by Kara Hart
“So obviously, you’re excited, right?” she jokes.
“Yeah, obviously,” I laugh. “Take today, for example. This woman invited me into her place to fix her sink. Turns out her sink is completely fine, brand new even. I turn around and she’s wearing lingerie. I had to run before she took me hostage or something. Not many people know how dangerous this job can get.”
“Sounds horrifying,” she says, though I don’t think she believes my story. “But you were like in the Army, right?”
I laugh a little. “No. I was a Navy SEAL. Special Reconnaissance,” I admit, nodding. “That was a lifetime ago though.”
“Were you both in it? Halloway too?” she asks.
“Yep.” I keep nodding. “We fought overseas. Wasn’t exactly the best time of my life either.”
“You’re not all patriotic?” she asks. Normally, I don’t like this type of questioning. There’s a lot I saw over there that I don’t want to think back on. Still, I know she’s got good intentions. She’s just being curious. Besides, maybe it’s a good thing to talk about what happened over there. Maybe it’ll help me cope a little better. I don’t want her to know about the flashbacks, though. I don’t want her thinking I’m out of my damn mind.
“Heh,” I fake a laugh. “That depends on what you mean by that. If you mean, do I fly my flag every 4th of July, then yes. But you won’t see me casting any ballots any time soon.”
“Fair enough,” she says, rocking her heels against the mud.
We drink some more and suddenly she drops her bottle and runs off, jumping around the snow. “You’re going to catch a cold!” I tell her, but she’s not listening. I run after her, but I’m a little drunk as well. As I chase behind her, I stare at her body. It’s wonderful. It’s that city living that does something to some women, and I fucking love it.
She stops, grabbing a tree stump, catching her breath. “It’s nice out here,” she says, almost as if it’s a revelation.
“Sure is,” I whisper, seeing the cold fog come from my breath.
“Think you’ll ever move away?” she asks me, turning around and staring into my eyes. She’s got that hazel eye color, the kind that changes depending on the light surrounding it. Right now, it looks dark green. I’m intoxicated, but more so by her than the alcohol. I don’t know how to explain the feeling, other than I am just grateful for her riding into me the other night.
Her cold breath touches against my lips and I’m hooked. I need her. I need to kiss her, to taste her, to feel her against my body. ‘Cause lately this cold world has been hurting my bones and bringing me down.
I need a little something to bring me back to normal, something to bring me back to how I used to be around people. The only reason I hang around Halloway so much is because he understands all the shit I’ve been through. He was right next to me when the bombs fell, and the bullets rained down like hellfire and brimstone. But I don’t want to bond over that shit anymore. I want kisses, flowers, puppies, and all that other frilly crap. I want to feel good for once in my life.
“Move from here?” I repeat her question. “I’m thinkin’ I might stay, now that you’re here.”
“Is that right?” she smiles, though there’s some hesitance in her eyes.
Fuck it.
I kiss her. I reach forward and grab her by the waist. The cold air envelops us and I swear, snow starts to fall on top of our heads. It’s fucking magical. Our lips crash and the waves of emotion ricochet right through me. This woman is captivating.
Only, when we pull away from each other to look into the other’s eyes, she starts breathing crazy and looks away from me. “What’s the matter?” I ask, but she’s in her own head.
“I, uh, I gotta go,” she says, walking away from me.
“Hey, wait!” I yell, stomping against the cold snow. “Hold on a sec.”
“I’ve got class in a few days. I need to prepare the syllabus,” she says, walking off.
“At least let me walk you home,” I insist. “It’s cold. I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.” The excuses for me walking her home run out pretty damn fast. It’s apparent. She doesn’t want me. She made a mistake. She should have never kissed a man like me.
Well, I’m stuck on that wet park bench, my jacket soaking wet. My arms have goose pimples and I start to shiver as the alcohol quickly moves out of my system.
There’s nothing, except for the faint screams of children riding roller coasters and families eating cotton candy.
