New Beginnings

by Elle M Thomas

  “Another swim in that bikini would be out of the question today.” He was still serious but softened a little.

  “Gray, it's fine. Last night was great, if a little intense, but still great. I have never done that before, not like that and the one and only love bite I have ever had was when I was seventeen and I had to wear a polo neck for a week. In August.” She laughed.

  Laughing with her, he asked, “You're sure?”

  “Positive and at least I don't have to wear a polo neck, they give me a double chin. Now, what's for breakfast?” she asked brushing past him.

  Eve spent most of the day wearing Gray's t-shirt and enjoyed slobbing around his flat, some of the time alone. He had some calls to make, e-mails to send and a few 'bits' to sort for the week ahead at work which didn't bother her at all. She wasn't needy in a relationship, never had been. Sitting on the sofa with her feet stretched across the huge footstool she sat with a can of pop and a bag of crisps while watching Bridget Jones' Diary for the umpteenth time and thought that this could actually be the best way to spend a Sunday afternoon, well, maybe the best way to spend a Sunday afternoon alone.

  “Are you planning on festering in my t-shirt all day?” came a friendly voice from the top of the stairs startling Eve a little.

  “Depends on whether you have a better offer for me.” She grinned cheekily.

  “Loads, but I need food, so get dressed and we'll go for lunch and maybe we could talk some more,” he suggested but without the option of debate.

  “Okay, maybe you could talk today because you were supposed to be telling me about your parents when...”

  “When you needed kissing.” He grinned impishly making Eve laugh at him.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Now clothes, quick.” He made as if to chase her up the stairs making her squeal and then stop and turn to find him still at the bottom of the stairs...

  “You know, I'd let you catch me,” she told him.

  “I figured as much, but I need food, we need food. Dressed!” he shouted, pointing towards the top floor but as she turned and continued her ascent he smiled, a happy, content smile, a smile he resented slightly because he didn't quite understand it. Didn't understand why or how she made him feel how he felt right now, feelings he was struggling to name. He just knew that his whole body was swelling with pride and happiness, but it was more. He felt as though he was a bottle of fizzy pop that had been shaken and he was set to burst with the swell he was containing in his chest, his heart? No! He chastened himself disapprovingly thinking he was beginning to sound like a bit lame and girly, like Sam and her love at first sight philosophy.

  No, this was something else, it had to be, endorphins maybe from the sex that wasn't quite sex, not in its most obvious sense, but God it had been hot and horny and he still couldn't believe just how responsive she was. How she'd come just from him sucking and teasing her tits, the same tits he'd held his dick between and fucked, a tit fuck. His first real tit fuck since his first tit fuck with Lisa O'Shea when he was sixteen and it wasn't quite the same. Lisa had begrudgingly allowed him to get her top off, he'd been a little clumsy in assisting her and had ended up straddling her chest and his dick had just so happened to end up between her small breasts that just didn't compare to Eve's and somehow as they moved the friction of it felt good and he came over her chest, in her face, her hair.

  He laughed as he recalled Lisa's expression, she was not happy, and her the vicar's daughter. He'd liked Lisa, with her tiny frame and long blonde hair, his old type for sure and she had been as happy to experiment with Gray as he had with her, apart from the spunk in her hair. She had been far from happy with that, but as his dad used to tell him, 'relationships are about give and take'. Well, he'd already made Lisa come by then, so he'd given, meaning it was her turn to take. She hadn't seen it that way and despite him offering to make her come again she'd stormed off.

  So maybe last night was his first tit fuck, technically; his first like in porn movies where the girl didn't get pissed off about spunk in her hair or chest or face. In fact, when Eve smiled and licked her lips to saviour what she could reach he'd just wanted to roll her over and fuck her properly, period or no period. Adjusting the erection that was uncomfortably straining against the jeans he was wearing, he wondered how much convincing Eve would take to go with that whole period sex thing. She'd been tempted last night, in the shower, afterwards when he'd casually said about sex in the shower and the water washing all the evidence away. He had been referring to the evidence of the tit fuck but as soon as he saw the glimmer in her eye, he’d known what she was thinking.

  Stepping out onto the terrace, he sat on his steamer, flicked his legs up and stretched out. He could imagine lying like this with Eve across him, fucking him alfresco, completely oblivious to anyone that may have a view of them. This wasn't helping at all, but now he couldn't think of anything else but her; seeing her after the damned period ended or their first night at The Stanford, their next night, their date night at The Stanford or just last night. His mind drifted back to just how well she'd played innocent little virginal Eve, albeit briefly, but next time he would have her play it to the bitter end.

  His mind went back to how sensitive her tits were to his touch, how she begged him to squeeze them harder, to bite them and then as he got back to his tit fuck in his mind he remembered how she'd half sat up after she'd licked her lips and proceeded to lick him, to circle the tip of his dick, paying special attention to that ultra-sensitive bit where his foreskin joined his dick. He really needed to stop this, or else he was going to come in his underwear, and he hadn't done that since before Lisa O'Shea, unlike Eve. Why did he love to do that to her? It was almost like making her soil herself and when he looked at her underwear and the trail of her arousal was obvious, her arousal for him, it made him want her even more. How did she get to be so comfortable with sex, with him? He had known women longer than Eve and had long term if casual sexual relationships with them and they had never been so at ease, so accepting of how they made each other react and the consequences to it, but then they weren't Eve, none of them came close. She wasn't even that sexually experienced if he was only her fifth partner in ten years.

