by Alison Tyler
But that didn’t happen.
‘Jesus, I missed you, Charlie,’ he murmured, his face in my hair, his arms enfolding me in a sensation of both safety and surrender. Being this close to him was dangerous. When I breathed in deeply, I could smell his spicy aftershave, and the soap he used, and below that the very scent of his skin.
Stop, Charlene, I thought to myself. You know this is wrong.
Just like it was wrong for me to tilt my head up so that he’d understand I wanted him to kiss me. He responded quickly, lifting me clear off my feet into a mammoth embrace as his lips found mine. Johnny’s lips are full and soft, and my heart beat quickly as the kiss went on. He cradled me to him, holding me close, and, as always when Johnny kissed me, I felt myself growing aroused. All it took was his lips on mine, or his arms around me, or even a seductive smile aimed in my direction, and my body yearned to make love to him. Now, I pressed myself as firmly to him as I could get, sealing myself to his body.
We could do it right here, in the living room, I thought. We’d had sex on his modular black leather sofa before, and on his multicoloured throw rug in front of the faux fireplace, a roaring faux-fire crisping away in the grate. We’d even had sex pressed up against the back of his front door when we couldn’t make it any further into the room. We’d done the dirty deed in the kitchen, with me bent over the cool sienna-coloured tile counter, and in the tiny bathroom in his glassed-in shower. I saw those flashbacks in my head, crystal-clear, and I longed to step back into memoryland one more time.
Luckily, when the kiss ended, I momentarily found my head. I wasn’t here to fool around. I was here to say goodbye. Yet that didn’t stop me from running my fingers through his thick black hair and gazing into his stone-grey eyes.
‘We shouldn’t –’ I started, but he silenced me with another one of his body-thrilling kisses, and all rational thoughts left my head. I was shaky when he set me back down on my feet, and he steadied me with his hands firmly on my shoulders.
‘We shouldn’t,’ I said again, but I couldn’t help myself. I ran my palms over his T-shirt, feeling the muscles in his strong chest, and then let my fingers wander down to the buckle of his old leather belt. I tugged on the silver buckle, my fingers working without any assistance from my brain.
Johnny gave me a sexy grin, and then he said, ‘Let’s take this to the bedroom. All right, doll baby?’
I nodded, and then let him lift me once more in his strong arms and carry me down the dark-blue hall to his room. The hallway was decorated with mounted vinyl album covers featuring Johnny’s favourite musicians, like a mini-museum display paying homage to the visions of the past. This theme continued in his bedroom and, as he set me down, I looked around at the two red-painted walls, at the framed photographs of his idols – Elvis, James Dean, Sinatra – then stared at the black comforter on his bed, and the crimson pillowcases, both presents from me. I saw his guitars, his leather jacket tossed over the chair in the corner, his tiny model Mustang – a miniature of the real thing that sat downstairs in his parking space. The windows were open, and I could hear the traffic rumbling by on San Vicente Boulevard, a melody to me. A lullaby.
And then we were in motion again, and I couldn’t wait for him to take off my clothes, to spread me out on his king-sized bed and kiss me all over – his lips on my lips, his lips on my neck, on my breasts, on the concave dip of my belly. As if reading my fantasies, he tossed me down on the centre of his bed and reached for one of my sleek, black leather boots.
‘No,’ I told him, shaking my head as he gently worked to pull the boot free.
‘You want to leave them on?’ he asked, giving me a devilish wink. ‘I like that, Charlie. It’s kinky. You’ll look so hot, totally naked with your boots still on –’
‘We shouldn’t do this, Johnny. It never goes anywhere.’ Even I didn’t believe me. But I felt as if at least one of us should try to be adult about the situation. Johnny had a passion for chaos, for pushing me away just when we really started to get close. ‘You know I’m right, Johnny –’
He cocked his head to the left, as if considering my statement and rejecting it as truly nonsensical, then went back to work on the silver zipper of my expensive leather boot. He slipped one boot off, then the other, and then he leaned up on the bed and easily unzipped the side of my houndstooth pencil skirt.