“Shit,” I sigh. Tonight fucking blows.
Helena
“Name?” the woman in front of me asks, while staring down at her clipboard. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”
“Helena Rollins,” I say, looking at the line of people behind me. “I teach 7th grade English.”
“I didn’t ask you what you taught,” the shrill, old woman says, glasses sliding down her nose. I can see the grease building up around her caked-on makeup with each passing moment.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Uh, she’s with me, Holly,” Judy butts in.
“Hey!” I exclaim. “How are you?” Judy hugs me and kisses my cheek.
“I’m good, but I’ve got a pretty bad hangover from last night,” she rolls her eyes and laughs.
“And Halloway?” I laugh.
“You don’t even want to know,” she says.
The old woman stands as a barrier between us. “I don’t see her name on the list. Only people with a name on the list are allowed in!”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Holly, but if you keep holding up this line, you’re going to have a straight up revolt on your hands,” Judy says, tapping her heels. “Do you really want to deal with that?”
She sighs and makes a note on her sheet of paper. “Just go on through, darn it,” she says. “But if Principal Kneeves gets on my case, I’m sending him over to you.”
“Thanks, Holly!” Judy smiles, grabbing me by the arm. “You’re a doll.”
She leans in and whispers in my ear, “God, I hope she passes soon.” I can’t help but burst out laughing. “Sorry, I know that’s wrong of me, but some people should not be around children.”
“She teaches here?” I ask her.
“Not only does she teach here, she teaches multiple classes,” she says. “I had to tell her once that she can’t hit kids knuckles with rulers. Can you believe it?”
“Insane,” I mutter. “Speaking of insane… Halloway?”
“Oh, God! Woman, let it go.” She presses her body against some lockers and covers her eyes dramatically. “He fell asleep. Is that what you wanted hear?”
“Wait, what? Fell asleep?” I smile, not getting the punch line.
“Yeah, like…” She takes a deep breath. “He fell asleep while he was...”
“He did not!” I scream. Some of the students’ parents turn to look at me.
“He did.” She fakes a cry. “He fell asleep and started talking to himself. Some weird war stuff, you know?”
“What, like screaming?” I ask.
“No, none of that,” she says. “Like, I think he thought I was a prostitute from overseas? Oh, I can’t explain this to you or anybody. It’s too weird. All you need to know is that I left his house as fast as I could.”
“Well, good for you,” I laugh. We continue walking toward the auditorium, where we’re giving our first introduction to the students and their parents. This is the most annoying part of the job. It’s mandatory and extremely boring for everyone involved. On the plus side, the kids are incredibly well behaved compared to where I assisted in New York.
During the assembly, Kneeves tells the parents a story about how he went to this school, and how he’s proud to say that his father also went to this school. There’s a lot more about school pride and such, but it’s all very redundant and it seems as if no one is really listening.
Judy whispers into my ear, “So, did you take Mr. Repair Man home with you?”
“Nah.” I chew
on my gum like a middle schooler. I try to avoid the question by pretending that I’m listening very intently to what Principal Kneeves is telling everyone, but she knows better.
“Come on, don’t pull that crap with me. I told you something really embarrassing. You have to return the favor now,” she says.
“Is that how it works?” I ask her.
“Yes. Fair is fair,” she says, winking at me.
“Fine,” I sigh. “He took me to his favorite park growing up, after he bought me beers. He set his jacket down on the wet bench and we talked for an hour.”
“That’s it?” she asks. “He didn’t try anything?”
“Not really,” I lie. “We just talked and I got a little too drunk.”
“Wow, he sounds like a true gentleman. Are you sure you went out walking with a man, or—”
“Okay, fine. He kissed me,” I admit, closing my eyes tightly. The whole thing makes me feel weird.
“Girl, I don’t understand your deal. Isn’t that what you wanted to happen?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t know.” I breathe out harshly. “I don’t know what I want! He’s hot. But I never envisioned myself with a guy like that.”
