by Kara Hart
“You should probably go,” I tell her.
“You’d like that. You’d love it if Lisa and I were to leave forever,” she says.
“Don’t threaten me,” I tell her.
“I’m not violent. I don’t threaten people. This is classic Michael,” she says.
“She’s my daughter too,” I say. “You know how much I love her.”
“I know how much you used to drink. I know how you used to yell and blame me for all your weaknesses. I remember everything,” she says.
“Yeah and I guess you’ll hold that over my head forever.” I sigh. “Look, I worked on myself. I got straight enough so that I could have a drink every now and then. I’ve conquered my demons. Maybe it’s time for you to conquer yours.”
“You’re twisted,” she says.
“Yeah? Well, you’re leaving.”
I have to hold the door open for her to leave. At first, she protests, but after seeing the anger in my eyes, she walks out. “She’s a good employee,” I tell her.
“I bet she’s a good fuck too,” she says, before I close the door.
“She is,” I mutter to myself. “The best fuck I’ve ever had.”
Emily
I’ve spent all weekend trying not to hurt about things. How I fell so hard, so fast, is beyond me, but I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about him. I just wish I had met him before his life really began to take shape in the way that it has.
I’m almost positive that it’s the same for him. When we don’t communicate, our yearning grows stronger. When the walls are built around us, we want to climb over them even more. All it takes is a few pulls to get to the top, but when you’re on the ground, on the other side, your body feels weak. There’s the knowing that you’ll just have to climb back over again.
So I feel empty. I feel numb. I sometimes feel anger, but even that isn’t long-lasting. I remain in my bed for days, drinking diet soda and eating little to no food. I’m a wreck and it’s all because of Michael Vanderbilt, some guy I responded to on Craigslist, for a stupid carpentry job.
I’m a fool to be so head over heels. I know that I am, but my heart works on its own accord. It hits my chest so painfully hard, just because I feel my stupid phone vibrate against my ass. “Hey,” the text reads. It’s from Michael. My body grows warn, and then cold, and back to warm again.
“Hi,” I mildly reply. I want to write, “I miss you. I need you. Come here now,” but I can’t bear to be let down again.
“I wanted you to know that I kind of told Susan off today,” he says.
I smile, real wide. I know it’s kind of fucked up of me to get giddy over such a thing, but I do, regardless. “What exactly did you tell her?” I ask.
“Just slammed the door on her. She knows I’m keeping you on. I told her to get out. She threatened me with the court stuff, just like I thought she would,” he says.
“I never wanted to cause any drama,” I tell him.
“This has been building for a long time. I used to give in because I thought it was my only option. Now, I’m starting not to care,” he types.
“And Lisa? What if she gets full custody? I don’t want that. You should be careful,” I say.
“I guess so. All I know is that I want to see you again. I’m sorry for earlier. Things should never have ended like that today. I had so much fun with you,” he says.
“I held a grudge. I should have known better. A divorce is a complicated thing. I wish it didn’t carry over for so long, but you have to deal with it for life. I’m sorry.” I do feel bad, even if it is a painful situation for me. It’s hard not to.
“Let’s have a day together. No Susan. No Lisa. Just us,” he suggests.
“Stop tempting me,” I reply.
“But I like tempting you,” he says. I can only imagine his smile as he eagerly waits for my response.
“Give me an hour to get ready,” I say.
“Fuck getting ready. You’re beautiful as you are,” he replies, faster than normal.
“Fine.”
“One more thing,” he says. “What’s your shoe size?”
Weird. “Six,” I reply.
“Cool.” Okay…
I’ve always imagined what it would be like to have moments with someone. I mean, real moments. A real day. When I met Dennis, it was intense passion, but there wasn’t an unspoken bond attached to it. With Michael, there is both. There’s the strange obsession, the need that pulls at the edges of my panties, and the heavy hand that presses over my heart.