‘You wore your prettiest panties for me.’ He smiled as he slowly slid my skirt down my long, slim thighs. ‘My favourite ones.’
This was true. I’d chosen the lavender silk pair especially for him. I’d considered the variety in my overflowing underwear drawer and picked these – purchased the previous summer on a trip with Mia to Venice – because I knew how much he liked them. Every time I wore them, I won a compliment. Why had I done that if I wasn’t planning on us having sex? Even while I was telling Johnny ‘no’ with my voice, I was telling him ‘yes’ with my actions.
He pulled the skirt all the way off, and then began to unbutton my blouse. It was cream coloured with short sleeves, a tiny diamond pattern in pale mint-green and a row of pearl buttons from the collar to the hem.
‘Like a librarian’s blouse,’ he said, chuckling softly as his large fingers struggled to undo the dainty buttons.
‘Hey,’ I said, in mock anger, ‘some librarians are very sexy.’
‘Then a school headmistress, someone proper. Someone not like you at all. Who are you trying to fool, Charlie? Or who are you trying to be?’
I blushed as he worked the last pearl button free and then spread the delicate fabric open, waiting for me to shrug out of it. Who was I trying to be? Someone who could take her future into her own hands. Someone who could move 400 miles away on a whim. But I hadn’t told all that to Johnny, and I wasn’t going to. Now he had me down to my lingerie, and I felt extremely exposed with him watching me like that. Especially because he still had on his clothes, T-shirt, faded Levis, workboots. He was the LA version of a cowboy, but I knew that, while his fingers might get callused from playing the guitar, his clothes and hands never got truly dirty. I thought for an instant of the man I’d seen in the Dogtown bar, the real-life cowboy with the husky voice and denim-blue eyes. That was a real cowboy. Then I had to return to the present as Johnny whispered my name.
‘Charlie, look at me.’
Was he going to keep his clothes on the whole time? Had we done that before? I couldn’t remember. We’d done so much together. I could envision the feel of his coarse denim against my naked skin, and the idea turned me on even more.
He moved to the foot of the bed, and then gazed up the line of my body until he met my eyes. ‘Relax, Charlie,’ he whispered. ‘Let me …’
‘Let you …’ I breathed.
‘Let me take care of you,’ he said, starting to kiss up my legs, alternating from one to the other. His hands, warm and powerful, held me in place as he kissed and licked and tickled his way up my body. When Johnny holds me like that, I know I’m not going anywhere. I trembled all over as I felt feathery brushes of his thick dark hair on my bare skin. I groaned and tensed my muscles, all thoughts of not doing this disappearing like the silver smoke from one of his Marlboro Reds.
‘You missed me,’ he said, when he reached the split of my body. There was no hiding from him. My panties were damp, and he was so close to them, he could easily breathe in the scent of my arousal and know for certain how badly I wanted him. I held myself totally still, silently willing Johnny to kiss me between my legs, to kiss my panty-clad pussy. As if he understood every desperate yearning in my head, he lowered his chin and pressed his handsome face against my silken knickers. The delicious roughness of his shadowy beard brushed at me through the semi-sheer fabric, and I moaned loudly.
Take them off! I wanted to scream. Oh, Johnny, take them off!
But I knew that if I told him what I wanted he would make me wait even longer for that particular pleasure. That’s how it always is with my rock ’n’ roll lover. He lives to excite me, to bring me right up t
o the brink so many times I lose count and practically lose consciousness. So I kept my silence, but only barely, by sucking in my breath and clenching my fists tightly at my sides. Johnny continued in his starring role of the sexual tormentor, rubbing his cheeks back and forth in his dirty games before finally pressing his chin firmly on me, connecting fiercely with my clit, still hidden behind the silken curtain of my panties.
‘Oh, yes,’ I sighed. ‘Don’t stop –’
As soon as I spoke, he did exactly what I’d begged him not to – he stopped – moving to my side and now working on my bra, opening the clasp and slipping the pale purple silk away from my small breasts. He gazed down at me for a moment, his expression one of total admiration, and then he pinched my nipples gently between his thumbs and forefingers. When I squirmed and bucked my hips, he pinched them harder, and I threw my head back on his shiny red pillows and closed my eyes, the picture of ecstasy. Johnny knows precisely how to touch me.
