friend. Give up that vigilante crap and you’re good to go. Quit worrying about how unworthy you are for Skylina and do something about your relationship with her. Help her. You have the ability to do that.”

  “But she’s got issues.”

  Dr. Martinelli shrugs. “I have issues, you have issues. Who doesn’t?”

  “Hers are terrible.”

  “She seems like she’s handling everything just fine. You’re the one that has issues with her issues.”

  “But, she’s …”

  “Ryder, you can’t fix her. She’s not broken. She’s not a plastic toy with a cracked doohickey. Okay? You’re not in here to discuss Skylina’s issues. You’re here to talk about yourself. Now what else for today?”

  Damn woman shut me down!

  “Thank you.” I stand to leave.

  “Ryder, how are your compulsions?”

  “Much better.”

  “No urges?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She inspects me. “Are you having sex?”

  This is unexpected.

  “Well?”

  “Yes.”

  “With Skylina?”

  “Of course. Who else would I be having sex with?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Ryder, I’m not blind. I’m sure you could have your pick of any number of women.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Be careful. With Skylina. You’re in love with her.”

  My ass plops back in the chair. My throat feels like a clamp is crushing it.

  “Yeah. Right you are, doc.”

  “She doesn’t know, does she?”

  “I imagine she suspects it, but I haven’t told her.”

  “Be careful, Ryder. You’re both fairly fragile right now. You know where to reach me if you need me.”

  My mind is munching on everything she just fed me. All this time I’ve been groveling around, feeling sorry for myself because of my mom. How did she figure that out in a few minutes? And Aunt Emmy—she was right all along. Which reminds me, I need to call her. She’s left me two messages and I haven’t called her. Later … right now my brain needs to process this all.

  Skylina left me a text and when I check it, it’s about her mom. Something’s happened. As soon as she answers the phone, her voice tells me all I need to know.

  “I’m on the way.” I hop in the first cab I can get and meet her in the ICU waiting room.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Her heart. It went into some weird rhythm or something and they don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Her body sinks into mine as she shudders with the force of her tears. “Oh, Ryder, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have left her in the hallway so long.”

  “Shhh, babe. This is not your fault. Her heart was probably weakened from all the years of drug and alcohol abuse. You can’t use like she did and expect not to have some kind of consequences on your body. Look at her liver as an example. She chose to do this to herself.”

  Skylina looks so sad I want to erase all the hurt for her. This dirty mess her mother’s made, and now her life is hanging by a thread, angers me. For everything she’s put her daughter through, this is the icing on the cake. There is a row of chairs close by so I walk to them, bringing Skylina with me. When we get there I sit and move her around so she can sit too.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know. A few hours, maybe.”

  Tucking her into my side, I put her head on my shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  We sit together, just like that. Not much later, the doctor comes out and calls her name.

  “Ms. O’Donnell?” She flies to her feet and I follow her.

  “I’m sorry, miss. We did everything we possibly could. We simply couldn’t get your mother’s heart to maintain a normal rhythm. She had several seizures, which is typical in cases such as hers, but her heart must’ve been too weakened by all the drugs. We were aware of her liver damage, but her heart couldn’t hold up. Would you like to see her?”

  “No, I want to remember her as she was before all of this. When she wasn’t an addict.”

  “I understand. We’ll have some paperwork for you and then we’ll need to know what you want to do with her,” the doctor says.

  “Do with her?”

  “Her, er, er …”

  “Skylina, a funeral service, babe.” Skylina’s face registers shock. Then it settles in and her eyes squeeze shut as tears dribble past. She buries her face in my shirt.

  “Doctor, we’ll figure it out.”

  “Thank you. And I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once the floodgate closes again, but while she’s still wrapped in my arms, I ask, “Do you have a funeral preference?”

  Her head shakes back and forth. “No. No funeral at all. Mom had no friends. I don’t know of anyone that would come. I want her cremated and I’ll put her ashes somewhere. I don’t even know of a place that was important to her. The only things she cared about were drugs. Maybe I could find a poppy field somewhere.”

  Her humor makes me laugh and she ends up laughing with me.

  “Skylina. Do you want to talk to Dr. Martinelli? I know you feel like this is your fault, but it’s not. Maybe talking to a professional would help you see things more clearly.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think I can afford her.”

  “She’ll work with you. Let me c
all her for you when we get this cremation thing settled.”

  “Thank you, Ryder.”

  Soon, a nurse meets us and expresses her condolences. Then there are papers for Skylina to sign and arrangements with a mortuary. They have several recommendations, and she chooses one.

  We leave the hospital and during our walk home, I call my shrink and explain the situation. She says she’ll gladly talk with Skylina. I hand my phone over to her and they set up an appointment. Well, isn’t this nice? One big happy family at Dr. Martinelli’s. Maybe we can all go together, I chuckle to myself.

  TWO

  Skylina

  Although it’s been ages since Mom went to Central Park, it was the only place that came to mind when I rummaged through my memories of happier times. Ryder and I carry her ashes here on a sunny afternoon and sprinkle them on the edge of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. She used to enjoy watching the ducks swim here, so we agree this would be an appropriate spot for her final resting place. Weirdly enough, I feel no sense of sadness, only relief that she’s no longer fighting the demons that controlled her.

  My appointment with Dr. Martinelli is tomorrow. There are so many things that need to be discussed. I wonder how she’s going to peel the layers of my onion. Gah, poor woman. My lips vibrate with the bubble of laughter that sneaks past.

  “Did I just hear you laugh?”

  “Yuh huh.” Then it gushes out of me.

  “What is so funny?”

  When I can talk intelligibly, I explain. “Dr. Martinelli is going to think I’m a freaktard. Oh my gosh. First, the ugly divorce. Then the wicked stepmom. Then the drugged out mom. Then the hooker life. Then the stripping. Holy shiz, Ryder. She’s gonna ferking flip when she hears my story. And after I tell her about some of my clients … huh!” My hand flies to my mouth as I suck in my breath because I never ever wanted to go there with him.

  He shakes his head. “Skylina. I’m not stupid. It’s not like I don’t have an imagination or can’t think about things you did.”

  “But they never … I mean …”