The day is dark and overcast, once again. The streets are wet with dew. Outside Michael’s garage, he stands, wearing long and worn-out jeans, with a white undershirt, tucked in neatly. He’s just standing there, looking at me. His arms are crossed and he’s got a sly smile on his face.
“Hey, little lady,” he calls out. He steps forward in his work boots, crunching against the soft mud below him. I delicately move myself forward, feeling my heart push past my chest, up to my throat.
“I’m not a little lady,” I reply.
He winks. “You’re little to me,” he says. His touch falls on my arm. His fingers slide smoothly across my wrist. Goose bumps press against my skin. I close my eyes and feel that warm happiness and excitement flood over my body, starting at the back of my arms. He kisses me slowly, and when I least expect it, he pulls away, yet breathes in quickly, yearning for more.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask him. “It’s getting late. Bar?”
“Nah,” he says. “I need to get away from the normal routine. I thought we could do something a little more fun.”
“Like what?” I smile. Fun sounds refreshing.
“Look, we’re grown adults, but tonight, I want to feel young with you,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a metal flask. He hands it to me.
I laugh and unscrew the top. “So, you want to drink whiskey in a parking lot somewhere?” I take a sip and shrug. “If that’s what gets you off, I’m game.”
“There’s an old roller rink, ten miles south of here,” he explains. “I had a buddy who used to work there. He told me the speakers still work and everything. All we’d need is a small stereo system and some cables.” He turns his head and looks over, near the garage door. There it is, a stereo and a group of folded cables.
“So, that’s why you wanted my shoe size,” I smile. He nods and grins back. “How do we get in?”
“I’ve got the building code. You in?” he asks, biting his lip.
I instantly nod. “This sounds dangerous, but of course I’m in,” I say.
“Well, let’s go then.”
The air is cold, yet mild. The breeze is stagnant, as if it’s hanging in the distance. As the sun sets, the sky looks sepia. The old trees that surround us reflect their earthy colors proudly. As for me, I’m floating. I’m outside myself right now. I’m in Michael’s car and we’re sharing the flask with smiles on our faces. We’re breaking the rules and it feels how it used to feel.
The long nights away from parents. Sneaking out of your house at a decent hour, only to get caught the next day. The thrill of being young. The danger. All of that seems to disappear once you get past a certain age. The dangers suddenly become real and terrifying. Love is no longer a game. You can lose your life over love. You can lose yourself over it too.
So you dig holes and build walls to try and create a castle of good for yourself. Only, that empire you’ve been clinging to is no empire at all. It’s a void of self-eradication, meant to pull you under. When you open your eyes, you’re ten years past yourself. You’re in a black ocean and the tide is the only thing you can hope to hold onto. It pushes you down and makes you face your worst fears. In the end, you only have yourself to blame for the years you’ve lost.
Well, I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I don’t want to have to grab on to anything, just to keep afloat. I just want to keep my eyes open and breathe freely, flying in the air. I see it. I see the big dome in front of
me. Letters barely hang above the door: “SKATE.” Moss has grown over the cement. Bushes surround the parking lot, now faded from years of neglect.
“This is it,” he says. The sound of the car’s turning signal clicks and it begins to rain outside. “Not again,” he sighs.
“I like it,” I say. “Reminds me of when I was a little girl.”
He parks the car and looks over at me. “You’re endearing as hell,” he says.
I squint my eyes at him and click my lips together. “Ready to run?”
“Ready when you are,” he says.
“On my mark!” I exclaim. “3-2-1-GO!”
We fly out of the car, running toward the entrance. Rain drops fall across our heads. He attempts to shield our roller skates and the stereo, all while punching in the code on the lockbox outside. When he finally gets it, we’re drenched. We fall inside, toward the darkness, and can’t see a damn thing.
“Shit!” I scream. “Michael, please tell me this is safe.”
There’s no reply. The door shuts and all light is completely shut out. “Michael?” Still, no answer. “Fuck, fuck fuck.”
“Boo.” I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump back, nearly swinging. A light turns on and I see Michael laughing hysterically to himself.