  He recalled every girl he’d ever had sex with and was unsure if any of them would have been so cool about the marks he'd left on her last night, but she was. He was the one who'd been shocked by it, not her, well, not by the time she came downstairs, wearing his t-shirt and it had never looked so good. That was something else, he had always hated it if a girl put his top or his shirt on post coitus, as if laying some kind of claim to him and yet this morning he'd loved it, he loved that she wanted his clothes next to her bare skin, his scent.

  He remembered that Sienna often did that, and he always got pissed off with her and would say there was no need as they were always at her place, so she had no shortage of clothes of her own. He used every excuse he could think of; it's too big, you'll stretch it, you'll make it smell, it'll make you smell. I just don't like it was one he’d actually used once, towards the end of their…their what? Relationship seemed to give it more credence than it ever deserved. That was the time she'd told him that if he didn't like it maybe he should remove it from her for himself and knowing she was naked beneath it he’d succumb to the temptation, and had fucked her so hard they must have looked like wild animals rutting. He was trying to show her that he was in charge, and that she couldn't manipulate him, although the complete opposite was true at that point, he didn't love her, he didn't trust her and he didn't know why, but he didn't. He hated the fact that his mother had adored Sienna, which she really had, still did.

  As he fucked her roughly that day while she still wore the shirt, she revealed the reason why his mistrust of her was well placed and gave him the perfect excuse to break off their engagement, not that he would ever have married her. He had been manipulated into that too, which is how he managed to put Sienna down as just a girl he used to screw, no more. She wasn
't his girlfriend, not to him and certainly not after she indiscreetly said the worst thing she could ever have said to Gray.

  Lying spent and sated with her irritatingly draped across his chest she slipped a leg over his and said, “Your mother was right about me, I am the perfect girl for you.”

  He’d leapt from the bed shouting for answers, when, where, why? And then it all became clear; he’d been set up by his mother, she wanted to control him and to have him back in her clutches, she couldn't do it herself, Sam couldn't. No, Sam wouldn't so she found him a bride, one of her choosing who would be, just his type, and sent her on holiday. She'd paid for Sienna to go on holiday and staged it all so that she constantly popped up in the same places for the first three days, including the outward flight and by the third day he'd warmed to her, well, he fancied a bit of a holiday fling and somehow when they got home she was in all the places he was and that's how it happened, yet something had made him hold back, fortunately.

  Sienna had begged him to forget condoms more than once, but he didn't trust her, so always declined the invitation, thank goodness. He still didn't know how he’d ended up engaged to her.

  “Right,” called Eve from the flat and then appeared next to him. “I do like this.” She gestured around them. “I could join you down there and we could phone for pizza,” she suggested seriously.

  “Not today, baby, come on.” Gray felt irritated now, not by Eve but by Sienna and his mother.

  Unsure why his mood seemed a little heavier Eve said nothing, but willingly accepted the hand he offered and followed him downstairs to the car where they drove in near silence to a nearby restaurant.

  Once seated and having both ordered a fairly predictable Sunday lunch of roast beef, Eve finally broached the subject of Gray's mood. “Are you okay? Have I done something?” she added, growing more nervous.

  “Fine!” he snapped and winced as he saw her recoil at his sharp tone. “Sorry, I’m being an arse. I stupidly allowed myself to think while you were getting dressed. You look lovely by the way.” He smiled.

  She returned his smile, gazing down at the bright, botanical floral print, cropped trousers that she'd teamed with a plain, black, crew neck t-shirt and heeled, mock croc, leather court shoes.

  “I don't mean to pry, but if I have done something, or said something I would rather you just told me,” she told him apprehensively.

  “What? No, Eve. Look, when you were getting dressed I was thinking about things, things in the past and my mother and it just makes me a bit agitated and now I’m thinking that Sam is going to be a pain in the arse all week about this charity garden party.” He looked tired suddenly.

  “Gray, I told you about my mum and in some ways her apathy makes my life easier but I would never try to offer you advice, so you should decide what you want to do and do it,” she suggested.

  “If it was just me, I would never see her again, but Sam...” His voice trailed off.

  “You're going on Saturday then,” she said as a fact more than a query.

  “Yup. Come with me, Eve, please,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair, nervous possibly, although his tone was pleading more than nervous.

  “I told you I would, if you wanted me to, but I don't mind if you would rather do it without me.”

  “I don't ever want you tainted by her, and yet I can't bear to think of going without you,” he admitted candidly.

  “That'll be a date then, Skipper,” she declared with a salute making him laugh.

  “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked, seriously wondering what the answer was when she laughed.

  “You are not the first to have asked themselves that question and most people decide that Karma is just a bitch.”

