by L. B. Dunbar
“Fight me, Elma.”
I stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. I could see by the way he was holding himself: his chest high, his breaths deep, he was bracing for a punch, and he didn’t intend to fight back. He was willing to let me kick his ass. I cursed myself, for catching a glimpse of his ass, firm and rounded in the loose material of his shorts. I determined there was another way to fight Abel. I danced.
The music played and I spun away from him. He moved like the fighter he is and turned with me, following my lead. I continued to twirl around him, adding in pirouettes at rapid speed. He only rotated as I circulated; pivoting in the direction I twirled, but never leaving his spot. His eyes danced with me as they followed every sashay and leap I made around him. I circled him like he was prey, a cat toying on the edge of a pond, anticipating the movement of an unsuspecting fish. I prowled around him, drawing closer, and at times his hand came out to touch me. His palm graced my stomach. His fingers cascaded down my back. I kicked up and landed down in a crouch, ready to pounce.
Abel lowered himself to the floor, as I continued to roll and split on the hard wood. My new dance was taking on moves of the one prior to his entrance. My legs scissor kicked as I lay on my side, then twisted to plank over the floor. I crawled toward Abel, forcing him onto his back. I lowered myself over him with several deep thrusts of my hips, but withholding a connection to his body. I slowly stood, still straddling over him, then lowered as my hips moved side to side. Abel’s hands reached up to touch me, but I shimmied upward and away from him again. I repeated the motion, once he realized he could watch the show, but not reach out to be part of it yet. Abel exhaled heavily and groaned. Control: he was exerting it, but I had it in the moment. I jumped and spun, landing with both feet on opposite sides of him. In this position, I faced away from him. He hadn’t flinched and he suddenly had a delicious view of my backside.
While I continued to shake from left to right over him, I sensed Abel’s movement. He was slowing rising behind me. My dance moves took on some of those used at Carrie’s as I rolled my hips from one side to the other, ran my fingers into my hair to lift the weight, and glanced over my shoulder at Abel. His hands covered my hips, and instantly I was pulled back against him. I swiped from left to right against the obvious length of him. To my surprise, he met my moves and began to sway in the direction I led. He held me firm to him, though. My backside was grinding against him. Within seconds, Abel’s hands began to roam. Upward they spread over my stomach, making their way to my breasts. The anticipation was exhilarating and a warm rush pulsed through me. His hands cupped each breast and he moaned into my ear. His cheek was next to mine, from behind me, and he breathed, “Look at you. You are so beautiful.” His words made me peek at the mirror. We were a vision in the dull light. Abel behind me, hands covering my breasts, working the nipples that were already hard points. My arms went up to circle his neck from behind me, and the front of my leotard was pulled down. Hot hands met cool flesh, and I groaned in desire watching Abel fondle me in the reflection.
I was wanton, a sex kitten, balled up and ready for play. My hips moved in time with his. His hands caressed and squeezed heavy globes. I rubbed my fingers through his hair. Suddenly, his hands took a new course. Downward they traveled and the warm rush rippled through me again. I moved my hands forward to return the leotard to cover me. Abel’s arms went over mine and trapped them under his. It almost looked like a fighter’s hold: my arms wrapped around his back and his pinned mine to his sides. This was not a fight, though. Abel had taken the lead in our dance, and I was willing to let him guide me.
Fingers slid over the covered mound and paused to cup the core of me. I was damp with desire and I ground into the palm of his hand. His other hand gripped my hip, while fingers delved under the elastic band and into slick folds. It was Abel’s turn to grind forward, the length of him so firm, the thought of him inside me so overwhelming. The rhythm of his fingers matched the music, stroke for stroke. I glanced at us in the mirror again. Abel’s head was lowered to my neck; his concentration on his fingers. As I arched my back, forcing my ass against him, I shattered at his touch and Abel’s eyes met mine in the mirror.
“Were you watching us?” he breathed huskily. His voice was water over pebbles. I couldn’t answer but my eyes didn’t lie. Abel moved us awkwardly forward with giant steps. My hands braced for the mirror. As soon as I made contact, a second finger slipped into me. Abel began his ministrations again with the increased tempo of another song. My eyes closed, but the hand at my hip came up under my chin.