“You bastard!” I scream. “Not funny.” A shiver runs up my spine, to my shoulders.
He wraps his arms around me, so I feel protected and safe once more. “It was pretty funny, though.” He kisses my cheek. I push him away from me, playfully.
He runs and clicks a light switch. Nothing turns on. “One second,” he says. He runs to the other side of the building and hits the fuse box. Bright lights turn on. An old disco ball, loosely hangs above the middle of the rink, worn down from years of spinning for the masses.
He grabs the half-wet stereo box and walks toward a booth, off to the side. “Hope this works,” he says.
Meanwhile, I put on my roller skates and try my best to balance. It’s been years since I’ve done this, but when I was a kid, I loved to go to the roller rink. Skating with friends was exhilarating and when the slow songs came on, I remember that strange feeling of wanting to find someone to feel close with.
With a little tweaking, I hear the speakers turn on. “I got it!” he yells. I hear the familiar sounds of Jock Jams Volume 1 come on the speakers. “Tootsie Roll” blasts throughout the rink as Michael picks up an old microphone. “Alright, you skaters, have fun and be safe out there!” he says. He jumps down from the booth and runs over to grab his skates.
When he has them on, he carefully makes his way onto the rink with me. The problem is that once he’s on the actual rink, he’s really good at skating. He picks up speed and circles around me. He spins and stops in front of me. “Okay, how are you so good at this?” I ask.
“I honestly have no clue,” he says. He picks me up in his arms and I scream, out of initial fear of falling. But he keeps me in the air, steadily, and he moves without any problem. I wrap my hands around his neck and close my eyes as the lights shine across the disco ball overhead us.
As we move around the circle, I kiss his rugged face. His hands grip tighter on me. “I like this,” I say. “I’ve never actually had fun with someone like this.”
“Really?” He looks surprised.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I mean, I’ve been out with friends, obviously, but I’ve never had a guy think of me like you have.”
“I just want to experience things with you,” he says, slowing down. We stop off to the side and sit on the carpeted curb. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time with other shit. With the business, the whole family drama, and, of course, myself. I just want to live a little, you know?”
“I know.” I nod my head. “I know it all too well.”
A slower song comes on and I feel all the emotions rush to my body. He skates away from me, so I move to catch up to him. We fall in each other’s arms once more, pushing the strain of life away from us, with every move. His arms are so warm around my body. He can’t stop moving his hands and touching me. I don’t want him to stop.
In the glitter of the rink, we become something else. It’s as if we’re floating in space, within the infinite curtains of time, while light reflects its magnitude over the pure darkness of life’s mystery. Once more, we kiss and taste the struggle that is known as falling for someone. We can’t get enough in our cups.
We lower our bodies to the dusty floor, unable to care about the trivialities of our surroundings. This building has been left by the wayside, left to be demolished by pure forgetfulness. But tonight, it’s strangely alive. Its memories and the nostalgia it holds are a beacon for two souls meant to come together.
I lift up my shirt and unclip the back of my bra. He takes off his shirt and I place my hand over his chest. I feel every ripple of muscle against my palm. His body is warm and powerful, like fire. When he places his hand against each breast, I feel so small, and yet so adored. My skin grows tight and I shiver with excitement.
Slowly, I undo his belt, letting the leather and metal hang unhinged, as I move my palm over the middle of his jeans. He’s already hard. I can feel it growing steadily. As I unzip him, my heart beats hard against my sternum. There is nothing to be said. Our bodies are meant to be touched. They were made to be held, kissed, even licked.
“There’s no one out there like you,” he whispers. My face turns a deep shade of pink. I place my finger against his lips. He wraps his tongue around it and smiles. I move close to him and watch as his tongue moves toward my own lips. I extend mine out. Our mouths are watering for more. When we are around each other, we always want to take it to another level. Our tongues extend and meet, practically in midair. He pulls me in and I’m done for.
