by Berri Fox
I hear Helen moving almost silently through the kitchen as she gets ready. I can tell she’s trying not to wake me up and that’s nice. She even bought some iced donuts and chocolate croissants at the market because she knows I hate healthy food, especially for breakfast.
By dinner time I can convince my stomach to have some vegetables. First thing in the morning I just need sugar and there is no compromise to be made.
I wait for her to leave before I sit up. I wipe my eyes, a fairly normal thing for a person to do in the morning—but I’m shocked to find tears.
I get a coffee and some donuts and then I just basically sit with my misery for awhile. Its been years since I felt like this—since I let myself feel like this. You can only get hurt if you put yourself out there. So, I didn’t. I don’t think I’ve cried properly since Dads funeral.
I didn’t even cry over Karen.
I may have cried over a few physical injuries, but nothing has made me feel like this.
Like my heart is breaking.
Why does your chest ache when you are the saddest you can be? Why doesn’t it show up on medical equipment? People have died of grief, of a broken heart. Why isn’t there some procedure you can take to stop your chest hurting?
Maybe if they could heal your chest, the emotions would follow soon after.
I finish my coffee and donuts, feeling the sugar rush tingling through me. I look around and I wonder what I should do with myself. Helen and I haven’t discussed payment, not that I really wanted t to be paid. But the fact remains I don’t have much money.
If I stay here, I’ve got everything I need, but I don’t think I can take another day on Helen’s couch watching daytime TV. The apartment is pretty clean so I can’t do that. If I am going to stay, I’ll have to learn to read books or something.
Staying here, doing nothing, it’s tempting.
A couple of days ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But all I see everywhere is Helen. She’s practically all over the walls. If I stay here, I’ll just be staring at what I can’t have.
I feel so lost and powerless that I know I have to do something.
With a wave of frustration rising in me, I find my old clothes. My boots are by the door and my old stuff got washed last night. I pull on my fish nets and throw on my skirt and stretchy top, shrugging into Dad’s jacket. In the bathroom I spike up my hair and make heavy, dark lines of makeup down my face.
I glare at myself. Get out there, bitch. Show the world how tough you are.
I’ve done this hundreds of times, but today this does nothing for my confidence. When I leave the apartment, I feel like a cowering kitten, not a stalking panther.
When I hit the street, I have a moment of panic. Just a few days cooped up in that apartment and I feel like I’ve got some kind of claustrophobia. People rush by me too quickly; the sounds are too loud. I start walking and it feels like every set of eyes on the street is judging me. I can see their faces turning to me to deliver their displeasure.
This really freaks me out.
Because I’m used to this. I’ve always felt like the odd one out, people staring, people pointing. I’ve reveled in it. I’ve been the bad bitch, the crazy one, the one that no one will go near. Scaring up the ‘normies’ is all part of the fun.
Today it’s not fun.
I want Helen by my side, holding my hand. I want to hear her laugh and focus more on her than on the others walking down the street. When she was with me, I didn’t feel adversarial to the rest of the human population. I didn’t feel like I fitted in, either, but none of that mattered anymore.
Because I had Helen.
Walking down the street alone makes me feel like I’m seventeen again and I’ve got nowhere to go. There was some money left in Dad’s accounts that the state took to cover his funeral. They sold the house to pay other debts and gave me a few grand. I had to get a government agency to speak for me because they didn’t want to turn the funds over to a minor.
There was no one else. No custodian, no family, no close friend. Just me and Dad.
Then he was gone. Crashed his bike in the rain. Over.
The last time I felt like this was the first time I ever walked down the street alone. Every day after that got a bit easier, but it took me years to get there. I don’t want to have to do all that work again. If I can just get back my old feeling, then I’ll know I don’t need Helen. I’ll be fine.
But I just want to cry. My arms are wrapped around my chest, my fingers gripping at my upper arms. I see a greasy café not far down the street and I remember I stopped in there once. It has a bar at the back and rough types come and go. My kind of place. Or at least, it used to be.
I wander in and I notice the stares. These aren’t like the stares of the normies. It’s the opposite and its terrible.
Now the freaks are looking at me like I don’t belong.
Paranoid, paranoid. You’re just paranoid.
I need more, I need to prove that I’m still the same Roxy. If I can just get back that emotional detachment then I can stay, I can be Helen’s wife!
I walk into the bar. I try to hold my head up and my back straight, daring everyone in the room with my eyes. Instead I shuffle along, hands on my backpack straps while I stare at the floor. This is no good. I’m going to get rolled.
I stand at the edge of the bar, not wanting to take a stool. I gaze at the alcohol and think about getting a whiskey. My stomach flips at the mere suggestion and I find myself thinking about Helen’s herbal tea collection.
“Hey there.” A big, deep voice rumbles right next to me.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” I mutter at him, more than a little annoyed.
“Hey, baby. Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to be friendly.”
“I don’t need friends.”
“Everyone needs friends! I bet you’re thirsty. How about I get you a drink?”
“Not thirsty.” I start to move away when the jerk wad grabs my arm.