‘You like that, baby?’
‘You know I do.’ My breath was a rush, my words a whisper.
‘Then why aren’t we getting back together?’ He stroked my dark-red bangs away from my forehead, and his fingertips lingered on my face. I opened my eyes and stared back at him, and he brought his thumb to rest lightly on my bottom lip. I sucked him gently, automatically, letting him feel the heat and wetness of my mouth, and now he was the one to sigh.
I felt safe there, on his bed, staring up at him, as if I belonged right where I was, sucking his thumb as if I were sucking his cock. ‘Come on, Red,’ he said, twining his fingertips through my rich auburn hair. ‘Come on.’
‘You know why, Johnny,’ I told him when he pulled his hand away.
‘Nothing happened,’ he insisted with a fierce shake of his head. ‘Do you think I’m lying to you?’
‘Oh, Johnny, I can’t. I don’t want to go through this again –’
‘Then I’ll stop,’ he threatened, but he didn’t. He moved lower, and his mouth found the hollow of my throat. He didn’t seem to expect me to talk now. He took one moment to even the score, sitting up to pull his T-shirt over his head, revealing his beautiful, lean body splashed with a variety of colourful tattoos. I adore the artwork on Johnny’s skin, the intricate designs that ride half-hidden beneath his clothes, secret pictures for a private audience. While I watched, he kicked off his deeply scuffed boots and then tossed his jeans in a rumpled heap on to the hardwood floor. I drank in the vision of his striking body, the indents of his muscles, his flat stomach with that enviable six-pack, the line of dark fur trailing from his navel down lower … lower, as if indicating a treasure at the end of the road. And then my eyes locked on his cock, and I thought I might come on the spot. He was so ready. I’d missed that hardness during our time apart, had missed the way it felt to have him climb on top of me, slide inside of me, fuck me.
Like he was preparing to do now. He towered over me on the bed, getting into position, choosing to be on top so he could stare down at me while he parted my thighs, parted my nether lips with his firm fingers, tested me for the wetness he knew he’d find, and then slid inside of me.
‘Oh, God,’ I sighed, pulling him in. ‘Oh, Johnny.’
His grey eyes held mine. He was right there with me, telling me everything I needed to know without saying a word. I lifted my chin and he kissed me, kissed me in rhythm with his body on mine, thrusting and kissing, until I was dizzy from the combination, vibrating with pleasure. He held himself rigid on his strong arms as he drove inside of me, moving his hips in small sexy circles, rotating his cock to hit all those pleasure spots within me. I held on to him with my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him against me, letting him know how good I felt to be with him.
And then he grabbed me around the waist and switched our positions, so that he was on his back and I was on top, straddling him like a cowgirl. When we connect this way, I am able to control every motion of our actions together. I took full advantage of my momentary role as the aggressor, rocking up and back to a powerful beat, while Johnny held out his hands and tenderly started to rub his thumbs across my nipples. I arched my back, pumping myself on him. My hair was loose and free-falling down my shoulders, and Johnny touched it softly, whispering his nickname for me as he did: ‘Red, you’re amazing. So fucking amazing.’
Then he brought his hands around my waist, guiding me onwards, resuming control. I kept up the stride, searching to find a pace that suited us both, and for an instant I thought I could go on like that forever, riding and riding in that state of near-bliss, until his thumb finally found my hot spot and pressed hard. I cried out at the contact. With his cock filling me, and his thumb rubbing in slow-motion circles at exactly the right pressure, I started to come.
‘That’s right, baby,’ Johnny crooned. ‘That’s right. You let it happen.’
I moaned louder than I had all afternoon, pumping my thighs harder now, as if trying to squeeze out every last drop of pleasure. And maybe I was. Because somewhere in the depths of my mind I understood that this would be our last time. And if it truly was, I wanted the end to be magic.