I’m wet. My inner thighs are soaking. I push my body on top of his and straddle him. I pull his jeans down, alongside my shorts. My panties are completely wet at this point. His fingers brush against the middle of my panties, and pushes them off to the side. I moan with anticipatory relief.
“You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?” he asks.
I close my eyes and nod slowly, biting my lower lip. “You know I do,” I whisper, grinding myself on him. He’s not yet inside me. He’s just teasing me, thrusting his hard shaft against my lips and clit. Our bodies press against one another.
The heat between us radiates within the cold building. There is nothing but what we evoke. At least, not right now. The world is nothing, but a shade of things to affect us. In this moment, I open my eyes and look at his face, rugged and handsome. His lips arc in all the right places, looking strangely strong, yet honest. He’s the all-American man, the working guy who has sacrificed everything just to get where he is today.
This man wants me. I claw at his skin and he smiles with excitement. He kisses me passionately, and with urgency. Through the hushed moans and heart-piercing breathing, he finds his way inside me. His hard shaft slides in and, for a split second, all time stops in front of me. My back arches back and I sit upright. My eyes dart open and my pupils expand. “Fuck,” I whisper.
When my mouth falls open, I push forward, against his chest. He wraps those arms around me again. My head falls across his shoulder. He thrusts upward with intense velocity and strength. I turn and kiss his neck, pulling back on the skin. He is seething with desire, holding me where he wants me. I just keep growing wetter and wetter, as he drives himself into me. My lips cover his perfect cock, tightening around him. We’re a match made in heaven.
I flip onto my back. I look up at the spinning lights and his body, covered in glistening dots and abstract shapes. As he positions himself over me, I can feel everything in my body change. I become so in tune with him that I let myself get swayed by his rhythm.
He slides back inside me, slow. Yet, when he pushes in as deep as he can go, he comes back, faster, harder. I can barely take it. He lifts up my back and loses himself. “You’re so fucking warm,” he says. “And tight. You fit me so perfect
ly, baby.”
I can’t help but feel my heart pumping out endorphins. I close my eyes and think of everything we could be together. Married. Kids. Happy and traveling around the world. It’s an insane idea. He’s been married before. He’s done all of that. He has a kid, already, and I’m just the girl he wants like this forever.
The fantasy is something that gives me warmth and purpose. I don’t have much else in this town. I have this job, sure. Other than that, I’ve got him now. In this moment, I have everything. I have him, one hundred percent.
“You’re huge,” I tell him, opening my eyes again.
He pounds me so hard that the floor starts to shake. “You like it, baby?” he asks.
He pushes me to the edge and back. I feel it. I feel my pussy clench around him, as if I need him. I feel the quick pinch of pleasure form in the center of my body. I feel it begin to swell. It rises and falls, forms and begins to move in all directions. I nod at him. “I… love… that cock…” I mutter.
“How much do you love it? Tell me.” he asks me.
I look forward and watch as he guides it inside me. Every single inch gets lost within me. I feel him and it’s becoming unbearable. “I need it, Michael. It’s perfect. It’s so big,” I moan. I can barely hang on anymore. It’s the kind of thing you say to a man to feed his ego, but with Michael, it’s different. I actually mean those words. He’s perfect in every way.
He can see it in my eyes. Maybe he can feel it in my body. The trembling, the simple muscle spasms, the grabbing of the palms and leaning of my feet. Those are the signs that a woman is about to lose it. “I want to cum with you,” he says.
He lifts up my head so that we’re staring into one another’s eyes. Everything slowly dissipates. I’m in a dream, wonderland with him. My vision becomes like static on an old television screen. All of the pain that I’ve felt falls away, and I’m left with enormous pleasure.
He buries himself in me until nothing can be seen. “Oh, fuck,” he moans. It comes from the chest, from the heart itself. Pulse after pulse, wave after wave, he releases his hot cum inside of me. I feel it, warm and deep, and all I can do is kiss his face twice, before letting go and lowering my body back to the ground. We move against one another, slower now, as the rhythm begins to ebb away.