“Hey. I’m trying to be nice. Are we going to have a problem here?”
I think about who I used to be. The girl that existed just days ago. She’d be slapping his face, screaming at him and kicking for good measure.
I just want to cry. I want Helen. I want to be safe in her apartment with my body between her hands and her rope.
That’s the only place I’ve ever felt safe.
I pull back. The guy tightens his grip.
All my pent-up emotion comes roaring out. I scream in his face while I pull my hand free.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I turn and run the second I get myself loose. I hear guys jeering and yelling as I run past them.
Dear God, not so long ago I would have challenged them all to arm wrestles, drinking competitions or darts.
Now I’m just running.
What has become of me? All the strength and shields I spent my whole life building is gone.
Now I need Helen to prop me up. I don’t know what to do. For most of my life I haven’t known what I was doing. It didn’t matter before.
It does now. Everything matters far too much, and I don’t know how to turn it off.
Twenty-One
Helen
I get home from work and I approach my apartment door like it might be rigged to blow. I’m scared to confront Roxy. Part of me hopes we’ll just sit across from each other and not talk—at least that way no one can get hurt.
As I struggle through the hallway, I expect Roxy to come and help me with the groceries. She doesn’t. I start to worry.
I would rather see her in a pile of potato chips and wet towels, jumping on my couch with a bottle of red wine in her hand than not see her at all.
I check the whole apartment and I can’t find her. It doesn’t take Sherlock to figure out that her original clothes and backpack are gone.
She’s gone and she took everything she had with her.
I shut off, something I’ve always been really good at. I carefully put away my
ricotta cheese and yoghurt, but once the cold things have been packed my brain snaps as I look at the rest of the food.
I bought chocolates and chunky, buttery cookies. I brought ice cream and I brought cake. I wanted to surprise my girl. With her favorite fatty foods. Hell, plain dame Helen might even walk on the wild side herself and try some sugar and fat. Why not?
In the spirit of this I take out a massive candy bar and go and sit on the couch. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so miserable or so lost. I can’t focus on anything and the pounding waves that start thumping through me after I eat the candy bar don’t help at all.
I knew it. Staying away from fat and sugar so they couldn’t dictate my moods was a smart idea. How stupid do I have to be to break that rule right now when I’m the most emotionally unstable I’ve ever been?
Now I’m shivery and shaky and I can’t hold it together. It takes time for the sadness to well in my guts, for the cold tremors to reach my throat. When they do my hands come up to my cheeks and that’s when I realize m already crying.
My chest heaves and the tears pour down, hot and stinging. Its been so long since I cried. I literally can’t remember when. I’ve spent such a long time keeping myself calm I actually don’t know how long its been since I felt anything real at all.
Roxy showed me that I was living a half life. She showed me that emotion is wonderful, it’s the only thing worth living for.
And now she’s gone.
I feel like a great tearing rift opens inside me. There is so much about her that I don’t know that I’ll never know. I can’t believe I’ll never get the chance. It feels like I could just reach out and touch her, take back the past few hours and explain everything.
To at least talk, to understand. Not this vast nothingness. I have to see her again!
I can feel my tears turning to anger and I’m perfectly okay with that. Why not hit all the top emotions at their peak? Its been so long since I felt them, I might as well run through the entire spectrum.
I get myself a glass of wine, wiping my face. I see the bridal magazine on the counter, and I realize I haven’t thought about my section since I got home.
I didn’t give a fuck about the magazine. I just wanted my bride.
Even now, I don’t care what I’m going to tell Lisa. Couldn’t give two fucks. If she takes the magazine away from me, so be it.
I down another glass of wine defiantly. I’m a fucking wild child. Deal with it.
Then my door beeps. I hurl myself across the room so fast I almost fall off my heels. When I get there and see Roxy’s cute face framed in the camera, I hit the button and wait by the door, breathless.
I’ll need to give her her own key… Now that she’s going to stay.
She wouldn’t come back unless she planned to stay, right?
I’m standing in the open doorway when she gets out of the elevator. We both move towards each other and when my arms pull her tightly to my chest, I feel a sense of relief I’ve never known. Wow, I really am cycling through all the big emotions. This one tingles over me so hard it makes my skin sing in crippling waves.
I’m saying meaningless things but that’s okay, Roxy isn’t making much sense either. I pull her towards the door at the same time she shoves me and we both fall on the carpet.
I laugh as she falls on top of me, barely recognizing my voice. I’ve only just learned to laugh. Roxy taught me. She’s changed my whole world.
I reach up and grab her cheeks, holding her eyes on mine.
“Don’t go away again, please don’t.”
She blinks at her own tears, nodding. “I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t want me, that it was all for your work.”
I shake my head, desperate to make her understand.
“I don’t even care about the magazine anymore. I just want you. I was so scared when you were gone.”
I feel like there’s more to say. I could say, I love you. I want to marry you. But she just came back. I don’t want to scare her off. I have no idea what she wants.