“No one said you had to marry the guy,” she reiterates. “There’re no rules to these things. It’s not the fucking 1930s, is it? You’re a free woman. You can fuck whatever cock you want to fuck. Go forth and fuck all the cocks. It’s in the Bible, I’m pretty sure.”
“Judy!” I crack up, covering my mouth so no one in the auditorium can hear me.
“Sorry, but you know it’s true. You don’t need to feel guilty for sucking face with the town hottie. Everyone wants Addison. You actually got him. Good for you, girl.”
“Yeah, except for the fact that I ran away!” I say.
“You what?” She laughs. “You did not run away. Oh, girl. No. Why?”
“I don’t know!” I laugh. “I’m embarrassed as hell though. I left him the cold like that. Oh, God. I’m such a bitch.”
“Don’t worry,” she says, rubbing my back. “You’re fine. He probably doesn’t hate you. Not yet, at least.”
“What do I do?” I ask her.
“Well, first thing’s first. Do you want to fuck him?” She smiles. I nod. “Okay, but you don’t want to date him?”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, thinking about it. “I don’t really know him. I mean, he seems nice, I guess.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t let that fool you. They’re all nice in the beginning,” she rolls her eyes. “Still, you’re fine. All you have to do is apologize. Men don’t hold grudges like we do. No doubt, he’ll still want to tumble with you a little bit.”
“Tumble with me?” I ask her.
“Fuck your brains out. Whatever you call it. Sicko,” she adds.
The bells rings in the auditorium and we both quickly realize everyone has already started to walk out of the place. “Let’s go,” Judy motions.
We head outside and I notice that all the snow has melted. “It’s a bit weird we’ve already seen snow fall, but the past few years have seen some weird weather,” she says. “I hope they fixed the heaters. We should be fine for a few more weeks, but after that, it’ll snow pretty heavy. Last year, we didn’t have any heat for a full month. The new winter school schedule doesn’t help either.”
“Yeah, I thought it was a bit weird they start the school year here so late,” I say.
“Kneeves is a good guy. He’s proactive about things. There’s some studies I guess, that show kids learn better under a different schedule. So we start later now,” she shrugs.
We walk through the hall and my heart nearly stops when I see him. He’s screwing something into the heater when he turns to see whose heels are clicking against the freshly shined floor.
“Well, well, well,” Judy laughs. “Addison. Fixin’ the heaters?”
He glances up and huffs, and then looks back down at what he’s doing. Judy mouths the words “Good luck,” and keeps walking.
Ugh. I hate her for leaving me alone like this. I already feel terrible for last night. I wanted some time before I called him and apologized. Now, everything feels so fucking awkward and stupid. Of course, all of this is happening in the middle school I teach. This is total junior high crap.
“Hey, Addison,” I say, holding onto my purse as if I need it to keep balance.
“I’m working,” he says, turning his screwdriver.
“Okay, come on,” I sigh. “I’m pretty sure that screw is already all the way in. You don’t need to keep turning it.”
He sets the tool down and looks up at me. I can’t help but notice his skin gripping against his shirt, his muscles poking through. They’re practically begging me to hold onto them. Oh, I’m such an ass! I hate that I ran off last night. I absolutely hate myself.
“Yeah?” he asks. “What’s up? You going to run away from me again like I’m a monster or something?”
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “Seriously. I really am. I don’t know why I did it.”
“You did it because I’m scary, right? ‘Cause I’m a cold-blooded killer?” he asks. “Look, I know how the world looks at us Navy types. You think we’re all scumbags.”
“No, I don’t,” I try to tell him, but he’s on a rant now.
“Well, I’ve got news for you. We’re not all scumbags. Some of us got conned into thinking we were going to do some good over there. I just wanted to do good, okay?” he says, out of breath and still looking handsome as hell.
“Look,” I sigh, glancing over my shoulder. Everyone is out of the building now except for him and me. “I fucked up. I want to see you again.”
