BREAK ME FREE

by Summer Jordan

  Holding her breath, Tanya grabbed the bed sheets with both hands as Serge entered. Her face scrunched up as she felt him grind into her for the first time, pressing deeper inside with every passing stroke.

  As their excitement heightened, the pace quickened. Tanya held onto Serge as though her life depended on it. She deadened her screams by biting his shoulders as he pounded her into the mattress. “I’m coming Serge. I can’t help it, sorry.” With her toes curled up, she closed her eyes and felt the orgasm come in one huge rush as Tanya held her breath as she didn’t want to scream. But the passion forced its way. “Oh God, Yes.” Her hands pulled at Serge’s hair. “Serge… Serge. I love ….”

  Serge pulled out just in time as a jet of white shot across Tanya’s belly. He blushed and apologised. “Sorry … I don’t think any got left behind.” Tanya hadn’t noticed as she was still overcome by the feeling of satisfaction and relief that she hadn’t felt in a long time. All she could muster was a satisfied smile.

  The room was dark and night was still, but Tanya was wide awake. Wrapped in Serge’s arms, she lay in disbelief. It had been less than a week since her life had changed forever. Free of a life of fear, she had now found love. Tanya reached down and kissed Serge’s arm as he slept. She stroked the dark hairs on his arm while deep in thought. Tanya felt she owed Serge everything, yet somehow she knew that all he desired was her.

  Serge rose from the bed at the first call of cockerel. He reached down and kissed a sleeping Tanya. He crossed the floor and picked up his clothes, and pushed away the sleeping puppy who had made a basket from his jeans, opened the door and scurried out.

  Tanya woke to the cries of the puppy. She put the light on causing her to rub her eyes and felt disappointed that Serge had already left. “What’s up, Max? The puppy sat and battered his tail against the floor. “You want attention?” She patted the bed causing Max to race to Tanya and pull at the sheets with his pin-like teeth.

  Leaning over, Tanya grabbed Max and lifted him onto the bed. He cuddled into her neck and curled into a ball. Tanya chuckled as she stroked Max’s back with her finger. ”Like your comfort don’t you.” She could feel his little heart pounding through his soft fur. She leaned over to put the light out. “At least I won’t be cold now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hot water jetted from the shower head. Standing under the hot water, Serge rubbed shampoo into his hair. He sighed as he glanced at the loose hair in his hands and frowned when he noticed the whispery grey threads. As he washed the suds from his hair he could see more fallen hair gathering at the plug hole. Thinking about the aging process caused his joints to ache that little bit more. He put a hand on his stomach and could swear that it was just that little larger than it was the day before. Turning the shower off, he pushed the door open.

  Wrapped in a towel he stood in his bedroom and stared into the mirror, where he once saw the reflection of a young man, the envy of most, he now only saw a sad middle-aged man. The sound of Bruce downstairs caused Serge to get dressed in a hurry.

  Outside in the farmyard, Serge noticed the smile on Bruce’s face. “What are you so happy about?”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t think I didn’t hear those bedsprings creaking to the rhythm of love last night.”

  Serge rolled the doors of the barn back. “Christ … sorry.”

  “Don’t be, we played a Sinatra record to drown you both out.” Bruce climbed into his tractor. ”Now let’s get to those sheep.”

  Bruce’s legs felt tired after a morning of herding his sheep. He walked across the moorland back towards the tractor. The bleating of sheep echoed from the trailer. His dogs walked to heel and only Serge trailed behind. Bruce glanced back. “What are you worried about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “After last night, that is what I would have thought. But your face has been as miserable as sin. What is it lad? Don’t you love her?”

  “Oh I love her…. I love the bones of her.”

  “She loves you, she hangs on your every word.”

  “She does.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  Serge stopped in his tracks. “How old do you think I am? Be honest.”

  “Thirty.” Bruce rubbed his chin.” Thirty four, five maybe.”

  “I’m forty next week.”

  “I still don’t see what the problem is?”

  Serge’s frustration got the better of him and he snapped. “Exactly that.”

  “Age stops for no one. Not even those who pay thousands for plastic surgery.”

  “I’m forty and she is …. Well I don’t know how old she is.”

  “She in her early twenties, I guess.”

  “I know, I know. See, there is no future in it.” Serge walked to the tractor and slumped on the footplate. “It’s ripping me apart.”

  “But surely you knew about the age difference before.”

  ”Of course I did. But from afar it didn’t bother me. But having her in my arms made it all real. I suddenly realised what I had … and more importantly what I could lose.”

  “Woman are different than men.”

  “No they’re not.”

  Bruce pulled a boiled sweet from his breast pocket and popped it into his mouth. “They are. Men age better. Sounds shallow to say, but it’s true.”

  “But I’m losing my hair, I’m getting a belly, I don’t know half the artists on the radio anymore.”

  “Thing is Serge, she knows about your hair, she can see your belly. She still loves you.”

  “But in ten years time, will she?”