She leans down and kisses me and as my mouth meets hers all the words melt away. I’ve been holding myself back, trying to give myself the space I needed to become comfortable with making love. I now realize I’m kidding myself, that I’ve been horny as a thorny devil all this time and hiding it behind the same impenetrable mask of calm.
My arms pull Roxy closer to me. I hear little moans rising in her throat as I pull her tighter against my body. Her small hands rub at my breasts through the blouse and I feel myself arcing under her, shivering with need.
One hand finds my thigh and a cry leaps from my lips, almost like pain. When her fingers find me and rub me through the panties my joints sizzle with electricity then I fall limp on the floor, moaning as I try to respond.
I hear Roxy’s little laugh as she squirms up on to her knees, sitting on my hips. She looks at me from her position and reaches for my pussy again. While we stare into each others’ eyes, she presses her fingers against me, the friction of the panties making me shiver.
I feel caught now. The emotional rollercoaster has left me weak. Roxy sits over me with her teeth bared and her little claws pricking at me as she goes for the buttons on my blouse.
“My little panther.” I whisper. She grins with approval and leans down to draw my nipple into her mouth.
My hands come up, stroking her hair. There is urgency running through me, a great need to take her, complete the act. From the first moment I saw her I’ve been fighting my lust. Now that I don’t have to the urge to take her is irresistible.
But I let Roxy pleasure me slowly, starting to undress us both. By keeping my urgency on a leash, I draw out the pleasure. I want to enjoy every single second of this, not just the physical but the emotional as well.
Its all new to me, this inner world, this place Roxy takes me to. I tilt my head back and let her warm hands roam across my body, starting to moan as my hot spots scream for more and Roxy gives a small, satisfied laugh.
Twenty-Two
Roxanne
Right there on the floor in the doorway, we’re tearing each others clothes off. I’ve been wanting to do this since the first moment I saw her. There’s only one reason why wild child Roxy would hold back this long from a woman she was so hot for.
This is not just sex. I knew it when we were doing rope—fuck it, I knew it before that. She’s affected me, not just physically but emotionally.
She’s so innocent really. Cruising through life, taking the easy way, it’s kept her sane. I don’t know if me coming into her life is a good thing or not. Now that she’s had a taste of passion, she’s utterly mad for it.
I run my hands over her breasts as I free them from the blouse. She’s spread out in front of me, long honey hair fanned out against the carper. She raises her arms and wriggles under me and her big, soft breasts shudder under my hands.
I know I can’t stop now. Part of my mind is screaming that I should get the fuck out of here. Nothing is what it seems, and I could get trapped here more surely than anywhere else we’ve ever stopped. Maybe this is why I never stayed still before.
No. I wasn’t running from the idea one of those places could make me stand still. I was running because I hadn’t found a place worth stopping at.
I try to push my thoughts out of the way, but my old reflexes aren’t working. My mind is crowded with singing voices and I lean down and bury my head against Helen’s chest.
Her hand comes up and cups my head. She presses me against her heartbeat, and I’m soothed straight away. Her warm skin against my cheek rumbles with the beat of her heart and I feel my desire rising.
Before I can think I wriggle my way down Helen’s body and push her skirt up. I can hear myself moaning and Helen throws her knees apart immediately. With a quick swipe of my hands the panties are gone, and I lock my arms around her thighs to get as close as I can.
She screams, arching her back. I can’t hear my moans muffling inside her pussy as I try to devour her clit
and slit all at once. I dive down deep, pushing her thighs up to work my tongue inside her. She goes insane, clawing at the floor with her hands and writhing, bucking her hips towards me.
I move back up, trailing my tongue gently along until I find her clit again. I press it between my lips and let my tongue slide on it, pressing against it. Just as she starts to squirm, I bring up my hand, putting one finger in her pussy.
She starts to thrash but I’m not done. I move my finger gently while I punish her clit, looking for the right spot. When I find it, I leave my finger in place, not applying pressure but teasing the G spot until it seems to reach for me.
Helen bucks so hard under me I lose my grip on her thighs. I try to keep my tongue and my finger at their work but with her writhing its impossible. I realize she’s coming harder than she ever has in her life and I get my lips down to her deepest cave to catch the flood with my tongue.
She squirms, letting out a sound almost like pain. She rocks her hips forward and back and I spend a few seconds lapping up her sweetness before getting up to lay beside her.
With her hair curling around her face and cheeks flushed, she looks even more beautiful. The slow, lazy smile tells me everything I need to know, and she folds into my arms, kissing me.
While our hands roam across each other, Helen gets my short skirt up and feels around my panties. I’m so teased up from eating her that I shriek and jump up and down, rocking towards Helen but also jerking like a fish caught on a line.
She grins, grabbing me by the upper arms and rolling us so she’s on top. She presses me into the floor and dives on me. Her nails dig into my thighs and run down to my knees. Her teeth nip at my panties until I’m gasping so hard it feels like crying.
When she finally slips off my panties and slowly, lightly draws her tongue across the outer lips I do cry. No tears fall but the wailing sound is like nothing I’ve ever made before. Helen sighs in satisfaction before moving her lips and tongue deeper.