“Not going to happen,” he says. “I’ve been thrown in the dirt too many times. It always happens like this. I’m good with fuckin’ women and being done with them. I’m over this shit.”
I’m annoyed. I don’t want to hear his whole ‘I’m an American soldier’ speech. I don’t need to hear it. I walk forward and grab his hand, forcing it under my dress. His palm cups firmly around the center of my panties and I keep my eyes out to see if anyone is coming.
He doesn’t pull away. He keeps his hand on me. In fact, his palm cups firmer and firmer until his fingers brush around the sides of my underwear. I back away.
“Is that what you want? Are you going to stop being a baby and forgive me?” I ask him, feeling my heart beat against my chest. Fuck. I can’t believe I just did that. That was crazy of me, right?
His eyes are wide and he’s speechless. He looks parched, and he’s looking down at my dress like he wants to dive underneath. He nods. “I forgive you,” he says. “Shit, I’m really sorry. I—” He gulps down the saliva he has left, unable to finish his sentence.
“It’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I ask him.
“Sure thing,” he smiles. “Tomorrow.”
I walk out of the school and meet Judy, keeping my little secret with me.
And that’s how you make things right again.
Addison
Am I dreaming? Did she really just force my hand on her cunt like that? Jesus Christ, I mean, that was insane. I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know if she wanted me to go further, or if this was some kind of weird test women give to men now. All I could do was feel what I felt, and my cock went soaring into the fucking sky.
At work, I’m at some old bag’s house, fixing her doorknob. It’s barely even broken, but I’m taking my damn time because I can’t get my hard-on down. I close the door, make sure it’s locked and I turn off the light. I sit against the counter and unzip my pants, letting it spring out.
I don’t care how wrong it is. This is what this woman is already doing to me. I close my eyes and picture her full lips, those cute cheeks of hers, and those freckles underneath her eyes. Fuck, I even picture her eyes. They looked brown today.
Precum is already coming out of my cock and I’m spreading it around my shaft, just slowly moving my hand over myse
lf. “Are you finished?” the woman asks me from the door.
“No, I gotta fix the top fixture here. It might take me another ten minutes or so. Sorry, ma’am,” I call out, but of course I’m still jacking off in the woman’s bathroom. Again, I don’t care. It’s practically a medical emergency. I need to cum or I’ll be in pain all day from what happened earlier.
“Okay, just call out to me when you’re done!” she says, walking away.
Right. Sure thing. I’ll call out when cum is plastered onto your ceiling. Am I vile? Am I perverted? Am I everything women hate about men? Probably. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to degrade the very woman I keep thinking about. I picture her on her knees, spreading her cheeks for me, and waiting for my cock to penetrate her folds.
“Fuck,” I moan, feeling myself already close to the climax.
“What’s that?” the old woman asks from her bedroom.
“Nothing!” I exclaim. Dammit.
I run my hand over my shaft and start to speed up, gripping down much firmer now. I picture myself shooting my load inside Helena as she screams my name.
Addison! Addison! Oh, Addison!
I push myself in deep and feel the warm perfection of her cunt wash over me like a drug. She’s everything I’ve always dreamed of.
I cum.
I shoot my cum all over the woman’s floor, spilling some on my jeans. “Shit!” I call out, dropping to the floor to clean it up. The whole thing is comical. Me, on my knees, cleaning my jizz up from some woman’s floor.
“I’m done!” I call out, when everything looks spotless in there. I open the door and walk out, hiding my hands in my pocket, feeling the shame creep over me.
This is what love is really like. I used to watch those romantic comedies sometimes overseas and laugh. Love isn’t a nice box of chocolates. It’s not a bouquet of shitty flowers. Love is bending over and begging for it. Love is taking it all in and swallowing it down. Love is dirty.
“Wow!” the old woman exclaims. “You did one hell of a job in here.”
“No problem, ma’am. Anytime,” I smile. Anytime.