“Watch us,” he demanded. “I like to watch you.” The free hand slid to the nape of my neck and scooped up some on my hair. Those tempting lips met my neck with a soft sucking motion, and I instantly imagined what it would feel like to have that warm mouth someplace else. Abel was a multitasker, anticipating my need. His fingers hadn’t lost a beat inside me. His tongue tickled my neck. His eyes observed my response to all the different ways he was touching me. With the insertion of a second finger, I was so slick, I had lost control. My body moved with no regulation. His hips moved in a slow rhythm, separate from me. It was as if his fingers were an extension of him, and he rocked his body to the beat of mine. It was hot to watch him. He wanted me and his length was reaching for me, despite its confines. He groaned as he worked me, and I wondered if he’d come without actually touching me. The thought alone was going to push me over the edge a second time. I imagined Abel coming just from watching me move, and it brought me down hard. I gripped his wrist as we rolled our hips. I didn’t want the sensation to stop and I rocked on his fingers. Another wave was coming and I warned him. I was losing my fight with Abel. My back arched; I purred. Then I fell apart again.
My mind caught up to me and pushed on Abel’s wrist to remove his fingers as my release slowed.
“Elma, I…” he started, as panicked eyes met mine through the reflection of the mirror. I startled him when I spun, so my back hit the glass. Then I slid down the mirror, taking his shorts and boxer briefs with me. Like the crazed kisser in the stairwell, I needed at him. I tugged his shorts to find black boxer briefs, similar to the ones from earlier in the week. I struggled to yank the tight material over the long protruding length of him. He was more than ready for whatever I wished to give him.
“Elma, you don’t…” He was silenced the second my lips hesitantly kissed the head of him. He was thick as I knew he would be. I’d seen how he hung after the fight. Tight skin was stretched and I gripped him firmly with my fingers. I pumped hard, letting the dribble of moisture dampen his head. Ragged jerking motions increased his breathing, and I glanced up at him from where I knelt before him. I steadied the rhythm, matching the rapid music that thumped around us. His hands fell forward, to the mirror at my back, holding him steady. I imagined what he’d feel like inside of me. I wondered if he’d fit. My enthusiasm increased, and in seconds, seed spilled out of him over my tight fist. His hands curled on the mirror, one softly hammering as he pulsed forward in tiny thrusts.
“You don’t fight fair, my rúnsearc,” he breathed.
When our hearts calmed, Elma gathered her things and I escorted her to the door.
“I’d like to take you out,” I blurted, worried that our moment had passed. Elma was going to go back to being mad at me, and I was going to lose her again.
“Tonight?” she laughed. It was late for a Friday night. There weren’t many places still open except a pizza place near campus and the local bars. Neither was what I had in mind.
“Sure. I could follow you home and then you could ride with me…” Her raised hand cut me off.
“No. No, you can’t follow me home,” she paused. “I can just follow you somewhere. Lennie’s is open.” I was taken aback by her urgency for me to not follow her home, but I didn’t pressure her. Lennie’s, on the other hand, was a local sports bar that upperclassmen frequented to avoid the newbie freshman with fake I.D.’s and the newly legal sophomores. It was classier than
some of the traditional college bars that boasted sticky floors and sweaty bodies. It wasn’t a place I had in mind, either. I wanted some place to be alone with Elma, where we could talk.
“How about if you just follow me, okay?”
Agreeing, Elma followed, then parked her yellow VW bug next to my massive black truck in the Frosty King parking lot. Getting out of her smaller car, she laughed at me over the roof while I exited mine.
“What’s this place?” she giggled.
“Ice cream,” I smiled in response. I led her to the window with a hand on her lower back where she ordered plain vanilla, while I ordered black cherry.
“Vanilla?” I chuckled. “That’s sort of plain.”
“I’m a simple girl,” she boasted, pushing her hair dramatically over her shoulder.
“Oh, Elma, rúnsearc, you are anything but simple.”