‘You’re really moving?’ he asked me afterwards, walking back into his bedroom with an open bottle of imported beer in each hand. I admired him as he stood there in his black silk boxers, looking like an advertisement for Heineken.
‘Yeah,’ I told him, reaching for the green glass bottle. ‘I don’t know for how long, but I’m going to give it a try.’
‘To Raysville?’ His voice still held a note of disbelief. He sounded like Mia.
I nodded, then told him the story of the amended population sign, explaining the fact that I was headed to a place that was home to more cows than humans.
‘I don’t think you’ll really go.’ He stroked his hand along my naked thigh, and I realised that if he kept touching me like that we’d be going for a second round rather quickly, in spite of my theory that our most recent tryst had been our last.
‘Why not?’
‘You make these statements all the time. You’re going to quit your job. You’re going to fly to Paris. You’re going to learn a new language. You have all these exotic daydreams. And they never come true.’ He took a long swallow from his beer, and then smiled at me. ‘Besides, kiddo, I grew up in a small town. I know what it’s like, and I know how fast I needed to get out. I was barely seventeen when I hit the road running with nothing but my guitar on my back.’ He appraised me carefully, as if looking at me for the first time. ‘You’ll last a week, if that.’
‘Is that a bet, or a dare?’
‘It’s whatever you want it to be.’
I wished I had a smart response to his challenge, but he was pushing hard on fears I already had. So I remained quiet, thinking, and let Johnny continue.
‘Sure, it was charming for a vacation. But I promise the place won’t be able to live up to your long-term expectations. Think about it, Charlie. Your clothes are too fancy. You like to get your nails done. You appreciate a bit of nightlife. You’re a city girl through and through, baby. It’s in your blood.’
‘I’m going, Johnny,’ I said, more for myself than for him.
‘We’ll see.’
‘You will,’ I promised him fiercely. ‘You really will.’
When I dressed and left the building, I passed Johnny’s nosy downstairs neighbour, Mrs Nelson. As usual, she was carrying her tiny white toy poodle in her arms, and she gave me a vicious glare of unadulterated hatred as I hurried by. A year before, on Halloween night, she’d caught Johnny making love to me on the balcony, and she had never let me forget it. The fact that he’d tied a black satin blindfold around my eyes and used a set of handcuffs on me hadn’t helped matters any. I didn’t smile at her, or give her any indication that this was the last time I’d be visiting the two-storey apartment complex. She was someone I definitely wasn’t going to miss.
But Johnny was a different story entirely.
Our final conversation echoed in my head as I packed up my
boxes later that week. Mia helped, her attitude about my leaving precisely as dark as before, but her closeness to me as a friend winning out. She agreed to store my extra belongings as long as I needed her to, and she hoped out loud that she’d be seeing me back home before the end of the month.
‘Wishing me failure,’ I said, grinning at her.
‘You know me,’ she said, pushing a lock of her platinum hair out of her dark hazel eyes. ‘The eternal optimist. If you fail up there, I’ll have my shopping and drinking buddy back here all the sooner.’
Chapter Three
Work goodbyes were easy for me. I’ve never been the type of person to get too chummy with my co-workers. Mia wasn’t difficult either, as she refused to consider the move as anything but a fleeting whim, a long-term vacation from which I’d return refreshed and rejuvenated, and admitting that she was right. But Johnny was different. After several aborted attempts at dialling his number, I realised that I was simply unable to leave a message on his answering machine. What would I say after ‘I’m really going’? I couldn’t visit him in person, because I knew how that would end up: with us in bed again and me as conflicted as ever. Another one of those marathon sex sessions might have me cancelling my trip altogether.
Finally, I took a digital picture of the Santa Monica population sign, and then used Photoshop to place a white X over the last number and amend it, like the Dogtown sign, but this time with one fewer person in the city rather than one more. I planned on emailing the photo to him right before I left.
While I worked my computer magic, Mia looked over my shoulder at the screen and shook her head. ‘He’s not going to like that.’
I shrugged.
‘You should go say goodbye.’
‘You’re the one who screened his calls when I went away,’ I reminded her. ‘You’re the one who’s spent the past two years saying how wrong he is for me.’