  Laughing at herself, he smiled warmly and wondered how anybody who had ever had her would think Karma was a bitch if it had delivered her to them.

  “I suppose I should answer your question from last night about my parents,” he announced, startling her slightly.

  “Not unless you want to,” she reassured him. “I don't need your life story and I have probably shared enough for us both this weekend.” She meant what she said and if his mood swing had been triggered by mere thoughts of his mother maybe now was not the time, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t like to know what his deal was.

  He stared at her and believed every word she was saying which was enough to prompt him to speak, “I think Karma is an angel, Eve. My parents met when my dad was at uni studying law after he’d had a stint in the navy, and they married after he graduated. They both came from fairly well off and professional families although my mum had decided she wanted to be a hairdresser and enjoyed it and was good at it, she is very image conscious. I was born and she gave up work and then Sam was born a couple of years later. We had a pretty good childhood until I was about ten or eleven when my parents started to argue. We'd hear them late at night and usually after her screeching and throwing something it would stop and the next morning breakfast would be a silent affair.

  Eve nodded with empathy rather than sympathy as she recalled witnessing and hearing the breakdown of her mother’s marriages and although she had always found the process sad, she knew it must be harder if both parties were your parents and somehow you’d feel obliged to come down on a side. She never had because no matter what, she would always be only her mother’s daughter. With a sad smile she realised that if asked she would never have fallen on her mother’s side because she was always the one in the wrong, every time.

  Gray continued to explain about his childhood. “At weekends Dad would take me and Sam out or away for the weekend, on the boat, fishing, climbing, whatever and it was great, but Mum began to shut herself off from us all. It carried on like that until I was about thirteen and Sammy was eleven and the old man died, dropped down dead, heart attack, just like that,” he said with a wobble entering his voice as he snapped his fingers to show the shocking speed of his father's death.

  “Oh Gray, I am so sorry.” She quietly reached for his hand across the table. A sense of guilt fell over her thinking that she had asked, suggested he should share with her about his parents.

  “Excuse me.” The waitress realised that she may be interrupting, “Madam, sir,” she smiled as she placed their plates before them and after ensuring they didn't need anything else, she left them alone again.

  Gray continued to talk as they ate. “He had a massive heart attack, in his office. I went to school one Friday morning looking forward to whatever he had planned for us for the weekend and when I came home, he was gone, Eve. The house was full of people, yet I had never felt so completely alone,” he admitted, making her heart wrench for him. “It took a while to sort his affairs out and it transpired that he had made provision for me and Sam, good provision, money, property, shares, insurance, everything, and all tied up until we each reached twenty-one, but not so much for my mum. She was furious. There was money allocated from his estate to keep us all, but she got nothing, even the house was held in trust.”

  “Why? Why would he do that? I know you said they were having problems, but...”

  “A bit extreme?” he asked, to which she nodded her reply. “You see, I get that, the extremity of his actions. I am a lot like him in that sense.” He smiled proudly at making a comparison between himself and his dad.

  “That whole all or nothing thing?” she asked to clarify.

  “Mmm. My mum was beyond pissed off at being allocated an allowance and having to prove what she was spending it on, which I understand too. Later, Mum said that they argued because the old man was jealous and thought she was having an affair, which she always denied and I think I believed that, but the more she protested her innocence the more he disbelieved her and he cut her off really, emotionally. I can see that he fought dirty by distancing me and Sam too, however she was drinking at the time, too much so I also think he was distancing us from that. I don't blame her for the state of their marriage, or his death or for being pissed off a
t how he left her, not even for becoming more of a lush with every passing day, but what she did afterwards was unforgivable, baby.”

  “Gray, you really don't have to tell me this, you know,” reassured Eve, hoping he would continue though because that would indicate that he trusted her and she knew he didn't trust easily and maybe that indicated that he had feelings for her too. She was startled to realise that she wanted him to have feelings for her but stopped dead in her tracks before she went on to look at her own feelings for him.

  “I want to tell you, Eve,” he said simply and continued. “A couple of months after he died, she stripped the house of every trace of him. He was boxed up and put in the garage, out of sight. I don’t doubt that she would have binned the lot had she legally owned anything. I resented her and started to spend more and more time out there, with him, with his things and at weekends Sam and I used to camp out with him, but Mum, well, she was living the life of a very merry widow. She was out most nights and certainly all weekend returning in a dishevelled state reeking of alcohol. Then she started to bring this bloke round, he was a bit dodgy, that much was obvious, and he had no interest in us, even less than her. I further resented how easily she'd got over my dad and we were arguing one night about this bloke when she said, your precious father drove me into Ray's arms and I decided then that the old man had been right and she had been having an affair so I told her that I wished she had died instead of my dad and she slapped me, maybe almost as hard as Annette hit you.” He smiled, making her smile, but a sad smile.

  They were sat at a table that could easily have sat four or five, a rectangular table and a horseshoe cushioned bench and although they were sitting opposite each other, Eve slid all the way around the seat until she was sitting next to him, lifting his closest arm up and draping it around her shoulders.