After we were served our cones through the walk-up window, we returned to my truck. I pulled the tailgate down and lifted Elma to sit on the edge. Her long tempting legs dangled off the tailgate. When I hopped up next to her, she asked, “Why do you keep calling me a shark?”
“Shark?”
“Yeah, roon shark.”
“You mean, a rúnsearc? It’s an Irish term.”
“What’s it mean?”
“Uh,…” How could I tell her the meaning? “It’s a secret.”
“What?” she laughed again. It was the best sound. “Like you’d have to kill me if you told me kind of secret?”
“Something like that,” I replied, shrugging. I wasn’t about to explain what it meant. Not yet.
“So…want to talk?” I asked.
“About what?” she giggled, before that masterful tongue of hers licked over her ice cream. My body shivered and I began to rise again with a need for her.
“I think you know what, Elma.”
She lowered the cone, her expression falling from mirth to confusion.
“Is this where you tell me you made a mistake back there?” Her head nodded to the side, but I knew where she inferred.
“What? No. Absolutely not. Unless you thought it was a mistake?” I asked awkwardly. My mind mentally prayed: Please don’t let her think it was a mistake.
Her smile slowly curled on her lips. “No. I don’t think it was a mistake either.”
We were silent for a moment.
“You know, I kind of like you, Abel,” she teased. The smile on my face grew large.
“I kind of like you, too, Elma,” I replied in a serious tone then bumped her shoulder with mine. It was juvenile, but she could be sweet.
“So if not that, what did you want to talk about?” Her tone was still playful. Her tongue was white with ice cream as she licked the scoop again. My lower region was uncontrollable. I rose stiffer with each lick of that cone.
“I meant…our bro…” Elma’s abrupt turn in my direction froze me as cold blue eyes hit mine.
“Abel,” she warned. “Can we…can we keep pretending for tonight?”
“Pretending?” I questioned. She didn’t respond. She shook her head and sucked at ice cream that dribbled over her fingers.
“Sure, Elma. I can keep pretending,” I thought. It was a farce anyway. Elma Montgomery was never going to be interested in me as anything deeper, now that she knew the truth. My brother might not have killed hers, but hers was dead at Cain’s hand.
We finished our cones with small talk about the fight the next night. Elma said she wasn’t sure she’d be going. Lindee didn’t like the fights, and Elma didn’t like to go alone. She never explained why she was initially interested in Thor as a fighter, but I could only assume it was to get near the circuit. It seemed strange to me that Elma would be interested in the fights, while she held so much hatred of the event that led to her brother’s death. She told me she hadn’t been to one until this semester.
“Why?”
“Just hadn’t thought about it before.” She shrugged.
“Thought about what?”
“Attending. But things changed.”
“Like what?”
“Ah, if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she teased, but her expression grew serious. “It’s that kind of secret.”
I laughed wholeheartedly at her. No, Elma was anything but a simple, plain girl.
Lindee, her cousin, Maggie, and her roommate, Lucie, decided on Lennie’s for Saturday night. It was girls’ night out, Lindee declared and a much needed night on my part. I’d been working hard all week between school, the dance studio, and my mother. She was growing progressively worse in her blackouts; to the point I couldn’t remember her being sober, other than with the continued grunts and groans from her room next to mine. Even then, I’m not certain she was aware of what she was doing, or who. It was getting more and more difficult to be home, knowing a strange man or two was in the room next door. Not to mention, the growing number of empty liquor bottles on the kitchen counter to be tossed each day. With the first anniversary of Montana’s death drawing closer, it seemed my mother was spiraling out of control.
I’d had no time for Abel, despite his repeated interest in a date. I didn’t attend his fight the night after our “dance,” and I wasn’t going tonight either, but I had wanted to. I missed him. I had only seen him in class, where he stole looks at me as I took glances of him. We talked occasionally in quick conversations on the phone, and he sent me texts throughout the day; nothing overly romantic, but still a hint of interest.
Hope you have a great day.
Missed you in lab.
Ice cream Friday night?