  “Life is for living, not worrying. Tanya came this far with you in hope to be with you…. Forever.” Bruce leant on the tractor wheel. “My advice to you is let it happen.” He leaned over Serge and passed him a brown bag from inside the cab. “Have your lunch. I’m going back to the farm. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  Silence was all around, as Serge stared into the grey sky. He watched a bird of prey circle in the thermals high above. Sitting on a turned over trough, he chewed on his corn beef sandwich. The silence was broken by the diesel engine of the Land Rover that echoed from across the fields. He watched Bruce as he stepped out of the Land Rover brandishing a shotgun. Taking the last bite of his sandwich, Serge stood and wiped his hands on his trousers. “I knew I was depressed, but not enough to shoot myself?”

  “It’s not for you, it’s for me. Listening to you made me suicidal.” Bruce took an empty tin of paint from the back of the vehicle and paced to an old fence post. “I know whenever I had an argument with Beatrice, this was how I would get rid of my frustration.” He placed the can on the fence post and weighed it down a handful of stones. “You shoot?”

  “Have on a few occasions.”

  Bruce smiled. “Oh yeah? What is your preferred game?”

  “People I don’t like.”

  Bruce laughed from the pit of his full belly. “Cracking sense of humour you have.

  Lad.”

  “Just target practice at a range with the boys from work.”

  “Ever used a 12 gauge?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t lived, then.”

  Holding the highly polished double barrel shotgun, Bruce carefully handed it over to Serge as if he was presenting him with his newborn. “This is Bessie. She is a sort of family heirloom. Passed down three generations.”

  Serge brushed his hand down the polished walnut stock, running his fingers along the engraved game birds that decorated the butt of the gun. He raised it to his shoulder. “She’s a heavy old bird, but she’s perfectly balanced.”

  “Carries the weight in the right places, just like Beatrice… in the past anyway.”

  “Looks more like an ornament than a real weapon, she’s a real beauty.”

  “Deadlier than the wife’s tongue, she is.” Bruce took out a box of Shotgun shells. “Right, let’s see what you can do.”

  Serge p
eered down the sight. He held it steady until the tin was in sight. Pulling the trigger the gunshot echoed down the valley. Splinters of wood flew into the air, but the tin stubbornly remained on the top of the fence post.

  “There goes my old post.”

  Serge snapped the barrel open. “I’m sure that sight must be crooked.”

  “Watch your mouth…. You may as well have just called my daughter ugly.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So you should be.”

  Serge held the back of his neck. ”Maybe I should get my eyes tested.”

  ”Aye, you are forty after all.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  Bruce took the gun from serge. He expelled the used cartridges and inserted two fresh ones into the chamber. Snapping the chamber shut he took aim and fired. The tin can flipped ten feet in the air and came down in two clean halves. “I may be seventy years of age, but I shoot like a young Texan.” A proud smile crossed Bruce’s face as he peered at his Shotgun. “Enjoyed that, not fired this girl in a few years.”

  “Not go hunting?”

  “Aye, I do. Just use the old air rifle for the rabbits, that’s all. Not had a fox in the area for a good while, so no need for this baby.” Bruce walked to the Land Rover. “I saved a few empty tins from painting the barn last year. So you’re not going to leave until you have a smile back on that face of yours.”

  Tanya sat on the doorstep of the farmhouse with Max snuggled into lap. She stroked her finger down his bony spine. The dull thunder of the diesel engine woke Max from his slumber, long before Tanya could hear their return.

  Suddenly the Land Rover entered the yard causing Tanya to let Max jump from her knee and stand. She walked over to greet Serge with a kiss. “Welcome home, Serge. Good day?”

  “Great thanks, little tired after last night.”

  “Me too.”

  Tanya walked Serge into the house. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I should tell you.”

  Serge held Tanya’s hand and sat at kitchen table. “I have something to tell you, actually.”

  “Oh.”

  “Look, I’m forty next week.”

  “So?”

  “I’m forty, fucking forty.”

  Bruce walked through into the kitchen. “What’s he like, Tanya?” He didn’t get a reply as the pair were locked on each other’s eyes. “Try bastard seventy, that’s when you start to worry … and become invisible it seems.”

  “I don’t care how old you are, Serge.”

  Serge sighed as he glared at Tanya. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wake up with hairs on my pillow, every morning … they even fall out in the shower.”

  “So do mine. It’s natural.”

  “I’m not talking about one or two.”

  “It really doesn’t bother me.”

  Serge squeezed her hand. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty five.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Age is no barrier … it’s not like I’m underage.” Tanya sat on his knee. “You can’t do anything about your age.”

  “I know, I want to, though. I want to be young, young like you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to live my life with you.” Serge squinted as he struggled to retain his composure. “I want to be able to make you happy. Not just now, but in the future too.”

  “You do … and you will.”

  “I really love you, I never want you to leave me.”

  Tanya held him tightly. “I will never leave you.”

  “I will protect you, always.”

  Tanya hung from Serge’s shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Age won’t stop us living together, not if you really do love me?”

  “I think last night proved it.”

  Tanya met his lips with hers.”Talking about last night, I could swear I heard Frank Sinatra playing in the background.”

  “I’ll explain about that later.” Serge didn’t leave Tanya’s lips as he stood. He wrapped her in his arms and squeezed his body into hers. “I have loved you from afar for years.”

  “How long?”

  “Before Vlad even touched you.”

  “Then why didn’t you say something?”

  “I couldn’t could I?”

  “Why not? I wasn’t always Vlad’s.”

  “You were. I love him, like a brother … or did before all this, anyway.”

  “If you love someone you should always tell them.”

  “I was going to. I just hoped he would lose interest in you like he had done with every other girl. But he just wouldn’t let you go.”

  “Do you think he loved me?”

  ”In a twisted way, probably.”

  “He was twisted, no doubt in that.”

  “It tortured me, seeing you with him. How he treated you. I grew to hate him for that.”

  Tanya kissed Serge again. “I always knew there was something special about you.” Her smile turned sultry. “How about we go upstairs and get you out of those clothes.”

  “I need a shower, I smell of sweat.”

  “Oh I don’t know. I quite like your manly sweat.”

  Sitting in the living room, Beatrice heard the pair climb the stairs. She glanced at Bruce who read the newspaper. “I think we need to get a new collection of records.”

  “Aye, and quick. After that racket I think we need some rock n roll rather than swing to drown them out.”

  “Or that dreadful boom boom music the girls used to listen to.”

  Bruce shivered as he licked his fingers and turned a page. “Oh … don’t remind me.”

  “How long did our romance last … before things became, you know, things went a little more quiet?”

  “Three kids kind of got in the way of things.”

  Beatrice sat up straight and leered at Bruce. “Cheeky git, I was almost pregnant straight away.”

  “Sex is overrated, anyway.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Television is much better.”

  Beatrice clenched her fists, her heckle were up for a fight. “Why?”

  “Because if you get fed up with it, you can change the channel.”

  “Great, you’re saying you’re bored with me?”

  Bruce pointed the television remote at Beatrice. “Well you won’t fucking change over will you.”

  Beatrice reached to the floor and picked up her slipper. “Cheeky bastard.” She threw it, striking Bruce in the chest.

  “Guess I won’t be getting any tonight.”

  “The only thing you’ll be getting is a clip around the bloody ear.”

  Bruce returned to his paper. “What’s for tea?”

  “Ask the television.”

  “Nigella Lawson is on at six. I’ll see what she has waiting for me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The smell of damp poisoned the air of the tired hotel room. Shouting and screaming reverberated down the corridor as a drunken argument came to a horrific climax. Vladimir, however, seemed to be more concerned with what crawled along the patchwork carpet. Jumping down from the bed, he stamped on a cockroach, and cringed as he scraped the carcass into the carpet. “Look at the fucking state of that.”

  Igor remained oblivious as he lay on the bed, watching pornography on the small television. “I think I’ve seen this one before. Sure it ends with her getting face full man milk.”

  “That’s how they all end.”

  “Shame sex isn’t really like that, most girls won’t let my cock anywhere near their face.”

  “I wonder why?”

  “Even if I give it a wash first.”

  “Listen to us.” Vladimir sighed as he folded his arms. “I need to get back home.”

  “What’s the point? The police have gutted it.”

  “I know, I haven’t even got bog roll to wipe my arse on.” Vla
dimir sat on the small stool and gazed aimlessly at the mildew covered ceiling. “That’s not what I meant anyway. I need to go back to Moldova.”

  “I thought you told me the only way you would go back would be if you were in a casket.”

  “”I also said that you were my best mate…. I’m prone to telling porkies.”

  “Fucker.”

  The fighting in the corridor had finished. Now only whimpers of regret slipped from under the main door. Vladimir stared out of the window on a shadowy street littered with rubbish. Groups of hooded youths hung on the pavement like packs of menacing street dogs. “I have to get back, before this mess gets any bigger.”

  “You have no passport, you can’t leave.”

  Vladimir pressed his forehead against the window pane. “I know, I know, I fucking know.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “I’ve been thinking, I got the CD back haven’t I?”

  “Yeah but we have no crew. They’re all locked up or on bail.”

  Vladimir turned to face Igor. “I can use it to ship myself off.”

  Igor laughed as he rubbed his belly. “You’ll fucking die, locked in a container for a week.”

  “No I won’t, fucking illegals do it all the time. I’ll pack the crate with all the supplies I need. It will just be like a caravan holiday…. Only fucking better.”

  “What about customs?”

  “They hardly check what’s going out and you know as well as me, that the customs in Moldova are looser than an old woman’s arse.”

  Igor held his hands up. “OK, OK, but what about Serge and Tanya, are you just going to let them get away with it?”

  “Serge being the patriotic git his is, he will be back home eventually. I’ll just be waiting for him … with a fucking AK-47 and a shovel.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tanya rested her head on Serge’s chest. The silence in the room allowed her ears to pick up the pulse of his beating heart. With a smile permanently etched on her face, she ran her fingers through the small curls of hair on his arms.