I didn’t take him up on the offer. I had explained to him, that no one wanted him to have a single interest. If he wanted women, he had to seem available. It would help his persona. We weren’t dating, so I refused the dates, even though I wanted one. The girls, in and out of class, began to swarm around him. Rumors of desire circulated through the halls, in the coffeehouse, and across the campus. Betta was becoming the new “it” man. The man every girl wanted to do “it” with, according to some gossip.
My jealously flared only a little when I caught Abel signing an autograph or addressing an overeager fan, but he seemed to look to me for approval. One time, I even smiled exaggeratedly and gave him a thumb’s up. He winked at me while he hugged the girl in his arms. This was what Abel had paid me for, only I felt the student had surpassed the master. I really wasn’t a professional flirt, and I really didn’t date a ton of guys. While I had the reputation, I was actually quite alone at times.
Girls’ night was the answer. We dolled up. Lindee let me borrow something clingy and curvy. Maggie wanted to play with my hair, so I let her curl it, and Lindee’s roommate, Lucie, did my make-up. She was a sweet girl, shy and studious. She’d been in Italy for the semester, which she claimed was the experience of a lifetime. She said she’d made a new friend on the trip that was a year older than us. The girl was supposed to join us for the evening out, but she was studying advanced biology and had an exam to cram for that night.
Lennie’s was loud with rock music and jumbo screens with a variety of sports games. Spring was nearing and March Madness seemed to be the talk of the night in the bar. For us, the talk was all men. Lindee assured me there was nothing going on between her and Creed McAllister, but she mentioned him in every other sentence. I was so happy to see her face light up when she spoke of him that I could hardly tease her. I wanted her to move on from memories of Montana. It had been almost a year and she was young. Montana would have wanted it, too. Maggie didn’t seem interested in anyone in particular, although she seemed to have heard of the mysterious Abel Callahan. She claimed she hadn’t met him, only seen him from afar.
“Let me tell you,” she drawled. “He is one fine specimen.”
I bristled at the way her voice lingered on specimen, but I laughed to cover my unease. Lucie had no idea who we were discussing, as she had no interest in the underground fights. When Abel walked in the door with a kid from our human anatomy cl
ass named, Victor Ortega, and Creed, I pointed in their direction. He didn’t see me, but you couldn’t miss him. He no longer sported those button-down dress shirts or his glasses. His muscled arms, with those bright tats, stood out amongst the crowd.
“He is bello,” Lucie said in her best Italian accent.
“Oh my,” Maggie hissed. My only response was to drink down my vodka cranberry. I was suddenly very thirsty.
Abel hadn’t paid any attention to his surroundings. He was drinking a beer and laughing it up with his friends. People came and went to congratulate him on what I could only assume was another win. Girls swam to him and slipped away until her. Keli Hogan strutted in with her posse of followers and stalked right up to Abel. He didn’t really acknowledge her, but she wasn’t letting him ignore her. She’d lifted his arm and placed it over her shoulder, where it limply laid for a while as he talked to his friends, who were slowly including the girls in their conversation.
I noticed that Lindee was eying the small crowd as she sipped her wine. Her eyes darted from Creed to the table, then back to Creed. Eventually, her almond colored eyes met mine.
“Has he seen you?” I asked quietly, while Maggie and Lucie talked about some Italian guy from Lucie’s trip overseas.
“I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We’re just friends.”
Lindee knew how to build a wall. She had to with Montana, I was certain. He was attentive to her when she was present, but when she wasn’t around, Lindee couldn’t trust that Montana didn’t play the field, or rather, the ring groupies.
I’d seen the way Creed looked at Lindee. I didn’t believe he wanted her as only a friend, however, staring over at the growing group, Creed was certainly holding his own to flirt with the brunette next to him. I noticed Abel’s hand had slipped and rested on Keli’s hip. His hand had been on my hip like that only a week ago. Suddenly, I was a freshman again. Cruz Farenbach flashed before my eyes. I went to a party at his fraternity, and there he stood, his hand blatantly on the ass of another. She gave him what he needed, Cruz had argued. I thought I had done that for him.